The End

Chapter 3

Government. The very word made me want to vomit. Mr. Welton, the teacher, was painfully dull, though I suppose you would have to be, willingly studying the subject. His short sleeve dress shirt was buttoned rigidly to the collar, the gray attitude he displayed being mimicked by the bland atmosphere the classroom radiated.

 Punk Boy sat beside me as Mr. Welton trudged slowly through the attendance list. After sufficiently boring us to tears before class even began, he shuffled to his desk and crawled through the room, passing out the guidelines. Lifelessly reading through the pointless restrictions, he monotonously explained the self-explanatory rules.

When finished lulling the class into a peaceful slumber, Mr. Welton handed out the textbooks, all of which looked as bland as the teacher. Upon finishing, he looked at the class with utter loathing and disdain, before launching into a lazy speech.

“Well,” he droned, “you are seniors now, therefore you must be responsible, self-sufficient, and take matters into your own hands,” he said, pulling each word out as long as he could. “This is why I’m assigning a group project on differing governments around the world.” A collective groan filled the class room, many students muttering rude things he could do to himself. “I’ll choose your partner, but I’ll let you pick the country,” he said, ignoring the comments.

Once again dragging through the class list, this time reading the names in pairs, I began dreading which of my peers I would be partnered with.

“Duke Reynolds and Florence Stephens.”

I quickly began searching for the student named Duke. As I looked around, a strong hand gripped my knee, startling me.

Glancing at the long fingers that were wrapped around my leg, my eyes traced the hand, then the arm, finally landing on the face of the owner. There sat a very amused Punk Boy.

He smirked arrogantly at my shocked expression, enjoying every second that I squirmed beneath his touch.

“So…Florence, which government do you think we should do?” he asked innocently as I shoved his hand from me.

“Y-you’re Duke?” I was slightly uncomfortable, yet intrigued by the guarded individual sitting in front of me. He stop trying to act innocent, and resumed the bored, guarded expression he wore well.

“I guess I am,” he said, looking around to see if anyone claimed me. He scooted his chair noisily across the floor toward me, our knees touching. Unknowingly, I moved to pull back, but his hand quickly regained its position, firmly holding me where I was. Watching me intently, he held on, tighter than before. When I accidently winced, he immediately pulled back, looking startled by his actions.

“Oh my God… I’m sorry,” he apologized. It was as if he thought I was going to explode.

“It’s okay,” I reassured though I’m not sure it was.

“No, it’s not,” he responded tiredly, his eyes now dark, his features set.

The students around us began preparing for the bell to ring.

“When should we work on this?” I asked tentatively.

“Um, today won’t work—what about tomorrow?”

“Sure. We can work at my place, I can give you a ride, if that is okay,” I suggested.

“Alright.”

Before he could respond further, the bell rang, signaling the end of government, and leaving me with a lot of thoughts and unanswered questions.