The Great Escape

Introduction

I think it's just a given fact that every teenager on the planet hates school, unless you're weird.  There's no way it was just me. I bet even Einstein secretly hated school. The teachers obviously hate it, why else would they be so stuck up? I don't even get why they wanted to be teachers. Sure, they're nerds who want to keep up on learning; but they hate every single one of us 'bratty teenagers' so what was the point?

I'm in History at the moment. History and I have a love-hate relationship. I only like hearing the stories. I hate memorizing the names and dates, etc. It doesn't help that Mr. Peterson has a monotone voice. It's like he wants us to daydream; He makes it easy enough. I can't help but be distracted in his class when he makes it almost impossible to pay attention.

"Veera?" That's my name. I prefer to be called Vee, not that Mr. Peterson cares. I snapped back to attention.

"Mr. Peterson?" I countered back to him. I already knew what was coming.

"What were you daydreaming about this time?" he asked smirking. I swear the only time the man sounds animated is when he gets to humiliate someone; and I'm his favorite target. Because you make it so easy, I scolded myself. 

"Nothing." I said. I know what you're thinking, none of this would be happening if I would just suck it up and listen to the man lecture; but that's easier said than done, I swear. 

"Good," he said still smirking. "Then maybe you would like to tell us what we're discussing today." Great.

"The Holocaust." I stated.

"Could you elaborate a bit on that?" He said smiling.

"Which part?" I asked annoyed. It wasn't that I wasn't interested. I had a bit of an obsession with the Holocaust, considering I'm part German and my great grandmother had fled Germany during the war to come to America. I just hated how he taught it, I guess. I had read "The Diary of Anne Frank" and a few other books from the victim's perspective. They were all quite fascinating. I was captivated by the few images in the textbook and wondered how anyone could possibly think this was all made up. 

"The part I just read." he replied with a stern tone. I sighed because I didn't know where the paragraph was. I had been following along for the first couple paragraphs as It described the year and the name of the generals and how America was preparing to go to the rescue. I don't know what happened after that. I just managed to tune it out somehow...because of that monotone voice, I guess. I'd suggest he have us read each paragraph out loud individually, but I would hate to have that kind of attention placed on me. 

Ring! Nothing like being saved by the bell.

"Class, you're dismissed." Mr. Peterson said annoyed. "Veera," he said to me. "I would like you to stay." he ordered. Everyone was rolling their eyes and snickering at me. I waited for them to evacuate the room before I walked up to his desk. I stood in front of it holding my history book and pen. I waited.

"Veera," he started, sounding exasperated. "Why must you always daydream in my class?" he asked.

"I don't know." I said. Stupid answer. I thought to myself, but it was kind of true. 

"You don't know," he repeated back to me slowly. "Well, maybe you can think about it in detention today after school." he said smiling.

"Fine," I said. "Can I go now?" I asked annoyed.

"Can you?" he countered back. I rolled my eyes and I walked out the door. He knew what buttons to push to annoy the heck out of me, and I hated it. "It's may I, not can I",  I remembered him telling me the first time I had asked that. I strolled down the halls until I reached my locker. I was going to have to go to the office to get a late slip, thanks to Mr. Peterson I was now late to my English class, which is where I should really be getting lectured on the use of  "may" or "can".