I slumped farther and farther into the beige, and silver hard, cold desk. I slouched so far into my seat, that my bare knees hit the undersurface of the desk. If I wasn't mistaken, it felt as if my left knee had locked in with a piece of pale white, ABC(already been chewed) gum.
When I retracted me knee, part of the gum came along for the ride, and stretched out as far as my knee traveled. I reached my index finger, and thumb down until I could feel feel the stickiness between my two fingers. I thought my stomach was going to emit the green, encrusted cafeteria food I forced down during lunch. I scraped the gunk off from my knee, and tried to flick the rest back into the crevasse it was snuggled into, before it attacked my knee.
Currently I sat (more like slept) through Mr. Binder's ongoing speech about analogies, just barely keeping my eyelids from sticking to each other. Analogies were something I could squeeze in as a B-, if the kid next to me kept writing with letters big enough for the spiders crawling in the florescent lights to see.
I looked down, up, side to side, anywhere that Mr. Binder couldn't lock eyes with me, and call me up to the chalky board. He had the look of my dad. his cheek bones soft, but his brows always furrowed. Even I could tell that Mr. B despised getting in front of around twenty six sophomore kids, and teach the same lesson continuously. That's when I realized we weren't so different after all. We both just wanted to get as far away from here as possible.
