The Devil Wears Girl Jeans [BEING EDITED]

The Devil Wears Girl Jeans (Chapter 11)

“School is slowly killing my soul.” I grumbled, throwing my checkered backpack onto the desk beside my friend, Aubrey. French class was definitely not where I wanted to be at 8:30 on a Monday morning, and the toxic cloud of Axe that hung over the room made it especially horrible.

“Cheer up, you have 2500 more hours of this before you graduate.”

“Thanks for pointing that out.” I said bitterly, sliding down in my chair a bit as Madame Collins walked in, a chubby woman in her twenties, with bouncy blonde curls and an ever present smile. The rest of the class ignored her and continued to talk over each other, each of them trying to be heard. A few people were openly texting, while others were ripping away drywall from what had once been a loonie sized hole in the wall. The place was complete chaos, but the teacher just smiled pleasantly to herself as she turned on the projector, an enlarged worksheet appearing on the wall.

“Helloooo, ladies and gentlemen! How was your weekend?” she asked, and a few people turned to look at her before going back to whatever they were doing.

“Where's Lacey? She's like, 10 minutes late.” Aubrey said, adjusting the elastic headband around her messy brown bun. Aubrey was the definition of hipster, and was one of those obnoxiously perfect people who was pretty much good at everything, whereas I had about as much talent as a stick.

“Maybe Ill go look for her, not like we're doing anything in class today anyways.” I grumbled, starting to stand up. There was a few muffled noises from outside, followed by the loud bang of the door flying back and hitting the wall.

“I HAVE ARRIVED.” Lacey yelled, bursting into the room as if on cue.

“Found her.” I said, lowering myself back into my chair. Lacey was loaded down with brown paper bags, each of them stamped with a familiar yellow “M”. The smell of artery clogging grease wafted out of the bag, and my stomach grumbled as I opened the cardboard container that revealed a McGriddle and took a massive bite.

“So did I miss anything?”

“Not really. Jason got his finger stuck in a pop can, but other than that we've just been sitting here for the last 20 minutes.” Aubrey informed her, shooing away a hash brown offered by Lacey and instead pulling a salad out of her backpack.

“Damn, wish I couldve seen that. How'd he get it out?”

“Scissors.” I said, taking a swig of chocolate milk before slamming the now empty carton onto the desk.

“He cut his finger off?!” she asked in disbelief, her mouth hanging open in shock.

“He cut the can, you moron. Holy crap, you're so stupid.”

Aubrey and Lacey launched into an argument about Lacey's intelligence, while I sat there, contently finishing off my meal. When I was done, I balled up the yellow paper that was damp with grease, and glanced around for a place to dispose of it.