CHAPTER FORTY
i don't have an eye-dea for what to don't this
"thanks for being such a terrible class," mr grant announced a few minutes before the bell. "if you were a so called 'good' class, i would be fired."
"thanks for being such a terrible teacher," returned a few students. he bowed with honor.
"it's been fun, mr g.," called out tasha.
michael cleared his throat purposely loud. "yo, and just in case i never see you again, i'm sorry about the cupcake thing." he glanced at madeline. softer, he said, "to you too," then was met with a repulsed face from her.
"i will miss most of you," emphasized the teacher.
as we left the classroom, i physically couldn't keep my mouth from frowning. the person i now envied most was not greta gerwig or sofia coppola, but maeve bishop because she had mr grant as her chemistry teacher.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
mom woke me up with a start, flipping the light switch on my wall several times and yelling out, "happy valentine's day!"
"happy valentine's day," i repeated with a chary chuckle.
i wasn't prepared one bit to have tacky love-loving chants thrown at me first thing in the morning. subconsciously, i might have been more focused on the fact that my old witch for a teacher was making her much unnecessary return instead of the holiday.
"ugh, do i have to go to first period?" i complained to my parents as i plodded to the pantry in search of a granola bar.
"hey, maybe she won't even be there," said dad. "some people find their happy place and it's like quicksand."
"this house is my happy place. i'm not leaving unless there's a tarantula infestation or something," i told him.
reemerging from the pantry, i had to grab onto my appetite for dear life: dad had his work clothes on, which were nicely ironed and clean, until mom wrapped her arms around him and decided to indulge in kissing him right there in front of me. it wasn't just a peck, either.
"oh my god, get a room!" i cried.
the only thing my yawping seemed to do in stopping them was give them a little laugh, but they persisted. i shoved the granola bar in the side pocket of my bag and hurried to the door. there was no chance that i could eat in the presence of that monstrous sight.
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𝙢𝙮 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨, 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 ( 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙡 )
Romantizmin which you, an aspiring filmmaker, find the perfect actor for your breakout short film. casting is difficult for the main love interest, but once a certain blue-eyed boy comes into your life, you know he's the one... maybe in more ways than yo...