You don't remember what happened. What you remember becomes what happened. John Green was the one who said that. It's the only thing I've learnt after three long years of high school. And now here was my senior year taunting me, just waiting to inevitably suck.
High school has its four, horrendous stages: Freshmen, Sophomore, Junior and Senior year. They're almost entirely different, only all of them share the same one year of dreadful and horrific hours of pure torture. Needless to say, high school is — and will forever be — the most boring thing on the face of this earth.
Nonetheless, I managed to drag myself into first period chemistry with a halfhearted smile on my face. I had picked chemistry as an A-level at the end of Junior year and now looking down at the many symbols that made up the periodic table, I was really beginning to doubt my ability to make good decisions. Chemistry had always fascinated me, figuring out the hidden elements behind each scientific mixture and learning how to preform multi-step stoichiometric was nothing less then intriguing. Except, it was certainly irrelevant to anything I wanted to be doing in the future and days like to day, it seemed like a massive waste of time.
"Okay Seniors, eyes to the front!" Miss McCloud called with a plastic smile on her face. She was a middle-aged lady, who hadn't the slightest care in the world about any of her students. Her long brown hair was starting to thin out at the roots and her menacing green eyes showed no other emotion but pure, evil.
Miss McCloud was a living, breathing nightmare who was going to take up five hours of my week.
"I know you all must be very excited about making it to senior year but if any of you do anything such as disturb this lesson, you will have a two hour detention after school with me for the rest of the week."
Everyone in the class shut up at the sound of her threat. Tori, my lab partner since sophomore year, stiffened beside me. We all knew how serious Miss McCloud was with threats like that. I probably knew the best, I was one of the rare students who was unfortunate enough to have Miss McCloud for three — now four — long years in a row. She wouldn't be so bad if she didn't stay true to her horrific warning ultimatums. Freshmen year, she reminded me that if I didn't stop clicking my pen, I'd have to scrape gum off of the bottom of the science desks in every classroom for the entire year. To my fourteen year old self, that seemed illegal — if not impossible — so I clicked my bulletproof pen one last time and ended up with gum all over my fingers every day after school for the next year. It was easily the worst 365 days of my life.
Who knew so much gum could be hiding under the science tables?
"Clara Anderson, that includes you," Miss McCloud stated. I've always hated her, but in this exact moment, I hated her more then I ever though possible. This was because ever since the pen incident, she's hated my guts more then her ex-husband. It wasn't my fault that she was the only teacher in the entire world who would force a young girl to scrape gum off the bottom of all the tables with her bear hands for an entire year.
"Okay," I mumbled.
"Excuse me? Can you please repeat that?" Miss McCloud said, looking at me dead in the eyes as I looked anywhere but at her. It wasn't as if she didn't hear me, I was no more then ten inches away from her desk and for a middle-aged lady, she had the hearing of an overprotective and isolating mother.
"I understand," I told her loudly, enunciating every word clearly, "Miss McCloud."
I realise that the whole gum incident was stupid and shouldn't be really used to hold a long-term grudge on someone, but it was her sarcastic remarks and snobby comments that feuded the burning hatred I felt so passionately for her. I could deal with mild levels of sarcasm, Max used it everyday but his intentions were humours and Miss McCloud's were purely to push me over the edge. She's the reason why chemistry is beginning to be my least favourite thing on the planet and the lowest point of my day.
YOU ARE READING
The Bus Stop
Teen Fiction'Except it meant Max's life crashed with mine and it was as If the sun faded and the night never left. It was a dark tunnel with no light at the end of it because everywhere Max went, darkness followed.' Clara Anderson and Max Elliot were acquainta...
