Truth or Dare[WattyAwards2011--Slowly Editing]

Truth or Dare: Chapter 15

Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn't. ~Mark Twain

When I turned my progress report in the next day, Mr. Pophead accepted it without a second glance, instead saying, “See, it wasn‘t that bad now was it?”  I nodded in response, letting out my breath that I’ve been holding all day.  Finally relaxing, I turned around to take my seat again.

“Did you hear about--”  Chez started once I sat down, but was quickly cut off by a single harsh glance from Mr. Pophead.  He sure was cute, I mean handsome, but he did have a tendency to get annoyed easily.  I thought because he was so young, he would go easier, but it seemed I underestimated him.  “I’ll tell you during lunch.”  Chez mouthed to me, then faced the front.  I wondered what Chez had been about to tell me.  Shrugging it off, I focused on my English extra credit assignment that I’ve, of course, left off until the last minute.  Literally.

By the time I went into English, the only thoughts on my mind were ‘I need to stop talking to Ethan because he is a distraction’ and ‘I need to raise my grades’.  Therefore, I had two very reasonable, yet extremely difficult, goals:

1) Raise my hand constantly in class, volunteer as often as possible, and don’t fall asleep during lectures.

2) Completely ignore Mr. Ethan White.

Nervously taking a breath, I walked into the classroom, forcing a sweet smile towards Mrs. Brute.  Time to suck up to the teacher,  I thought wryly, putting on my innocent, oh-so-sweet face.  She frowned back at me as if I already disappointed her even though I just waked in.  

Mrs. Brute was a short, frail looking lady, probably around her late fifties.  Her gray hair was piled on top of her head in an 18th century style.  She wore long, sweeping, funeral look-a-like dresses to school every single day, and always had this peculiar taste for clothing in puke green with neon orange.  She always had on these black high heels that were at least a good three inches off the ground.  Constantly frowning, I secretly thought she looked an awful lot like a bulldog.

“Good morning, Mrs. Brute.”  I smiled nervously, trying to keep my voice down to a tone that sounded somewhat natural.  Everyone who was already in the classroom dropped what they were holding and gaped at me and Mrs. Brute.  Silence filled the room, as everyone waited for her response.  No one, and I mean no one, had ever took the liberty to say ‘Good morning, Mrs. Brute’.   In fact, most people took great caution to avoiding her.  It’s not that she is particularly mean; it’s just that she likes to constantly criticize everything you do to the point it gets annoying, use big words that no one understands, and wave sharp objects around a lot.

Even Mrs. Brute looked a little surprised herself, her glasses dropping down her nose, as her mouth opened and closed with not a sound.  Seeing her do that made me think of a goldfish, and I forced myself to keep a perfectly straight face.

“Why, good morning, Kylie.”  She finally said, wonderment and awe visible in her tone.  She smiled for the first time, which wasn’t a very pleasant sight.  It was like her mouth was made for frowning, and frowning only.  So when she smiled, it turned into a sort of ‘S’ shape.  

Forcing my smile to stay on my lips, I made my way to my assigned seat, which just so coincidentally happened to be right next to Ethan’s.  

“Teacher’s pet.”  He whispered to me teasingly.  I ignored all the looks of envy I was getting around the room, and shrugged him off, letting out a deep sigh.  Recently, I found out that Ethan was the type of guy who loved to hit on girls (though it should have been obvious right from the start), therefore making him extremely popular among the female population of the school.  So when everyone found out he was hanging out with me a lot, a total nerd who freaks out about a B and isn‘t even that cute, let’s just say I’ve been getting a lot of angry and jealous glares.