Middle School Status

Middle School Sucks!

Picture of Courtney above! (Not me, BTW)

       Homework is stupid. How can I finish this truck load when I'm only one person? Teachers must be like, "I don't know, if it's six pages each question, I guess so." I mean, I've pulled all nighters to finish this trash, and I could be doing way more of my stuff. Then, the teachers just screw it and throw it all away. All my precious, accurate work, thrown in to the trash. UGH, IT INFURIATES EVERY BONE IN MY BODY! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid is all I think as, me, Courtney Tess Hill, ONE PERSON, is up at TWO IN THE MORNING FINISHING THE STUPID TRASH LOAD OF ESSAYS DUE THE VERY NEXT DAY. Glad to get that off my chest. I swear, Chester A. Arthur Middle School, Chester Middle School for short, gives the most homework out any school. And why, I ask myself. I'll never never know. It must be like an Illuminati teacher group that gets together secretly and discuss how much the students must suffer that night. And that's how the Industrial Revolution was a big impact on the economic prosperity of America in its day...  is what I type to finish up my history homework. Finally, finished. All of my homework, done. I sign in happiness.

Skip to the morning because I can...

This is the moment, tonight is the night, we fight till it's over....  is what I hear in the morning as my alarm of Macklemore blares through my room at 6:50 A.M. I grunt in frustration and swipe to shut up the thing. I lay in bed for a few more minutes, then get out. Who actually gets up at the alarm? Not anyone I know. I only got about four hours of sleep because of homework. I take a look in the mirror. I'm a mess, ew. I grab my clothes for the day, not really caring what other people thought: a t-shirt of my favorite band/artist (can be whatever you want to think, readers, not picking favs), a grey beanie, black jeans, and some vans (haha, Daniel). I grab a lot of bracelets, because, who doesn't love bracelets? Most are Rainbow Looms because they're cool. I change, brush my hair and teeth, then I look in the mirror. Much better, I thought.

"Hurry up, Courtney," my mom calls from downstairs. Shoot, I'm late. I grab my earbuds, phone, and my backpack, then I'm out. I quickly say good bye to my mom, grab an apple, then I'm running to the bus stop. Yeah, my dad died a few years ago, when I was little, but I'm fine.

Yes, the bus just pulled up to the stop. I run to the stop and into the bus. I see a lot of people from school: Jonathan, Wes, Kyle, Justin, and a bunch of other sport players. Then I see the queens: Serena, June, Valerie, and Claire, all flirting with them. I roll my eyes and take a seat in an empty seat.  I pull out my earbuds and my phone, then listen to music. Right now, 679 by Fetty Wap is on, and I listen to it all until I hear the chatter of students, then I know I'm there, at the place where a literal Walking Dead life goes on: Chester Middle School. The bus driver advises us to step carefully out of the bus, and the second I stand up, I'm knocked roughly back down onto my seat my the animals of boys that want to go play sports before school. Then the queens come out, then me. The little kids are left behind, cause they go to a different school.

I get down. Then I'm greeted by my friends: Peyton, Willow, Jon, and Lars. Yup, I have friends, hopefully your not surprised. They walk up to me and Peyton starts rambling about her crush of the week, which everyone thinks is pointless. She's pretty, really, but she should really not fall for a lot of guys. I don't have a crush, truthfully, not kidding, unless you count Harry Styles and Chandler Riggs, but otherwise, nope.

We walk down to our lockers, one by one, then reach mine. I piled my waste of trees we call "books" in, grab the ones I need, and then we hear a large clattering of footsteps: the queens and their high heels. I swear, they sound like a freakin metronome. Everyone surprisingly, as though being dragged magnetically into the wall, moves over as they walk in style down the hallway. Then June walks off to make out with a jock. In the hallway. Gross much? I look away. How can she do that? Just, no. Once their freakin grandfather clocks of shoes fade out, the bell rings, and then it starts: the long day of school.