Tuesday morning, 11:30AM. This was the time and the day that I thought I'd never have done what I did.
I left a classroom without permission.
Yeah, yeah, goody two shoes, whatever. I've never, ever thought that I would leave the class without permission. Well, I had a valid reason! Let me rewind to about five minutes ago:
"Okay, class, take a seat. What we're going to do today is preparation on our assignment." Mr Walker announces, trying to get the class' attention.
I groan, pulling out a notebook. Bloody hell, I've been assigned a speech, an essay and now, another one!
"It's going to be a report." Sir says, writing on the whiteboard the due dates, criteria and all that.
I begin taking these notes down, when I feel a kick against my chair. I turn around to see the lovely soul that made fun of me for wearing Converses. Wow. Not my face or anything. My shoes. Talk about judgemental.
"Sorry, but can you not kick my chair?" I ask, politely.
"Sorry, but can you not fill the air with your presence?" She replies, highfiving her posse.
I roll my eyes, but I have to say; that hurt. Like a stabbing to my ego. I turn back to write my notes, along with the continuity of the she-devil kicking my chair.
"Keeley!" The teacher barks, and the kicking ceased.
You'd think I'd run out of the room because of the so-called Keeley? No way. Frankly, I couldn't care less about her. It's what comes next that makes me rebel.
Okay, it isn't rebelling, but still.
"The report will be on the Vietnam War. You'll have to write a five page report.."
War consists of armies, armies consist of people killing people, and one of those people was the one and only, my father.
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
I inhale sharply and write the date on the top of the page, however my mind is in a completely different world.
"So, the Vietnam War. Many soldiers died..." Sir starts to say, and I begin to lose concentration. Memories upon memories of my father and I rush into my head; the swing rides, the roller coasters, even simple things such as a family dinner.
I pack up my books, stuffing them into my bag. I stand out of my seat, and sling my backpack over my shoulder.
Don't cry.
Don’t you dare cry.
However, my tears spill out of my eyes, as I walk towards the Block X door. However, I’m stopped when I feel a hand on my arm, spinning me around. There was nobody in the deserted hallway, just me and the breathing of Chad Johnson.
“What do you want?” I ask, licking my lips and looking over his shoulder. The classes were quite far away, so I guess you could say I was a little bit scared.
Wait.
A little bit scared?
Bullshit, I was very scared.
“I want to tell you that we are not over yet. It’s not over until I say it is.” He spits, holding my wrist a little too tightly.
My eyes scan to his face, where a big bruise is sprawled across his left eye, and his jaw is also.
“And tell your roommate to stay away from you, or else you’ll be the one who will receive this.” He adds, pointing to the miraculous bruise on his face. “Understand?”
