Bonded

Chapter 2.)

Melissa's POV

When I signed up for drama, I was hoping that there would be more costumes, acting and scenery, but I was wrong. They might as well call it Talk. The only drama in drama is that I failed it. I simply asked a simple question and what happens? A C happens! Now that I think about it, I now know why they call it drama. Not because of the class, it's because of the teacher! Talk about an over reactor!

There were about 30 other kids sitting in the auditorium that day. They were all probably forced to join. It was a bit into the term when I finally got fed up enough to stand up for myself, something I normally would've done right away. The only reason I didn't was because I was new and didn't want to upset any teachers. So much for that plan.

All I did was go up to her while we were practicing eye contact exercises and ask why we hadn't talked about what play we were gonna do.

She just looked at me with her dead expression and clearly said "What play? This is a class of the art of communication!"

At this point I was really confused. "Um what do you mean?" I asked.

"What do I mean?! I mean that this is a class for kids who want to learn how to be a professional communicator! You must have perfect eye contact, clarity in your voice, projection of your voice...." And she kept listing off useless things we were gonna work on this year.

"So we're not doing a play?" I asked. That was probably one of the worst things to say to her then.

"NO! Play's make everyone jealous and greedy. Not to mention the expenses of the preparation! Money doesn't grow on trees, you know!" She boomed. Everyone was looking at us.

"But isn't the whole purpose of drama to act and put on plays?" I asked. You know how I said the last thing I said was bad. This was way worse. This time, she officially blew her lid off.

"NO PLAYS! UNDERSTOOD?! ONE MORE WORD ABOUT HAVING A SILLY PLAY AND I'LL GIVE YOU AN F FOR THE YEAR!" She said as her head grew redder after each word.

From that point on, the drama teacher officially hated me. Every time I raised my hand, she'd either ignore me or else call on me last. I don't know what's so bad about a little play, but what I do know is to never argue with Mrs. Peterson.