Middle School: Worst Years of My Life

Chapter 2

Jack's POV:

*remedial class*

Mr. North: Hiccup.

Hiccup: Yeah?

Mr. North: Do you know how to sync this to your phone?

Hiccup: Um... probably not.

Mr. North: Doesn't your dad work at best buy?

Hiccup: Oh, yeah, he does... just in marketing.

Mr. North: So you don't get any free stuff?

Hiccup: I do, but mostly office supplies.

As I entered I crashed onto a stack of rubrics... well so much for a good first impression.

Mr. North: We'll wait. Okay, let's start class. Anna? Anna Please put your phone away during class you can't rate teachers on yelp anyway... I've tried. So we have a new student today I'm assuming you are...

Jack: I'm a transfer student, sir.

Mr. North: Oh, you don't have to call me "sir" makes me feel old and I already feel old. I drive a Saturn.

Jack: It's just, Principal Pitch told me to call everyone "sir" it's one of his rules.

Mr. North: Okay well, I don't see any principal Pitch in here. Do you? Seriously, do you? Because he is a master of disguise.

In my opinion he's cool for a teacher I also can't help but laugh at his remark.

Mr. North: So we have a new transfer student today whose name I'm realizing I did not ask just now. What's your name?

Jack: Jack Frost.

Hans: Whoa! It would suck to have to spell that dumb name.

Hiccup: Well, Jack, welcome to hell.

Just then Mr. North stand up from his seat and walked in front of the chalkboard.

Mr. North: Back to the homework from last night. You all listened to the Drake and future mixtape last night.

Okay its official I love this teacher. He's so cool.

Mr. North: Because today we will be talking about fair trade. Okay. There's a hot track and it's produced by future's Hendrix crew. Drizzy, champagne papi, is in the studio with future and he says, "hey, yo, let me get on that track." "Well, I'ma have to charge you" and what does Drake say back? "Charge me? I thought we were boys", "We're the best of boys", "We're gonna make a mixtape together" but there's a tax not anymore, once NATO came along.

Hiccup: North, it's NAFTA, not NATO.

Mr. North: Ah? What? Word? Hiccup is right, it is NAFTA. So, now there is no tax. So champagne papi and young Hendrix can be on each other's tracks without having to charge anybody. Much the way that America and Canada have goods importing and exporting.

I was enjoying listening to Mr. North until someone kicked my seat.

Hans: Hey, kick-a-dorkian. It's Hans time. Stay out of my way, or I'll wedgie you so bad you'll be able to taste your underwear.

Jack: How?

I can't help myself but imagine what kind of wedgie he'll do to me

1. The grip-n-rip!

2. The beaver-tail!

3. The man-bun!

4. The Kardashian!