Storybook Island

+ Average, Average, Average...

*Abigail*

I glanced up at my clock, sighed and laid my head down on the table. Mr. O'Donnell continued to ramble on and on about something, probably nothing important. Hopefully not something on a test. My eyes threatened to close as my teacher continued his lecture. 

"Miss Pickard? Miss Pickard? ABIGAIL PICKARD!"

My head shot off the desk. "THE DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF CONGO!"

Mr. O'Donnell looked down at me, the light from the ugly light fixtures glinting off his bald head. "Miss Pickard, this is English. Not geography, but thank you." Angry sarcasm dripped off his words like poison. "Would you mind telling myself and the rest of the class what I just said?"

I swallowed, hard, and looked around the class. Everyone was staring at me. Thank goodness I caught the eye of Meghan, my cousin, who scribbled the answer down and held it up on a piece of paper behind my teacher. 

"Why, you just told the class that Shakespeare's King Lear heavily includes examples of authority and chaos fighting one another," I smiled a polished, A+ student smile and hoped he bought it all. 

 He raised his eyebrows but turned away. "Very good, Abigail,"

Nicola Green raised her hand like the prissy brat she is. 

"Yes, Nicola?" Mr. O'Donnell asked, eagerly awaiting her answer. He loved her, she was clearly his favorite. That was completely absurd, I mean, who would want to be friends with that snitch, but she was always the teacher's pet. 

Nicola pulled off that A+ smile that I could only attempt as if it were second nature and said, "Mr. O'Donnell, I hate to ruin Abigail's moment, but she cheated when answering that question. Meghan held up the answer for her on a piece of paper so that she wouldn't get in trouble,"

Red-faced and raging, Mr. O'Donnell advanced towards my desk like a hungry lion. "Is that true, Pickard?"

"Uh... no? Your hair looks nice today..." It was at the terrifying moment that I realized no one would buy my pathetic compliment.  

He narrowed his eyes as his face went from red to purple. "I... don't... have... hair! PRINCIPAL'S, NOW! BOTH OF YOU!"

I cringed and scooped up my books, hurrying out of room 110. Meghan was not far behind, rushing out of the room and holding her textbooks. 

"Sorry," I apologized, "You wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't helped me. I owe you one."

"Don't sweat it, we're good. At least something interesting happened. I can't recall the last time anything remotely exciting happened around here." She remarked and shifted her books to rest on her other arm, long blond ponytail swishing behind her as she walked. I hurried to keep up with her, nearly tripping over my own feet. 

"I suppose. Hey, are we supposed to go with Uncle Charlie after school?" 

"I hope so. If I have to spend one more day at grandma's, I'll die." Our uncle, Charlie, owned an amusement park on an island in a lake. The amusement park, Storybook Island, was a fairytale-themed park, with a huge castle, rides, and amazing ice cream. I'm not kidding, their cookies and cream were the best. 

We rounded another corner and I once again had to pick up my pace to keep up with her.

 "I'm not doing that again," Meghan switched to a British accent, "we'll get killed. Or worse, expelled!"

"Whatever, Hermione," I laughed. "Isn't it, 'I'm going to bed before either of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed. Or worse, expelled!'"