Mistaken Love

Chapter Forty-eight.

**THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN BEEN EDITED. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE GRAMMAR AND SPELLING MISTAKES

August 30th

So much has happened since Noah and I returned from Rachel's birthday camping trip. Since Zachary knows about my secret, I've been doing errands for him here and there; buying him food, doing his chores, when Rachel and their family aren't home, driving him and his friends around, when their drunk, since I'm getting much better with driving, and other stuff he asks for. Personally, I think it's a load of bull, but if I don't want Zachary to tell Rachel the truth, I have to be on his good side. I guess you can say that I'm scared of him now. Terrified, even.

More interesting news; Noah left for college, during the beginning of this month, so my parents and I are turning his old room, into my baby sisters bedroom. The walls are yellow and pink, with flowers, butterflies and bee decals all over the walls. Yes; baby sister. Mother and father decided on naming her Lydia Bee. I went with them to their recent ultrasound and I nearly bawled with joy, on my mothers lap. I'm just glad my parents get to finally have the daughter of their dreams, since I was a failed test subject to become girly. On a brighter note, I won't be the baby anymore. I will be promoted to middle child, in January. However, I'm still not exactly sure if becoming a middle child is a good thing or not? We'll have to found out, won't we?

Even more news, I have recently picked up a job. I'm a slave- I mean server at a cute, tiny diner. So far, I've been doing great and the tips are really nice, as well. However, I've made a money jar for my parents, for when Lydia arrives. After eating 15 huge pickles, in a row, I've used the pickle jar for that reason, instead of just handing them my tips everyday. They insist that I take my tips back, but I refuse, and besides, at least I'm not giving them ALL of my money... just majority. Also, let me just say that I will never eat 15 pickles in one day again. Did I get sick? Horribly, yes.

Last piece of news; I am currently sitting in the middle of AP calculus; 1st period. That's right, folks, Samantha Anna-Marie Bennett is officially a senior.

Que applause, and seize.

I placed my head in the palm of my hand, as I stared blankly at the dry erase board. My teacher, Mr. Matthews, begins to explain basic questions that he had giving us, the moment we stepped foot into his classroom.

I've heard many good things about Mr. Matthews. However, as I sit in the front row, by his desk, at the verge of falling asleep on this very Monday morning, at 8:00 AM, he is an elderly man, who eats, sleeps and craps calculus on an everyday basic. What is even more bazaar, is that his wife, who's probably 30 years younger than him, loves calculus more than him. How could that be possible, you may ask? I simply do not have the answer, at this time.

Eventually, I lifted my heavy head upwards, as I began to eye my surroundings. Unfortunately, I am not friends with any of my calculus classmates. Therefore, this class is going to kill me for the next several months. To make it even worse, I have no idea how to calculus. My counselor has viewed my 'excellent' math grades, and thought it would be a great idea, if I advanced into calculus, or she thought it would be funny to watch me suffer and rip out the little bit of hair I have left upon my head. Either or, her and calculus are on the same line of hatred, right about now. God, I hate calculus.

For someone who keeps saying they hate calculus so much, they're saying calculus a bunch.

Calculus. Calculus. Calculus. Why don't you say that out loud, and say it quickly.