The 29 Days (Kendall Schmidt AU)

Chapter Four - Day 3

Nicole

It feels like class has been going on for over half a century. The slow ticking of the clock just makes everything worse. I thought that by now I'd be really motivated to listen to Mr. Henderson thoroughly discuss ethnicity, but I just can't push aside what went down with Kendall yesterday.

I stare blankly at the whiteboard behind the teacher. None of the information that comes from his mouth is being processed by my brains. I know I have to do better in World History, but I really don't feel like doing anything at all today. Nicole, you have got to stop being so overdramatic.

Just when I started to think that Kendall Schmidt and I actually have a shot at being friends, he pushes me away like I'm some toy he doesn't feel like playing with in nursery. It's funny how he's been the one insisting to drive me home in the first place. I wish he never had even asked. Correction. I wish I had never even accepted his "offer" of being "nice."

The bell finally rings for lunch and I spring up from my seat in excitement. I'm actually kind of suprised I'm excited to have my lunch.

I collect the things scattered on my table and hurriedly stuff them in my bag. I was on my way to the cafeteria, until I hear someone call my name from a distance.

"Miss Nicolette Sanders."

I turn around swiftly to see Mr. Henderson seated by his desk.  He doesn't look up to meet my eyes, but I'm positive he knows I heard him.

"Please stay for a moment," he says.

He doesn't move from his formal position as I drag myself to the front of the classroom. He continues jotting down something on his journal and I wait impatiently for him to finish.

After five minutes of waiting, I fake a cough to remind him I'm still here. He rolls his eyes and shuts his journal.

"Do you really want this scholarship?" he asks.

I nod swiftly. Hell yeah I do. Is that even a question?

"Do you really want to get into that annoying college of yours?" he asks, this time his head tilted to the right.

I nod slower. It's Julliard, bitch.

"Do you reeaaally--"

I cut him off with a huge hand gesture and the next thing I know, my voice is louder than usual.

"Yes, yes, yes!  Can't you see I'm working hard, Mr. Henderson?" I exclaim.

I'm practically screaming at my World History teacher now.

He slams his palms against the table and stands up firmly.

"It doesn't seem like it, because all you've been doing in my class is stare at the board and scribble nonsense," he replies in a volume similar to mine.

I look down at my feet in shame. Damn, is it that bad?

"I'm really trying." I try to explain to him. "Really."

"If you don't have the capacity to try hard enough Ms. Sanders, get a tutor." he retorts.

Mr. Henderson shuffles the files on his desk and hastily inserts them inside his messenger bag. He says nothing on his way out, leaving me alone in the room.

"I don't need a tutor." I mumble to myself. I'm Nicole Sanders. I don't need to rely on anybody, especially when it comes to my academics. People look up to me, I can't look up to others.

I leave the room stomping on my way out. Look at me being Over-dramatic Nicole once again. I make my way to the cafeteria, collecting my thoughts.

Okay, fine! Maybe Mr. Anderson is right. I should get a tutor. A tutor that's crazy good in understanding World History. I might also need a tutor that won't tell anyone I'm asking somebody for help. It would totally ruin my preppy image.