Thief

"Frank?"

Nobody responds to this name. The room is quiet as a funeral and everybody is turning their heads around to look for Frank as our teacher also skims the room.

"I guess Frank is not here today"

She continues to call role until she reaches my name which is last. I don't know why Mrs. Adams always calls me last. Maybe she doesn't like me as much as the other kids because I don't often speak up. After Mrs. Adams finishes taking roll, she begins her math lesson. I hate math because I can never memorize any of the hideous terms that come up in each lesson. I don't even remember the term right now.

"So does everybody understand how two plus two equals four?" asks Mrs. Adams.

All the children nod without really knowing if they actually know the reason or not, because I mean nobody ever responds negatively to Mrs. Adams. Imagine, if we actually had the chance to, we would probably have to say "no" to all of her questions. Jim is the only one who, once in a while, answers to Mrs. Adams honestly, meaning he sometimes says no when he doesn't understand something. My parents seldom talk about his parents as if they are some gods and envy them for reasons I don't understand. What I envy Jim for is the fact that he is never hungry during class. He never rushes to the cafeteria over lunch breaks while all of the other students, including me, run like somebody is chasing us with a rifle.

"Okay children, who is going to tell me what you have to do for tomorrow?"

"Do you mean for homework?" re-questions Jim exaggerating the word "homework" because he wants to show-off that he remembered a word we learned in class. He loves boasting and I hate him when he brags because I am so jealous. I am not jealous of his smartness though, I am rather jealous of what makes him "smart".

Mrs. Adams smiles and applauds the bastard smiling with superiority.

"Yes, Jim! You remembered the word I taught you! Very good! So, who can tell me the homework?"

The invisible room goes dead because nobody knows the exact answer to that question. I think she told us to finish this paper thing... Oh, I can't remember the name of that paper, but anyways I am pretty sure she wants us to finish something about this paper. I wish I could raise my hand and reply with confidence, but I am too tired and inpatient for lunchtime. Since morning, my stomach has been rumbling and protesting to function until I shoved something inside it.

"Nobody remembers what I asked for homework?" repeats the teacher as she points on the top right corner of the miniature blackboard to help us figure out the answer. We forgot that she writes the homework on the board.

Finish the addition and subtraction worksheet for tomorrow.

Hannah, my best friend, raises her hand as soon as she picked up the word in her brain so that she could now be Jim and talk big that she knows an answer.

"Yes, Hannah?"

"We have to finish the additi..." she stumbles, pretends that she doesn't see the board, then wraps up quickly.

"Worksheet! We have to finish the worksheet"

"Yes, that is correct Hannah! Now, almost nobody completed yesterday's homework, so this time please don't forget about the homework okay?" requests Mrs. Adam with a pitiful look in her eyes like a beggar asking for money to buy food. By this time, though, she should know that we all are "lazy" –as most adults describe our behavior –and will not complete the homework.

"Okay Mrs. Adam!" we loudly answered.

Then people started writing down the homework on a piece of paper or on their hand. I took out my half ripped notebook paper and fumbled inside my bag to look for a pencil but couldn't find one. So, I asked Hannah to lend me hers.