HypoFaker

Chapter 1: Fake Tough Love

"Wrong!"

It felt like he was taunting me. Leaning over my shoulder and criticizing my hard researched work, although, I did have a few other tabs open with morbid mental illness pages.

I could hear everything in this damn room.

Who's idea was it to eat loudly in class? Shut up or chew quietly.

Everything basically irritated me now. The hard typing on the computers, the smacking, the gum popping, the constant snickering as these childish teens were secretly on their phones. Meanwhile I'm being told what's right from what's wrong as this loudmouthed teacher watches my words come into view with every letter I tap.

"Fix that." He tapped my computer screen and I sighed.

Fix your stank ass coffee breath first.

I promise, I'm not normally this mean but I feel overwhelmed and underestimated at the time.

"It's hot in here." I tried to distract, before I could explode at him.

He didn't reply. He only watched with his arms folded before he walked away, scoffing.

I felt my nose twitch as I watched him walk back to his desk and I looked to the wall, zoning out without realizing.

This happens quite often. I stare at something and begin to unnoticabally zone out. I feel nothing and think about nothing. Basically staring.

I felt my eyes droop like a dog on a warm Sunday afternoon, beginning to fall asleep.

I finally looked back to my computer after 5 minutes of staring and blinked a couple of times before typing in my essay so I could submit it and stop stressing.

You know what's stressful? Paying bills is stressful! You think you have it so bad!

My mothers voice rang throughout my head as I sighed again and put my head down, scooting the heated computer away.

"Hey, Toffee!" A girl called out as I picked up my head and looked at her with weary eyes.

"Hm?" Was all I could mutter, for this day seemed to drag on no matter what I did. "How far along are you?" She asked pointing to my essay as I sighed and put my head back down. "Paragraph 6."

"How! We barely started yesterday." Her eyes darted to my computer screen.

"I don't waste time." I pulled my computer back closer to me and saved my essay again before shutting it down and packing my belongings up for the day.

Yes, my name was Toffee. No, it was not my idea to be named like so. Now everybody asks if its my nickname or such. It is pesky, because I am often taunted for it, but I don't mind as much as I used to. Things like this happen, this world is a obsolete cycle.

The bell rung and everyone simultaneously jumped up with their bags and their phones, clutched at heart. I stood up as well 10 seconds later and grabbed my belongings, planning on leaving just before my teacher called out my name.

Ugh.

I spun around to face him with unnoticeable daggers in my eyes and politely replied, "Yes?"

He waved me over and I slowly made my way to his bulky desk, cluttered with papers and excessive coffee cups. "It's about your grades, Toffee." He said in what seemed to me was a condescending voice. I held back a sigh and shifted my feet.

"Yes?" I repeated again.

"You aren't doing well in half of your classes."

"Thanks." I mutter and look away.

"That's not good, Toffee." He grumbled, "What seems to be causing this?"

"I don't know...homework I guess." I just wanted to go home and lie down with my precious cat. The only support I had.

"Have you considered tutoring, Toffee?" It seemed like a sarcastic question. But it was also a question I've been asked almost all my life. If that was what you could call my hilarious struggle for survival, a life.

"No, I haven't." I bleakly reply in a whisper, the room was annoyingly quiet.

"There is afterschool tutoring to help students with their academic failure." He pulls out a yellow slip that has the times and dates of when tutoring was and I stare at it.

"I'm busy afterschool Mr. Cranson." I huff out and shift my feet again.

"Well at least give it a try, I don't need any failures in my class and I'm sure your parents don't need any failures in their home."

Wow, what bullshit. If you're going to tell me this, at least soften the impact of your ignorant words.

"Hm." I begin to feel my left eye twitch.

"Try to show up sometime." He scratched his neck and waved me off. I sigh and quickly leave the room, walking to the dropoff area tiredly and taking a cab home.

Wow, what an eventful day.

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Salutations! This is (clearly) a book in progress I'm writing and I hope for people to enjoy it.

So vote, follow, recommend, or comment as you wish~👀

See you all next chapter~!

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