Before the Hunt

Four: Lit Teacher from Hell

POV Isaac

As I made my way to literature class with two of Don's theater friends, Beau and Jasmine, I stopped in front of my locker to make sure that nobody left a note saying how "fucking gay" I am. Which I'm not because I'm a straight dude that likes girls, that's all I'll say about that. Before class started, Don ran up to me and handed me my literature textbook, saying, "You left this on the picnic table outside, don't forget it next time dude." I took the small textbook from Don and shook his hand in a joking manner saying to him, "Thank you my good sir." He responded in his best Russian accent, "My pleasure, fellow ginger." and he walked off to his first class, which for him was math. 

Once I got to my first class I knew I was going to be killed verbally, like last Friday. Ah yes, literature for the dumb kids. But hey, I at least do advanced science and advanced history with Don and Marceline. Let me give you a small description of our classroom, we've got Grant and his girlfriend Carson, and Carson's friends Chloe (who's really nice) and Erica (the mythic biacth as Marceline calls her). They're solid titanium, never jeered at or harassed, hell, they even are worshiped as gods in the school. Even though Grant and Carson were caught making out in the teachers bathroom the first week school got back in and they were both in detention for four days. Yet people still worship them like they're the second coming. However, I do not like this group of people one, fucking, bit. 

Our class was small, since my school was full of future AP kids and kids who'd be offered scholarships for college. But my class was the worst lit class, not only (key word, ONLY) because of the kids, but because of our teacher, Mrs. Lee. Mrs. Lee was an older woman, around fifty or fifty five. She had chocolate brown hair that she wore straight as a board and it draped over her bony ass shoulders like old dusty curtains. She was very short, but she knew how to be a b, to the i, to the tch! She also hates Mormons, never could figure out why because Don's Mormon, but he isn't a super religious Mormon. Actually, he's more of an atheist because he didn't really believe in any type of higher power looking down at us, judging us in the clouds for not being "perfect angels" and following God's law. But hey, I'm just a dumb ass Methodist who is questioning my own existence. 

As I sat down at my desk in the middle row, I saw Marceline pass by my room into math. Once the bell rang, I felt a paper airplane hit me on the back of my neck. I turned around and saw Grant, laughing his ass off at my reaction. Which was the "bitch please" look that Marceline taught me last summer when someone pisses me off. "Nice to see you too Grant!" I called to the jackass himself. Grant waved and said, "Was that sarcasm?" "What do you think, ass?" I said, as I turned my head back to face the board. About ten seconds later, Mrs. Lee walked in, holding the giant ass binder she always carried with her, along with her purse and a pointer to point at shit on the board, and to sometimes threaten us with it. Welcome to literature for dumb asses!

"Okay boys and girls, listen up, I have your book reports graded and I will be giving them back to you after attendance. Some of you did good, but others," Mrs. Lee turned her head to face me and continued, "others didn't do so good, and I think a good seventy five percent of you could've done better than you gave me on your report." I rolled my eyes as I tapped the end of my pencil on the desk, watching and waiting for Mrs. Lee to walk up to me, hand me my paper, and call out how much I suck at grammar. Well guess what bitch? I have dyslexia! So does Marceline and Don's friend Beau. Mine's worse than Marceline and Beau's though, because I never got help for it in school. Because ya boy was held back in what was supposed to be my fourth grade year. As my eyes glanced at the "helpful" posters on the walls, Mrs. Lee walked up to my desk and shoved my report in my face. "Now Isaac, what do you see here?" she asked me in a stern voice. I mumbled, "A C-." "Mhm, and do you know why you got a C-?" she asked. "Because I have dyslexia and I can't read or write good? And my grammar isn't the best?" I responded, as I took the paper and pointed out how horrible my grammar is. She gave me the look of the Grim Reaper and said, "Do you want a D hall for talking back to me?" "No ma'am, I'm not even trying to talk back to you," I said with honesty. She didn't by my honesty, and she wrote me a D hall slip, and handed it to me, saying, "Have your uncle sign this, and maybe you'll think about what you said." and she went back to the front of the class and continued to hand out papers. I heard Grant, Carson, and Erica laughing in the back, and soon the whole class began to taunt me and somebody threw a pencil at me with full force. I looked behind me, flipped off Grant and Carson, then I went back to staring down my D hall slip.