The Anarchists

Chapter Seven

Phyllis POV:

When I had taken a shower to cool off after the vigorous basketball game, it was time for Chemistry-a subject which I loathed.

I strolled into the classroom at a leisurely pace; after all, if I was in a delinquent school, I figured I might as well adopt the bad-ass attitude that came along with the whole delinquent package.

When I entered the class, I sighed a little internally. Somehow, I had the misperception that this class would be more involved, or at the very least more eager to learn than the previous class which I had attended (and this was not a difficult expectation to fulfil I grant you-the earlier class had consisted of an entire class of bored students). Apparently, this lesson was going to be no exception.

I went up to the teacher, who licked his lips when he saw me. Ew. That was beyond gross-my teacher was hitting on me! I introduced myself without enthusiasm-trying to make myself seem as non-appealing to him as possible.

He pointed me to my seat in front of two guys who had made a very large impression on me. Namely, Xander and Xavier, the two guys who had lifted me up in an attempt to stop me from leaving this horrible school. Yes, so I evidently still held a grudge against them. So sue me if I don’t take well to people who try to foil my escape plan; and proceed on to lift me in the air.

As I walked to my seat, I had to stop myself from shuddering as I felt the teacher’s eyes raking over my body. “Perv!” I mentally yelled, imagining myself poking out his roving eyeballs with a shiny, pointy fork.

I slid into my seat, trying to escape the teacher’s gaze at all costs. He must have sensed my displeasure, because when I scowled up at him, he flushed a deep red, and quickly glued his eyes on the book in his hands. I studied the cover of his book. “101 ways to be more sociable”. I mentally snorted- he definitely needed to learn that hitting on his student and (visually) sexually harassing her was so NOT the right way to leave a good first impression on his otherwise traumatised-for-life student. Besides the appropriateness of his book, I also noticed how inappropriate the book was for his lesson. Unless chemistry had somehow magically morphed into Psychology or a similar class; I realised that this teacher was one of the other lazy teachers who had long since given up on his students and seemed to live by the motto “If you don’t bother me, I won’t bother you”. As if to further prove my deduction, the teacher then pushed back his chair and lazily propped up his feet on the solid wood table, resting the book in his hands. I had a sudden desperate wish for the table to break and split into two.

With nothing to do, I then proceeded to eavesdrop on the twins’ conversation. However, I soon deduced and decided that they must have been suffering from cases of mistaken identity. For, they seemed to delight or be unaware of the fact that they were each calling the other by the wrong name. Take for example, a short excerpt of their boring conversation: