Chapter 3
Here's the thing.
I don't like people. Not the way the act, look or think. I don't like the gossip, the tears, the frienships, the betrayals, the love and oh so important heartbreak that pollutes their minds. I don't like the bitchy girls, the pig-headed boys, the desperate women or the blind men. Its the pure pettiness of it all, from the whispers to the cries, the prayers to the curses, everybody destroyes themselves from the inside. Because that's really were all the problems come from, the little rotten desires that seep into our hearts, polluting the mightiest of men.
I won't pretend I'm safe from the world and it's intoxicating reek of corruption, hell I'm right in the middle of it. But I like to think that, in someway, I don't act quite as blind and stranded as the rest of the hopeless herd. I like to think that I know what's what, but somehow even that seems untrue. I could delve into philosophy, psycology, physiology, physio therapy, physical activity and god knows what else, but to put it straight, I firmly believe that nobody's got it right.
Not that it makes a difference anyways.
See, as much as the petty people that waste countless hours disliking in my head, truth is I'm one of them, my mother's one of them, the man watching me suspiciously from behind his desk is one of them. There's no way to escape the overwhelming amount of people, and it's ridiculous to try.
So, somehow this was bound to happen, this castle of black paper feathers to come tumbling down, my vision cracking at the edges.
Because, I did eventualy end up migrating from the library to the classroom down the hall. I did eventualy end up going to math class, it was a fact of life that was as unsurmountable as the people. As much as I would love to look you in the eye and tell you I was a total badass who skipped class everyday because I didn't care about the world and was an anarchist, rebelling against the restraint the evil society was slowly chocking my teenager rights, I honestly wanted a job, money, an appartment and food. And sadly, math class happened to be a condition upon which depended such necessities.
Sorry world of free lance activist, Avery Hall's not moving out to live in your brightly painted van. I quite like clothes on my back and meat on my bones. Food is not something one should ever consider giving up, in my professional hungry teenage girl opinion.
As I sat down in my usual seat and whent through the motions of taking out my stuff, the continuous buzz of conversation making the idea of a nice cozy westfalia for 8 looking increasingly attractive.
Just as I had started to lose my mind, the door opened abruptly, killing of every voice. They all stared at the door, waiting for the curious character to step forward.
Recently, our old math teacher had gone and gotten herself pregnant. Again. So, either the school had gotten sick of her string of maternity leaves or she simply stoped working so she could pop out more babies, nobody knew, but in either case, we needed a new teacher to occupy the position. And said new teacher had just slammed open the door to our class and still stood anoyingly out of view.
The moment was almost comical, all eyes turned to the door, awaiting a mysterious stranger to sweep in with their awkward personality, clueless attitude and strange teaching habits to teach us about life, friendship, family, love and the importance of education and respect through heart-wrenching and tear-jerking moments, unlikely bonds and statisticaly impossible situations, all the while keeping the viewers on the edge of their seats, anticipating the end and clutching their stomach all they laugh their way through a valuable life lesson and the moving story of a community coming together under impossible odds.
Kidding.
The grumpy old man probably just had busy hands and dropped his keys.
I would have laughed at how strange and suspensful the moment was had the entire classroom not been so eerily silent.
The moment, though only seconds long, seemed to stretch on and on, when finaly a head popped through the door.
