MR. HEMMINGS:
Your feet were walking in rather slow pace as you walked outside the school’s parking lot, your feet dragging your tired body towards the front door. There was nothing great than starting out the Monday morning with a lovely math class. You fought the urge to let your eyes stay open but they kept on squeezing in tiredness and because of the burning morning sun. The hallway was empty as you expected, everyone being in class as they knew how to get out at bed at the right time, and being ready before the bell ringed. You didn’t really care if you was late for class at the morning nothing really mattered to you. You dragged yourself over to your locker, throwing in some leftover books before grabbing your math books, shutting it with a thud before heading towards math class, standing in front the door in a questionable thought if you actually should do this or just skip. You were already getting a detention for being late so why even meet up in the first place. Against your thoughts you grabbed the door handle, and as expecting all eyes were on you as you walked through the door, Mr. Hemmings standing at the blackboard with a chalk in his hand. “Late again Ms. Y/L/N.” He mumbled giving you a glare before walking over to his bag dragging out a too well-known purple note. “You and Mr. Trish must be BFF’s at this point.” He joked referring to the teacher that always stayed late to keep an eye on the students at detention. You rolled your eyes at him as he reached out for you to grab the note, you almost ripped it out of his hand before turning around to walk over to your table but he stopped you. “Now that you’re late Ms. Y/L/N, how about you start out by solving the first math problem on the blackboard please.” Your eyes wandered over to the blackboard looking at the what others probably thought was easy as cake but your mind went blank looking back at him hesitating. He let out a chuckle by your lack of math skills shaking his head. “Someone who wants to help Y/N?” He asked out loud making at least 70% of the class raise their hands. Without any doubt you gave him a death glare before marching over to your table, throwing yourself into the chair letting someone else multiply an answer, you regretting immediately that you went into the class.
MR. HOOD:
The sun was burning hot as students were running around on the running field outside the high school’s field, at least 40 students running around by the sound of Mr. Hood’s whistle as he was holding a stopwatch taking the students’ time as another teacher stood with a notepad, writing down the times. “Run, run, run.” You yelled with a laugh afterwards towards the students, having a hand over your eyebrows so you could watch them without problems with the sun, your head in your best friends lap as you watched people doing the exact opposite of you – actually excising. “How come they not say anything yet.” Your other best friend asked looking at the teachers. “They’ve given up on us. Or more likely Mr. Trish have.” You answered, looking at the now sweaty bodies fighting the urge to not let their limbs let go, fighting until they came to the finish line. “Y/L/N, Y/B/L/N, Y/B/L/N, what are you guys doing?” The sound of Mr. Hood yelled being far away yet you could still here him on a clear day. “Looks like he hasn’t given up.” Y/BF/N commented placing her t shirt back on its original place, tanning time over. “What do you think you’re doing?” Mr. Hood asked as he approached, his muscles clenching in the black tee he was wearing. “Tanning.” You asked, looking up at him with a smirk. “I suggest you get your ass up from the ground Y/L/N before it’ll create you trouble.” He warned yet with a smirk looking down at you. “My ass likes the ground sorry.” You challenged and he gave you a raised eyebrow before grabbing your ankle, starting to pull you towards the running mile. The sound of your laugh and screams were mixed in the air as you were pulled away from the grass. “Mr. Hood stop.” You said through muffled laughs as he kept on dragging. He stopped when he came to the asphalt, letting go of your leg. “Now – run.” He said before walking back to the other teacher. Your friends ran over to you, as you brushed some of the dirt away from your clothes. “He is so flirting with you.” Y/BF/N commented making you look back at Mr. Hood with a shrug. “I doubt that.” You mumbled, before raising yourself up from the ground, ready to run.
MR. CLIFFORD:
Music. The only subject that was easy to survive without being questioned about ridiculous things such as algebra or science. Not to mention how chill Mr. Clifford actually was. He didn’t even dared to comment if people came a little too late for class like other teachers would. He was chill and nice to be around. Currently everyone was sitting in front of the blackboard, Mr. Clifford explaining the different octaves on the piano by playing the different sounds and writing the notes down on the blackboard afterwards. “If you guys have any questions just ask.” He reminded and a few students nodded their head. “I’ve got some small tasks for you, they aren’t that easy so feel free to ask.” He said as he started to pass out some papers. As the paper landed on your table you leaned forward to read it, some of it was easy yet some of it was as it stood on another language. “You understand this?” Your side partner asked, wiggling with the pencil in his hand. “Some of it, some not.” You shrugged starting to scribble some few things you knew down. “Me too.” He chuckled doing the same but as you both came to a question you didn’t know how to answer you looked at each other for help on the same time. “Mr. Clifford.” He yelled looking up at the blackboard, and not far after Mr. Clifford came down to your table ready to help you guys. “What’s up.” He asked, placing his elbows on your table leaning forward to see the task. “Oh it’s pretty easy actually you just have to..” The sound of Mr. Clifford started to fade away as you went into your own mind. The way his mouth moved as he talked and his green eyes looking at you and your side partner as he spook was memorizing. It wasn’t far after that he had stopped talking that you zoned back to life. “Got it Y/N?” He asked with a smile looking at you. You only nodded your head at him, letting out a small smile yourself. None of you moved, he just smiled back. “Mr. Clifford.” The sound of some other student yelled. ”Coming.” Mr. Clifford yelled still having eye contact with you before he broke it, removing his face from yours to head over to whoever student that had called him for help, letting his cologne still linger in the air in front of you.
MR. IRWIN:
”I’ve corrected your assignments.” Mr. Irwin announced pulling out a stack of papers from his bag, making every student tear their eyes away from whatever had occupied them, yet your eyes were still glued to the screen in front of you, your finger pressing down on the “down arrow” on your laptop, your Tumblr Dashboard being more exciting than the English class. You barely noticed Mr. Irwin stand in front of you before a stack of papers were thrown onto your hands that were resting on your keyboard, a massive “E” plastered in red on the front page. “Great.” You mumbled letting your hands wander up to Mr. Irwin still standing in front of your table with an unapproved look on his face. “How do you think it’s going yourself Ms. Y/L/N?” He questioned not expecting an answer from you as he walked away and passing out assignments to other students. “Oh oh.” Matty – your best friend - commented looking over at your table. “My parents are going to kill me.” You whispered looking back at him with a half faded smile. “What went wrong with the assignment?” He asked moving closer to you. “I made it in a fast mode a Sunday night. I almost forgot about it so it just turned out shit. Most of my assignments have been crap recently.” You grabbed the assignment scrambling it together into a ball before throwing it down your purse. “He’s coming back.” Matty whispered before moving away from you and back to his original seat next to yours, going back to his own assignment. Mr. Irwin placed another paper on your table, making you knit your eyebrows before grabbing it. “What’s this?” You questioned looking up at him with a puzzled look. “A place where students can come if they need help with assignments in different subjects. It happens every Wednesday after school. You should try it once.” He said with no emotion in his tone, walking back to take a seat at his desk. You grabbed the paper showing it to Matty. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?” He asked reading the small words on the paper from his seat. “What if it doesn’t help?” You asked unsure scrambling that paper as well throwing it down in your bag next to the other. “What if it does?” Matty asked, giving you a small smile. His words made your mind think. Should you try this or should you just give up already?
