The Christopher {an outsiders story}

23. class

Steve lead us to our first period and guess what? it just had to be algebra. i took out another cigarette and jammed it in my mouth. "you gonna be one of those bad girls?" Steve asked. "i hope not, i hate those girls," i say. "well that's what you're comin' off as," Steve pointed at my cigarette. "lose that, and lose that rep," he said. i threw my stick on the ground and stomped on it. then Steve and i walked into the room.

i sat next to Steve and another girl. the girl was a soc. i could easily tell. she had bright red hair. Steve leaned over to me and whispered, "that's Cherry Valance. she's a cheerleader." i rolled my eyes, "great."

i propped my feet on the desk in front of me. the whole class was here except the teacher. "where's the teacher?" i ask Steve. "class ain't starting till...." all of a sudden a bell rang, "now."

the teacher walked in and introduced himself. "i am Mr. Valish." "i whispered to Steve, "some name," then giggled. "i see we have a jokester in here, what is your name?" Mr. Valish eyed me. "Shyla. Shyla Curtis," i say sassily. "well you aren't anything like your brother, Ponyboy," he said. there were a couple of chuckles coming from the socs in the class. "i think this fella's flirtin' with me, what do you think, Steve?" i look at Steve and wait for him to say something. he snickers and says, "look how red your face is gettin'!!" he points to Mr. Valish, and sure enough, his face resembles a tomato. "get on with the class already, didn't come here to be flirted with," i say.

that was a very fun class. Steve thought so too. the socs seem to like me, emphasizing seem. i don't know if i'm actually getting on their good side or that they are just acting like it. even though it was algebra, i didn't learn anything about it. maybe it was because i was distracting Mr. Valish by biting my lip every time he looked at me. or winking at him. or touching my thigh and making sizzling noises. i thought school was gonna be boring, but it wasn't so far.

the next class i had was literature with Mrs. Worhawl. she's pretty cool, i guess. but we gotta read this book called To Kill A Mockingbird. it's really boring, and you don't even get to know how to kill a mockingbird. during the class, i threw spitballs at the jocks, blew on the basic white girls' hair, and just was annoying to everyone around me. you can probably tell i have nobody in the gang with me in literature.

i walked outta Mrs. Worhawl's classroom and ran into Johnny. "aye Johnnycake! what class do ya have next?" i ask. he simply replies, "biology." i dig around my backpack for my schedule, and find out that i'm apparently going to biology too. "let's walk together, i have the same class."

Johnny walks me into a classroom full of cages. i look inside the cages and i see geckos, frogs, lizards, and snakes. "i am definitely gonna let some of those out," i whisper to Johnny. "tuff," he mumbles. "let's sit next to each other, it'll be fun," i assure him, and then the teacher walks in.

"my name is Ms. Deck, i will not tolerate any troublesome teens in my classroom, as i have heard that some of you are," she eyes me, "and there will be immediate punishment. do you all understand?" all the class nod their heads. this class legitimately looks terrified of this teacher. but i'm Shyla Curtis, and i ain't scared of nobody.

Ms. Deck kept droning on and on and on. i shoved my hands in my pockets and felt my cigarette box. i smirked at Johnny and he saw my pocket. then he gave an evil smile and nodded. i took a stick out and lit it. a girl sitting in front of me turned around and growled at me, "put that out, grease." i chuckled and said, "make me." the girl turned back around and raised her hand high. Ms. Deck called on her, "yes, Amanda?" "this greaser behind me is smoking in class," she turned to look at me. i blew some smoke in her face, and Amanda started to dramatically cough. "PUT THAT CIGARETTE OUT AND STAND IN THE HALL!" Ms. Deck yelled at me. i got up and walked towards the teacher. of course i had to blow smoke at her, and throw my cigarette at her skirt. and suddenly, the bell rang for lunch.