Afternoon Shifts

$20.00

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Current Balance: $20.00

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     Things are looking very grim. 

Rowena Pierce's Prospective List on "How to Raise $300 in One Month" (and why they all won't work):

Option One: Have a bake sale. (Only clubs are allowed to have bake sales, and I'm not in any  that hold fundraisers. I wonder if the chess club is still accepting applications?)

Option Two: Host a car wash. (Not with these tan lines.)

Option Three: Beg my parents. (As probable as Sam Seckinger being a virgin, which basically means a 0% chance of it being possible.)

Option Four: Ask for charitable donations outside of my local Walmart. ("Please donate $300 today! All funding goes towards helping a desperate girl in need of a boyfriend!")

Option Five: Sell all of my clothes on ebay. (Because who needs clothes?!)

     Ruth's mouth shrivels like a sour prune. She's struggling for something vaguely nice to say, she really is, but all that comes out of the amorphous shaped blob that is her mouth are unintelligable noises.

     "This is absolutely hopeless," she comments a moment later.

    Rowena draws thick black lines through the paper. "I know." The marker's shrill squeak is lost amoungt the countless other sounds permeating the classroom.

     (Is that someone moaning sexually in the background?)

     Even though Mrs. Rockbell is in the midst of an incredibly important lecture concerning medieval chivalry and the Virgin Mary, no one is paying attention. Tom Ryner is snickering crudely at some video that is ostensibly porn and Gemma Marshal is either very constipated or taking a selfie a few rows behind him.

     And nobody cares.

    The AP Literature class thrives on chaos and failing grades and it's become an accepted standard so long as the students pass the finals. In fact, all the rules only boil down to a single one: do not remove your pants to proudly display your genitals whilst the teacher is speaking.

     Mrs. Rockbell actually has made that a written rule in the course description. The senior year of 2008 was a very wild one.

    (2008 was just a wild year in general.)

    Rowena likes the class because of that. It's like a free period.

     And whereas other kids might use a "free period" to study or catch up on homework, she is doing something much more productive. 

     Another strike goes through the next item on the list.

     "You could just give up coffee for a month," Ruth suggests, her feet propped up on the book tray of the desk in front of her. "God knows you'd be ten thousand times richer if your parents didn't buy you Starbucks every morning."

     "Then I'd be..." An earsplitting grin crosses Rowena's face. "Then I'd be depresso."

     "Oh god."

     The smile remains despite the lack of a reaction. "Come on," she pushes. "Admit it. That was a good pun."

     Ruth shakes her head stubbornly. "This must be fate," she decides, pointing an accusatory finger near the tip of Rowena's nose. "I bet that your bad puns are some kind of indication of your bad luck."