Angels Do Exist (ON HOLD! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK)

Chapter Four

Chapter Four 

       This week is going by too slow. It's only Wednesday and I can't wait for the weekend to come around again. I sit and stare absent minded at the clock on the wall ticking away. C'mon bell, hurry up and ring. My last period history class ends at 2:50 and its only 2:21. I smack myself right in the forehead because I know the longer I anticipate the end of this class, the longer it will actually take to end. I smack myself again. 

        "Miss Ariana. Are you okay, or do I need to send you outside for you to take a moment and get yourself together?" Mrs.Truman says, obviously aggravated.

        Ugh, what the hell? What did I do? I stare around the classroom to see a few heads turned towards me and I figure I must have done something wrong. My closest friend sitting to the left of me, Andrea, holds back giggles as she looks between Mrs.Truman and I. Her amusedexpression is enough to make me laugh but I decide against it. Instead, I look back over to my history teacher to recieve her glaring eyes. I return her glare. 

        "No, I'm fine."

        "Well, you ought to quit looking at that clock because we have plenty of time left so pay attention to the lesson. Now how about you participate in the class discussion that you were oblivious to and enlighten us with your opinion on The United Nation's purpose and goals for the countries in need of their help, like Bangladesh for example."

        I smirk. Mrs.Truman is really the one who has not been paying attention all year. She must not know me, because history is one of my favorite subjects, whether it be global or U.S. I actually like to engage in stimulating conversations that involve international issues and because I'm a very opinionated person, I like to argue and voice my opinions. Just as I'm about to open my mouth and bless the class with my opinion, the door to the classroom swings open and a seemingly toned, dark brown haired boy walks in.

        I immediately frown. 

        What the hell. 

        "Hi, young man, may I help you?"

        "Uh yeah actually, I recently transferred back to finish out my school year and they switched a few classes around on my schedule, is this 8th period history? Truman?"

        I hear a few kids start to whisper and a few girls stare at him with wide eyes like he's something unbelievable that they've never seen before.

        "Oh yes. You're in the right place. Come see me after class so we can sort some things out, but for now go ahead and take a seat anywhere that's available and start writing."

        I glance at the open seat next to me, then back at him, at the same time his eyes peer into mine and a smirk emerges on his face.

        Oh no. 

        He plops down right next to me and opens his notebook to begin taking down the notes on the board. I frown and do the same.

        "Hi Ariana."

        "Hi asshole."

        "Ouch. I thought we'd gotten past that by now," he says.

        "So you thought you could just walk up into my father's church and insult me and judge me and expect me to speak to you kind-hearted and mannerly? Yeah okaaay." I roll my eyes.

        "Look, I was thinking we could start over a new leaf, you know. Wipe the slate clean. That sorta thing. C'mon, hopefully you won't be a bitch anymore and we could get along. I'm actually a really handsome, funny, amazing guy." He places a hand over mine, then laughs. I hate him.