Hall & Oates [NaNoWriMo Fail]

Out of Touch

prompt 3: in which a character learns a new skill

Hall

High school experiences mean very different things to very different people. For instance, my mom thinks that her high school was the best place on earth (I Googled her school, it was shut down for having asbestos), for other people it's the worst place on earth. I, on the other hand, think that it's just a pit stop in the grand scheme of things. Sure, it holds "great" oppurtunities but so do all pit stops (using the bathroom, buying beef jerky).

Our high school just happened to be one of the shittiest pit stops in North America.

The paint was peeling off of the walls in the classrooms and instead of repainting, the holes were covered with posters that said things like "This is a Gum free zone!" (which reminds me, why can't we have gum in school?) The food was often burnt and inedible, the teachers were often fresh out of high school themselves and most students spent so much energy not working hard that they were technically working hard. The books were outdated and ripped and written in and for some reason bringing the damned things every single day was a huge part of my final grade.

The worst part was re-doing my work when idiot teachers lost it "painting the town red" or whatever the hell teachers waste their lives doing. So instead of spending time with my beloved mother and sister or practicing with my band or pretending to be an octopus, I was redoing a worksheet on the Constitution.

"Anyday now Michael."

I sighed and looked up from the worksheet, "Don't lose it in the first place, Robert-"

"It's Mister Bowen."

I rolled my eyes, "You were in my science class three years ago, I'm not calling you Mister or Sir or anything that implies respect."

Robert looked like a kid wearing a teacher costume, with his creased pants and Spider-Man tie and excessively gelled hair (he probably spent more money on his hair gel than anything else, his hair defied gravity a little too much and looked like an oil spill). When he stood in front of us all for lectures and presentations, he used index cards so he wouldn't forget stuff (just like a novice).

He crossed his arms, putting his feet on his desk, "Just finish up and get out."

"Yeah, right." I'd figured out a long time before that Robert didn't really check the re-dos. If there was an answer on each line he slapped an A+ on it and called it a day. So I filled in the blanks with song lyrics and the occasional rude remark (The main idea of the fourth article of the Constitution is: to use less hair gel).

I dropped the assignment on his desk and waved, "See you next time."

He mumbled something under his breath and began to load up his laptop bag.

I crossed my arms, "Are you angry Robert?"

"Get out Michael."

"Put a little more gel in your hair, that'll make you feel better."

"Just because we were in the same class once, doesn't mean that I wont write you up."

I thought about this for a second, because I'd never been in any administrative or academic trouble before (I may have been a jerk, but I actually did well in school), but there was no way that Robert was serious. I crossed my arms and smiled, "I will give you $20 if you can tell me exactly how you write someone up."

He frowned, "Get out."

"I knew it."

"Get out."