2:47pm.
Can the clock move any slower? Honestly, I'm not one to hate all of my classes, but this class is in a league of its own. History. Mr. Armstrong is the dullest, most unrealistic teacher in the entire United States. I'm literally going to die of boredom. Is there anyway to take myself out of my own misery in this classroom? Death by paper clip? I could fake a seizure...but then I'd have to go to the hospital.
2:49pm.
Two minutes? That's all? I've been listing all the things I could've been doing instead of sitting in this class. Eating, cleaning, studying, daydreaming about Hunter and Tristan....let's be real. If you were in my position, you'd be doing the same exact thing.
I could also be planning out my outfit for tonight. Ya know, the party. It's tonight. Tawny's helping me get ready, since she's super high fashion and apparently, I need to make a statement.
"This is your first party, you've gotta live it up and wow people. This might never happen again," I recalled these wise words from Tawny while sitting in class.
At the thought of the party, I glance over to Hunter, my date, and smile. I hope it won't be awkward. But, why would it be? It's just a party. Besides, we'll be with friends all night, I mean, how bad could it be?
2:54pm.
Six minutes left. I begin to itch to get out of this class. Why does this class have to last 917 years? I could ask to go to the bathroom... Then Mr. Armstrong would just tell me to wait until class is over. I could tell him I have to change my tampon? Too much? Yeah, I know.
"Ms. Void, would you care to answer the question?" Mr. Armstrong insists.
I'm suddenly snapped out of my mental complaints.
"Huh? Uh--can you repeat the question? I was...taking notes," I lied.
"Ms. Void, what was the main injustice the Cherokee Indians had to endure during the Cherokee Trail of Tears?" Mr. Armstrong repeated.
Oh.
"The main injustice was their moving conditions. They were supposed to be escorted along the trail, but instead they were forced to walk at gunpoint, with no supplies from their homes. And about 4,000 Native Americans died on the trail due to exhaustion, starvation, and exposure," I summed up, simply. "That's pretty harsh if you ask me. "
"Well, I did ask you. Well done, Averly, for such a well communicated synopsis," he awarded. "See me after class."
WONDERFUL.
2:59pm.
"And, it looks like we're out of time. Have a good weekend, remember, we have a few extra credit opportunities coming up this week and perhaps a pop quiz, so don't neglect your work!" He called over the many students packing up their backpacks.
I quickly shoved my notebook into my bag and waltzed out of the classroom gracefully. I felt as light as a cloud, especially since History was over.
I headed over to Mr. Armstrong's desk.
"Averly, yes, would you like a few extra credit assignments?" he asked.
Hell no.
"Sure Mr. Armstrong. What'll it be?"
"Wonderful. You'll be a tutor in the reading and writing department for some students your age. If you do this once a week for two hours, I will award you with an extra 5% tagged onto your grade," he said.
I already have straight A's.
"Sure, Mr. Armstrong. That'll be great," I added with a fake smile.
