That Knacky Girl

Chapter 2 (Part 1)

*GPA: It's a student's grade point average, usually being used in either junior high school or high school. We Americans use this scale to calculate our overall grade from our all our classes combined (Grade A being 4 points; Grade B bring 3 points; Grade C being 2 points; Grade D being 1 point; Grade F having no points at all). Our GPA can have a decimal, but there cannot be more than one digit behind that dot.

Thanks to @BelWatson for giving me ideas from your book, Aware Princess Series Conversations!  Read her books: omgosh, her books are just the best! And thanks to her fan, @MBDP98, for commenting, since it saved me a lot of time of trying to figure out how to put a picture in Wattpad books!
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Mrs. Middlesworth writes down notes on how to find the x and y variable of a vertex using the property of parabolas in black marker across a white board. She then demonstrates it the technique by solving a vertex equation involving the property.

Mrs. Middlesworth has dark skin, big, brown eyes, her huge lips, her puff of curly, brown hair and her African American accent.

The other sophomores in the class with their academy uniforms were busy copying down what their teacher wrote on the board.

Amy wrote her notes down nice and neat, which came from being a good artist and passing some of those traits down to the agility of writing: light and precise.

"Alright then, class," Mrs. Middlesworth says, passing out paper, "Please work on this worksheet. Anything not completed needs to be done for homework. If you do not complete this assignment, you get no credit what so ever."

Amy already knew, with the worksheet in her hand, that she would not be able to finish this in class. Heck, she knew before she even started writing those notes down.

Amy Pastel may be the best in arts and crafts, but when it comes to academic studies, she was ranging from average to failing. The only subjects that she'd have A's other than art are Science and English.

Art and science were connected in a way when it comes to how we could see color, certain chemicals going into clay, and on forth. But even when it's not art-related, she remembers every single element and its weight on the periodic table, science equations such as speed and velocity and other such science-y facts in her head for every lesson whether she loves to know of such knowledge or not.

And for English, she only find the subject useful when it comes to reading words off of art books, which is also sacred to her as watching that one fatass hog- was it Fred? Felix?- get almost mauled into human bacon by a Doberman dog.

A moral from this money-fucker with ticking diabetes: never have hotdogs in your panties, children.

Mrs. Middlesworth sat back down behind her desk on her maroon plush chair. Her slightly overweight self, seemingly a bit too snugged in her chair, sat back down, marking on papers with her red pen.

Amy glanced to her paper, grimacing as she notices the first equation laying there:

After using the remainder of time left to try and finish that one problem, she finally got the most legitimate answer.

At least she was done such mental abuse to humans, as Delilah had shown on her Galaxy S4. Amy whipped down her imaginary sweat from her forehead.

Then the bell had rung. The sophomores were out of their desk, handing out their assignment to Mrs. Middlesworth before heading out to their next class.

Before Amy could walk away, Mrs. Middlesworth blocked her way.

"Amy," Mrs. Middlesworth said, "Stay by my desk for a discussion with me."

'I wonder what I did now,' she thought and walked to Mrs. Middlesworth's desk, with Mrs. Middlesworth apologizing for the students behind Amy and how they could come back for a pass if they arrive late to their class.

Many of her teachers that had come and gone in her high school life had at least once talked to her. A few, who had came to the academy's annual art galleria when she had first done doing abstract art, paintings, and sculptures in her freshmen year, had all praise for her art. Some had even instagrammed, snapchatted- whatever people do with that hunk of metal these days- to people. Ever since then, there had been more than 500 people who came to the galleria. A few would even buy her creations for at least $1000, which was more than fine with Amy since she needs all the financial aid she needs to live off with food and a roof to live under.

But, a bunch of her teachers also say she needs to be more communicative to not only them, but the students. Other than her friend Delilah, she has no interest in such a squandering thing. The only time she ever did so with her mouth verbally was back in freshmen year when she was assigned to a fat, olive-skinned partner with oily-looking curly brown hair and brown eyes. He proposed that they do nothing and let him hire someone to do the project for them. It didn't go out to well, since Amy had thrown a lot of profanity and the student got scared out of his wits.

If he ever had any.

The students leave, and the Algebra II teacher closed the door without a glimpse back at it.

"Do you know how bad you are failing in this class right now?" Mrs. Middlesworth questioned, while walking slowly to Amy, with concern.

Uhm... a D for this class can't be that bad, right? Amy thought, while just standing there a bit awkwardly by her teacher's desk.

"Your last test was an F, with only 14% correct. Your average, which was a high C, dropped down to a very low D because of that score." Mrs. Middlesworth said with exasperation(?) "Your GPA* was a bit rusty in your freshmen year," Mrs. Middlesworth started, with herself reaching halfway to Amy, "And don't give me that glare. I'm only this nosy because I'm concern about you and your future. And I have access to your transcripts as a teacher anyway. Going back to our topic, your GPA got better in your sophomore year. But so far this year as a junior, you're having a D and an F from 7 of your classes."

"I tried- tried waiting for you to come to voluntarily come to me to find a way to make up for that grade. But after my patience was worn thin for the 2 week wait and you still didn't come to me, I decided to take matters into my own hands."

'Oh, great.' Amy thought. 'What had that witch done now?'