The Curse

Chapter 5- An apple a day keeps the Dr away

       I plopped down on my uncomfortable white desk chair, placing my math workbook on my lap, and turned to the right page. As I read the first question out loud to myself, I couldn't help but turning around and around in the seat, slowly.

      "Kay has $100 from babysitting." I highlighted the number in bright yellow marker. Seemed I would have to move to Kay' s neighbourhood if she was getting $100. "How many apples could she buy if..."

      The question dragged on in the most boring and typical fashion imaginable, proving that no matter what kind of invisible force was keeping you from killing yourself, math would always be there to make you want to reach for the nearest gun just to stay away from it.

      "Evil thing." I murmured to the question. "Who the hell would buy $100 worth of apples from babysitting, anyways? I should refuse to answer it. Refuse to answer anything that doesn't make sense." Still, I grudgingly wrote the answer in very sharp stab-your-eye-out pencil. "What's she planning to do with all of those apples once she's bought them? See, these are the questions we should be asking this 'Kay' person."

      I was talking to myself again. Not that I minded. Not that anyone minded it, really. It wasn't a habit I was trying to break, but it made me wonder why I did it.

     I rolled my eyes and shook my head to shake the subject off, pushing the apple question away from my mind and focusing on the second one, this time about cheap old Trucks I didn't give a rat's behind about. For a subject that revolved around numbers, this definitely had a lot of X's and Y's in it. And I thought I was evil...this put me to shame.

     Once I was done every stupid and senseless question on the page, I quickly placed the demon's spawn away into my bag to contain it and sat on my bedsheets, at a loss of things to do. I was starving like a...well...like a starving person basically, but mom hadn't called me back down for dinner yet, so I was left to die of starvation in my room...or boredom. Whichever killed me first.