Hating My Tutor

Chapter 1: I Don't Need A Tutor

READ: okay fellow cookies you are about to enter a book filled with grammar mistakes, overdramatic characters (it's all for fun!) and just silliness all together!

I was 13 when I started this book and I know I could do better now, years later, and so I'm actually rewriting this story!! This chapter is a now new, and the other ones will get there soon too.

I'm really excited for this. This story is almost to 1M and I want to deserve it <3 it's all thanks to you cookies that this story even exists, so thank you for reading and being the best readers ever (:

ENNJOY!!

♡ Skylar ♡

Staring at the whiteboard in front of me, I start to debate whether or not I should take notes. It really isn't thing, but I had to do something to show my mom I'm becoming more studious. If we can even call this studious. Taking notes of something you don't understand seems pretty pointless to me. I didn't have much of a choice though, not if I didn't want a tutor.

The problem is, I don't even know how to take notes. I mean, do I write everything that's written on the board? That seems a little excessive. I smirk to myself. But it also looks impressive.

With my mechanical pencil in hand and determination in mind, I begin the process of the ultimate note taking. That included constant head bobbling, erasing and refilling led. I wipe the invisible sweat dripping down from my forehead and sigh.

Trying to be something you're not is hard work.

I let go of my pencil for a second to give my hand a short break. Shake, shake, another shake. Gosh, I never thought taking notes would be so tiring. With one last shake of my hand, I begin to write some more.

This whole note taking experience was going good, great actually, even with the dent it left on my finger. But it all ended when Mrs. K decided to suddenly earse the board. Circle by circle she cleared any sign of ink.

No! I wanted to shout. I wasn't finished writing that!

I drop my pencil with frustration, not caring as it rolls off my desk and continues when it reaches the floor. Sighing, I slide my elbows forward and burry my face in my arms.

This is impossible.

"Hey, you dropped this," someone whispers from beside me.

I turn my head to the girl sitting next to me and stare at my pencil in her hand.

"You can keep it," I tell her. I think I'm done writing notes for the day.

"Oh, okay," she says, a little unsure. She then smiles. "Thanks."

I smile back but it turns into a frown the moment I look back at my notes. There wasn't much writing, but I hoped that maybe, if I'm lucky, my mom will change her mind and reconsider this whole tutor idea once she sees them.

<><><>

It was dinner. My favorite meal of the day, and what made it even better was that my mom decided to make my favorite meal on the menu.