You Crept Into My Heart [Rewritten Version Continuation]

[1] Your Feet Stink!

A F I A   P A T E L

Tick tock. Tick tock.

I gave out a long sigh as I heard my professor's voice drone on and on about the assignment that we had to do for this semester. I already looked over the printed out worksheet my professor handed out- while profusely licking his fingers so his spit touched the side of my page- a while ago,so I had a basic idea of what was in store for us this semester and if I struggled with it or had any questions I know I'll just be able to ask Mikayla-my casual friend that attended this class with me- for help as she's always paying attention and takes down notes on literally everything the teacher says, when he talks about what he did the following day to prepare for this lesson to what we will be doing in a years time.

As I'm in my thoughts my eyes drift to my page and I catch site of the slightly damp corner. I let out an irritated sigh.

Do all teachers have that disgusting habit?

I swear most of my professors have that annoying tendency to licking their fingers and casually touching our pages. There is over a billion germs that reside in our spit. I shiver and my nose scrunches in disgust at that thought. Would they like it if we happen to ask them for help and spat in their face as we spoke to them? No, so why do that to us.

I glanced up at the wooden clock that looked old enough to be in my great grandmas house. Five more minutes. Five more minutes till I leave university. Five more minutes till I go home ad eat that leftover pizza that we ordered for supper last night. I made sure to scribble my name on the box so everyone knew-hint mostly my brother that it was mine and no one-hint my brother again- will eat it. Living with an older brother makes you the apple of your parents eye, the princess. And we all know the princess never does anything wrong so it gives me an advantage in any needed situation.

Imagine life without my selfish, rude and hog of a brother. Just thinking about it makes me wish it was true. But wishes are just wishes and not all the time does it come true. But honestly the more I think about it the more I wouldn't be able to live without him. He's been there for me from the time I was little and scraped my knee to helping me out of trouble from my parents. And sadly I do love him and I will miss him if he leaves. I know, unfortunate.

The bell startled me out of my thoughts and I quickly grabbed my things from the desk-making sure my fingers avoided the part that had my professor's slimy spit all over it- and shoved it in my sling bag. I gave a quick hug to Mikayla and told her I'll meet up with her, Yasmeen and Rayhaan-my two other best friends- tomorrow.

I take out my fathers BMW car keys while walking towards the school parking lot. My father only allowed me to use his 'precious' car today because he took the day off- as important people were visiting us. Otherwise I would have caught a ride with Mikayla as I  live one block away from her so it was on the way to her house.

I spot the white BMW under the parking space that had a tree above it. I parked it there because I knew the Midday sun will hit where the block of my last lesson was so to avoid the leather of the seats burning me alive I made sure to find a shady spot.

I opened the car door and threw my sling bag in the back of the car, not too hard making sure the contents of the bag remained inside. I placed my keys inside, turned on the radio and drove out of the parking lot.

°•°•°•°•

I saw my double story white house come into view as I turned the corner. My house looked like the picturesque perfect house that appeared in magazines, with its white walls and wooden picket fence surrounding it. Fresh flowers bloomed and green grass surrounded the house. A cement path made from the fence to the house with tiny white stones on either side of it. A rather dull grey garage next to it with a driveway leading to it. I liked my house because it had a homey feeling to it. It comforted me and I lived her for most of my childhood.