Question AuthorityMature

            Kasha Craimer

            I made my way into my class, Civics and Careers, and saw that the only seat that was left was in the second row, one to the left of center. But it wasn't too bad of a seat. Timmy was seated right next to me, and that kid makes me laugh. He's strange, but in a good way.

            I strode up to the teach, and forced my late slip at her. She gave, me a hard look, as if to say, "You couldn't wait until I was done talking?" No, I wanted to tell her. You're lucky I even showed up. I took my seat.

            "Dude, there's like, fifteen minutes left of class." Timmy informed me and I nodded at him with a grin. He sometimes just didn't understand they way I was. He was kind of a goody two shoes, but he didn't mind if I did something bad. I think, he found me interesting.

            "Well, if I'm gonna be late," I told him, opening my note book, which didn't actually have any notes in it - just an abundance of bored, half conscious doodles and song lyrics. "I might as well be really late."

            Timmy shook his head and chuckled a little. "You're going to fail if you keep this up." Such a worrier, Timmy is. It makes me sick, actually. How can someone care about school so much? That never made much sense to me.

            "Hey, classes are easier the second of third time around." I said jokingly, as he gave me his confused look. The teacher was handing out papers to the class. I looked down at it and read over it quickly.

            My Life, My Morals, the title read. Under it were several questions about what we wanted in our futures and how we planned to achieve them. I got to work immediately and filled out the honest truth about my future.

            The honest truth, however didn't seem to please my teacher. She came over and examined my page in surprise when she saw that I'd actually done my work. Her expression changed drastically as she read my answers, thought.

            "What is this?!" she waved the paper in front of my face. I swatted her hand away and smirked. She was a plump lady, with long gray hair pulled violently back into a bun. Her face was wrinkled and her eyes hard. She was pretty much ancient and didn't know how to handle today's youth. I liked to point that out constantly. I was, hands down, her least favourite student.

            "That's my future. I graduated high school eventually, skip college and go on tour with my band. They're all jerks, ya know, but I think we could make it big if we get the chance."

            "What about this?" she pointed at the question which asked; ‘What are your plans to become successful in your future?' In my messy handwriting was scrawled, ‘I don't know. Sit back, practice, party, sleep with my roadies and whoever else, play gigs and drink till I puke. That's how you make it big in the music industry.'

            "That's absurd!" she was furious with me, and was shouting; which amused me. And, of course, it was making a scene. All eyes in the classroom were on us. Timmy giggled beside me. I wanted to follow suit, but I just stared up at the woman with a blank expression.

            "But Teach, it's true! How do you think The Stones became famous? Mick Jager probably convinced people to let them play gigs by sleeping with them."

            The class tittered and the teacher went pale.

            "Down to the office! Detention for a week, young lady." she screeched, pointing an accusing finger at the door behind her.

            "I already have detention for a week," I told her and a little anger from earlier rose in my chest again. "So we're good there. But, if you insist that I leave your classroom..."

            Picking up my bag and note book, I snagged my work from the teacher's hand and headed for the door - it would give my laugh later. A couple kids in the back offered me high fives as I left. The teacher didn't say another thing to me as I walked out the door merrily.

The End

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