June 2nd, 1973. Day One.Mature

 I snorted and wiped the sticky paper from my neck, onto the jacket sleeve of the guy next to me. He made a disgusted face and glared at me, but I payed no attention. I never liked him anyway. He was a Monkees fan.

 I yawned again, trying to remember what was so good about my dream. It was something about being outside, with my shoes off and dirt between my toes. I always loved the outdoors and being locked inside this brick jailhouse was practically torture. By the time the end of class bell rang, I had learned nothing and was officially done for the day. Grabbing my books, and ignoring the bodies that crashed against me, I made my way to my locker.

 Harper was already there, waiting for me. "Hey shorty, wanna ditch? I don't know about you, but I feel that I have learned enough about the history of the toothpick to finally make it in the real world!" He grinned that lopsided grin of his.

 "Ha. Haha. You know that was so witty. 'Shorty'. Did you think of that off the top of your head? You should be on the goddamn Tonight Show." I shoved the books in my overcrowded locker. "I thought you'd never ask."

The End

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