Lynette, the Class-A DumbassMature

It's been three whole months of not running into Mrs. Yack, the infamous History-geek of our high school. I mean, not only does she teach it but she's like...married to it, I'm not even kidding you. She doesn't really have a husband but she tells us to call her 'Mrs.' as an act of us proving the fact that she's a History fanatic even more. Personally, I think she would have made a fine wife for Napolean - that Italian soldier dude (or was he French).

Stephanie and I had had a great time out on the field. It literally felt like we were soaking up the sun in our final desperate attempt to enjoy the summer that had long ended. Well, it did for me though Steph had most of her attention fixed on lovely Tommy who was kicking the ball around, trying to score for his team (though he had occasionally glanced in our direction,s shooting his girl a grin).

As the minutes had passed with Steph and I making small talk, my mind had flashed back momentarily to picture the French class that I was supposed to have been a part of but it was the last of my worries. School had always, and would continue to forever be, the least of my concerns. Apparently, I had established that fact quite well among the other students, and most importantly, teachers as well.

After first period had finished, Tommy, Steph and I had walked back into the main building to make our way to next class. Steph wasn't willing to ditch the next class, and this time, I had no choice but to listen to her even though the only reason she was actually attending Geography is cause she and Tommy were in it together. When I bade farewell to the two of them, it barely counted as a goodbye. They were too caught up in an intense liplock with her pressed up against his locker, making mewling sounds,  to acknowledge my goodbye. It had happened many times before so I was used to it. 

Turning my back on the two deeply engrossed lovebirds, I slowly made my way through the hall which was, once again, overflowing with students on their way to their next class. I caught sight of that dweeb again, the one that had walked straight into me earlier on in the morning as he made his way out of the French class I was supposed to be a part of. Behind  him, the goonish laughter of good ol' Brandon could be heard and I had to duck when Mr. Trent peeped out of the room. Boy, would he have gone into a tantrum if he had seen me. 

I was considering whether I should ditch my next class or not when I discovered that today, Lady Luck was just not on my side. As I rounded the corner of the hallway to head up the stairs towards the rooftop (where a lot of kids got high, don't ask me how I know this), guess who I bumped into? 

"Mrs. Yack!" I squeaked, totally unprepared to face this woman. Her face lit up upon seeing me before twisting up into a frown. As always, Mrs. Yack's hair was neatly held in a bun with just that single strand falling in front of her broad and shiny forehead. Her meaty hands grabbed my hand, as if she knew exactly what I'd been planning to do. I didn't even get a chance to speak as she said sharply, "Hush Brooks', I'm not hearing any of your excuses. Off to homeroom now!" 

"Homeroom?" How did she know I have homeroom? Even wasn't aware of what my time table was. 

"Yes Miss Brooks. Homeroom. I've been assigned to be your homeroom teacher this year."

No. God no. Mrs. Yack for one whole school year? 

I stopped walking, wriggling my hand out of her tight grasp. "You're kidding." 

Mrs. Yack let out a heavy sigh. "I wish I was dear." 

I know she meant that as an insult but I didn't feel any hint of shame. This time, I didn't make any effort to fight her off when Mrs. Yack dragged me off into class. Some of the students snickered as I tripped my way into class with possibly the world's most oddest expression on my face. Mrs. Yack, was not only known for her love of dead people but also for being one of the strictest homeroom teachers you can get assigned. Homeroom, for most people, was just about chilling with your friends. It was mostly taken as a free period but with Mrs. Yack, she actually made the class do stuff. Like homework, or reading into prospective universities we might attend. I can't believe I had her. 

There were a few familiar faces when I looked around the room and it was quite obvious that I was not the only one displeased with the fact that we had been assigned the worst choice of homeroom teachers. Even Ashley Morton had paled the moment Mrs. Yack and I had entered the room, and I was positive it was Mrs. Yack that had caused that effect on her. After everyone settled down in the room, the beady black eyes of hers passed over the room before she boomed, "Welcome, everyone, to this new school term! It's great to see such bright, fresh faces in this room." 

Yeah, right. 

"First and foremost, I hope you all had a great summer. I certainly did, as you can all tell from my hot new tan."Mrs. Yack winked at the boy in the first row who squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "But let's get to business, eh?"

The clippity-clap of her heels echoed off the silent walls of the room as she walked up and down through the different rows of desks, eyeing us all as she continued to speak in a crystal clear voice. "This year, the principal decided to launch a new academic program to push our...negatively motivated students in the right direction." I could actually feel her eyes on me when she said those words. "This program is basically a student-to-student tutoring program so that you youngsters would feel more comfortable. The typical A-grade student will be paired with an under-performing one, and regular tutor sessions will be fixed (and will be allotted into the timetables)." Mrs. Yack cleared her throat, making her way back to the front desk and picking up a piece of paper. "Now I have here the list of students who have been picked to participate in this program. Those of you who are the actual tutors, this will account for part of your grade so don't take matters lightly. And the others who are the ones being tutored...you better not take this lightly. The principal has formed this program with the aim of lifting you all up to achieve the potential we know you are capable of. " 

"And the first person selected from my homeroom class to be part of this program is of course," she paused and then took a brief look around the room before her eyes rested on me. Her thin dry lips curved into a smile. My stomach lurched, knowing exactly what was headed my way. "Lynette Brooks." 

Me - picked for some stupid academic program. I wanted to bang my head against the table, or jump out of my seat and strangle the old crow's neck. I didn't want to be tutored; to have some snobby, 'Grade-A' nerd looking over my shoulder every second to see how I was doing. Studying just wasn't my thing and if Mrs. Yack, Mr. Trent or even the damn principal thought I was going to participate actively in this program: they were wrong. 

"No." 

Mrs. Yack twitched.

"What?"

"No," I repeated, louder this time. "I am not going to let anyone make me feel like a fool just cause I'm not pathetic and don't waste my time with my head stuck in textbooks all day." 

"I don't believe you've got a say in this Miss Brooks." She took off her glasses and wiped the lens on the fabric of her shirt. "Be part of this program, or leave the school." 

I stood up, my hand shooting out to grab my bag. "I will, Your Highness," I spat mockingly before storming loudly out of the classroom. If they think they could force me into some program under the belief that I was 'negatively motivated', they could go ahead and try. They could go ahead and threaten me all they want but I wasn't going to sit down and let them run me over with worthless facts using a nerd as the mediator, no Sir.

I am a proud class-A dumbass, and they will never, ever change that. 

The End

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