The Cold Shoulder

"Ms. Summers." I cringed at the tone Mrs. Hammond used and slapped the tardy-note onto her desk.

"Here you go." Now you can't put me in detention you evil woman.  She looked disappointed as she read over the yellow-colored slip of paper. That woman hated me with a passion and I knew she would do anything to keep me after school and torture me. It's probably because I sat with the 'hooligans' on the first day, and since then had been stereotyped into being the type of student who didn't care about grades and such. Not today though. 

After gaining a firm nod from Mrs. Hammond, I walked through the row towards, not my usual spot, but a free desk located at the far opposite of where Damien, Leo and Nick sat. To be fair, I didn't have anything against the last two but I just couldn't deal with the whole note-passing game right now. 

Sitting down, I opened my bag, got out my pen, notebook, and English Literature textbook. Opening up to the right page, I quickly skimmed over the content. Poems. Great. I loved poetry so this would be a great way to make time fly. Or so I thought. 


I walked faster, trying to ignore the three voices that called out my name  simultaneously. Act deaf. You can't hear them. You're in a swarming hall of teenagers going over to their next class. All you can hear are the rumors that are being whispered by the girly girls in that corner, the buzz of the latest scoop within the school about the jock who cheated on his girlfriends, the announcements being read through the-

I walked straight into someone and muttered an apology. But the person didn't step away, instead, he said, "I believe your friends are trying to tag you down Makayla." Looking up, I realized it was Adam. The all-famous Adam, friend of Damien. Oh joy. 

"Actually, I really have to get going to class but-"

"Great! Adam! Keep her there for me, will you?" Damien shouted from, what I guessed must be only ten to fifteen feet behind me. Before Adam could even get the chance to process with that big and thick brain of his, I squeaked, "Gotta go," and slipped through. 

But I knew it was inevitable. No matter how much I tried avoiding those three, they would corner me in a few minutes. I had Music, which meant a class of doing absolutely nothing. And when one is not preoccupied singing out their heart, or playing a melody on the piano...

I left that thought hanging as I rounded the corner and swung the room door open. Muttering a "Hello" to Mr. Stevenson/Joshua, my eyes scanned the room to find a good hiding place. In the end, I settled for the desk in the farthest corner of the room, knowing that in about five minutes time, I would be a vulture's meal. 

The End

366 comments about this story Feed