I frown at my phone, anger and indignation bubbling up inside of me. The teacher is prattling on, my classmates are submerged into hushed conversations around me and here I am, sat by myself arguing pathetically with my friend over text.
It was something completely trivial. However, I had taken the first brave step and apologized, but apparently 'sorry doesn't cut it for her.' I thought I had left all the arguments behind when I started college. Having attended an all-girls school for five years I was fully aware of the bitchiness and gossip it entailed and was completely relieved when I left. So feeling these familiar feelings right now, almost two years later was not something I was willing to experience.
'Alex, I hope you're not on your phone.' The teacher's voice makes me jump and my head snaps up. I quickly shove my phone under the hem of my jumper and show my hands to the teacher.
'No I'm not, I was fixing a loose thread on my jumper.' As soon as I say this, I regret it. It's the lamest excuse and people dissolve into titters and sniggers. I flush bright red.
Unfortunately for me, my teacher was not born yesterday.
I raise my eyebrow at her, silently challenging her but I'm too chicken to physically say anything. She waits for me to do as I'm told.
I stand slowly. Everyone's stopped laughing and are now speculating me with pathetic anticipation and excitement. Anything to stir up the dull, dreary lesson for them. It'll get them out of a few minutes of pointless information they can guarantee they're never going to need in life. I don't do it intentionally because quite frankly I hate my English class.
Silently praying my phone stays safely tucked away under my clothing, I keep my expression innocent.
'Hmm...' She's looking dubious but I can tell she's beginning to relent.
But then my phone slips.
It hits the carpeted floor with a soft thud, ending up in the middle of the classroom a few feet away from the teachers desk. She looks at it like it's a live bomb, about to destruct at any second, before her eyes flicker up to me. Her expression is fuming as she goes to collect my phone and slams it on her desk. I resist the urge to cry out. The phone is brand new. I don't need her damaging it.
'Detention. Tonight. Till half five.'