History

We make it just in time for first period. I throw the hot chocolate paper cup I'd gotten on the way away. May does the same with her coffee one. I despise coffee, so I drink either hot/ice chocolate or tea when she orders coffee.

"See you in English," she calls out to me as she makes her way to science.

I, on the other hand, have history first. Just great. The school should really not have us poor kids have history first thing in the morning. I mean, who does that? But again, all subjects are boring, so it wouldn't be much a difference.

Art. It's my favorite subject, and the only one I like. It's the most subject I pay attention to; which is very rare--for me to pay attention to anything that has to do with school at all.

The third bell rings just as I take a seat in the front. This one's in the corner, though. Normally, I would've taken the one that's in the far back corner, four rows back, but I need to be able to see what is written on the whiteboard clearly, especially since it's history I'm talking about.

Our lame history teacher is convinced to make us write until our hands feel like malfunctioning and exploding. All so we can memorize unnecessary stuff before going home, to have more time to finish our homework. Like, what the heck? It never even helps, at all.

All I focus on is to finish writing, without paying any attention to *what* words are being formed, much less understand them.

Any extra time I would get would be to go to work early in hopes of good influence to my boss, and expectantly receive a greater income.

Not everyone's capable to get stuff in their head quickly, especially when other noisy humans are present. Someone should tell that to Mr. Albert; even though his stupid, limited mind wouldn't agree to it. I sometimes wonder if his name is the reason he's into such a dull subject like history . . .

"Sorra," a male voice says, "Earth to Sorra."

What? Who? My eyes flutter open, looking around for the owner of the voice. They land on him. Sneers and snickers fill the room. My ears detect whispers and giggles, too, just before they turn red.

Who other than Mr. Albert himself would be more than happy to humiliate me in the middle of his tedious class?

He was probably bored himself, and I don't blame him for it, but dude, why teach it if it's gonna be spent like this? *Someone* is gonna space out every once in a while.

"Would you care to proceed reading, Miss Thorne?" He asks casually as if he didn't just embarrass me in front of everyone.

What should I say? Can't I just ignore him? Perfect. "Page 274," he finishes.

Ughh. He knows that I don't have my book at the ready, but still decides to play dumb. Typical.

I hurriedly skim through the pages to find the damned page, but unfortunately, some people cannot keep their mouths shut; not even for a minute. People like Ruth. You can guess just how nice she is from her name.

"Mr. Albert, it seems like our dear Sorra isn't ready," she proclaims, her voice dripping with fake sympathy, "I am very willing to advance instead." She batts her eyelashes innocently, flipping her curls over her shoulder with a perfectly manicured finger as the class laughs at my expense. I know better than to believe her malicious act.

"Whatever." He waves his hand in the air dismissively.

She sneers, looking at me in the process. I roll eyes my eyes in return.

Is it possible to dig a deep hole and sink into it forever?

"During their campaign in Poland, the Germans kept only twenty-three divisions in the west to . . ." She reads aloud, silently stating to everyone in the room how much of a loser I am, how I can't simply open a page when she reads perfectly, without misspelling a single word.

At least I got the seat next to the window. . .

***

I meet up with May at our lockers, which weren't magically next to each other just by luck like in films or books. But we were a *little* lucky to have them in the same hallway.

"Heyyy," she grins.

"Hi."

"So, you hungry?"

"A little."

"Wanna get a snack?" She wiggles her eyebrows.

Hmm. I'd love to. But we had expensive ice cream this morning . . .

"No, no!" I say quickly, "It's alright, I'm full."

"Sorrs, c'mon if it's because of the money--"

"May," I take her hand and place it between mine, "I really am full, I swear."

"Fine," she says finally with obvious unwillingness.

"Home?"

"Home, please. I can't wait to watch 'A Silent Voice'," she squeals like a child. She wants to get to know my Japanese culture. The movie comes off as intriguing, too, as well as being rated 4.9 stars.

"I'm as excited as you, but work comes first." She groans, rolling her eyes.

"Yay." she murmurs sarcastically, her lips all but quivering. The disapproval can clearly be seen in her expression. I let her head rest on my shoulder.

"Come on, cheer up, we'll watch it tonight," I promise. "Love your hair, by the way," I admit.

"Thanks, you always say that. Love yours too." I giggle.

"If we stay alive," she finishes, laughing lightly as she looks up to see my reaction. I roll my eyes, but they're smiling. Oh boy. What awaits us is more than just some tiring work.

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