𝒜𝓁𝓎𝓈𝓈𝒶

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐹𝑜𝓊𝓇

My eyes focus on the clock covering the ugly gray wall right above the white-stained chalkboard.

12:23 pm

I'm tapping my pencil against my notebook while listening to the old calculus teacher go on and on about some lesson in the book. 

Lord when is this torture gonna be over? This is not how a Monday  should be spent. it's not like anyone understands or needs to know any of this crap anyway.

"And that is our quick lesson on piecewise functions." The teacher snarls while he erases the chalkboard.

Piece what what? Ugh! I need to start paying more attention.

Well it would be easier if this teacher wasn't such an old fart and actually used modern techniques. Like we're still using a chalkboard despite it being 2018.

Okay Alyssa, no, it's not his fault why you're not paying attention. You can't blame others for your mistakes.

A large screeching sound comes from the ceiling.

The bell has rung.

Thank the lord.

The entire class starts getting their things together as the teacher screams over the bustling noise.

"Remember class, tomorrow is our quarterly exam. It will cover everything we've learned this quarter. It is also the last grade for this quarter so be prepared. If anyone wants to review, there's a sheet on the table by the door," he leans his slim body against the chalkboard and rubs his gray hair and mouth with his chalk-stained fingers.

Yuck.

But that's amazing, another test I'm gonna fail.

I put my pink notebook and pencil pouch into my gym bag and walk to the front table. I grab one of the worksheets, and shove it into my bag. 

Might as well get practice I guess.

I leave the classroom and walk down the pastel yellow-colored hallway. Chipped paint covers the walls and parts of the marble tiled floors. 

Pastel yellow yuck. Who wants to paint walls the color of pee?

Matter of fact, when was the last time this place got painted? Lord all the funding schools get and they can't afford a decent painter.

As I'm making my way down the hallway, my lips and teeth both start chattering while my arms cross against my pink shirt.

Apparently they can't afford a decent heater either.

Lord, I'm probably just being dramatic to stop my brain from thinking about how bad I'm going to fail tomorrow.

Let's not focus on that right now. 

Instead let's focus on the even uglier-colored lunch room. Who paints walls moss green? First we have walls the color of pee, and now we have walls the color of vomit. 

Probably because everyone is puking up the nasty school food.

The instant stench of rotten eggs and burnt toast spreads across the room and surrounding halls. I can practically taste the nasty sensation in my nostrils.

Can this school do anything right?

I sit down at the wooden table next to Aaliyah, who's eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Once I sit down, I throw my head on the table and sigh. 

I'm not a very suicidal person, but at this moment, I want nothing more than to drop dead.

No literally.