What I Hate About You (#1 What I Hate About You)

Chapter 2

I head straight inside the building once I enter the school grounds. Students see me coming and quickly move out of the way before I tell them off for not moving. I head to my locker, which is like in the worst spot in the entire school. It's right near the girls' restrooms. I hate having it there because all I can hear are girls chatting or laughing loudly in the bathroom, and it drives me nuts just hearing them being so happy all the time. I don't see why it's so necessary to be so happy.

I grab my English and German book from the locker. The bell for roll call rings just as close my locker. I push my way through the corridor through the crowded corridor as students make their way to roll call. I sit in the back of the classroom and pull out my sketch book and begin drawing. I don't even know why we need to have roll call. I mean, you just sit in the room for fifteen minutes while you wait for the teacher to mark off your name and to read out the daily announcements.

I ignore everyone around me, sketching an outline of a picture I had in my mind. I have sketched my dad's face so many times over the last six years that I didn't even have to look at a photo of him. I could sketch him from memory. I never allow anyone to see what I draw, especially my sister. No one would ever understand why I constantly drew pictures of my dad. It's just my way of keeping my memory of him alive since he walked out on my mum, Lindsay and me almost six years ago.

I was glad once the bell rings for first period. I gather up my things and hurry out of the classroom, heading straight to English.

I'm the first person to enter the room, and I take my usual spot in the front seat. Because of the arguments my sister and I always get into during class, Mrs Callea likes us sitting at the front so she can keep a close eye on us. I hate sitting at the front and prefer to sit in the back where I can concentrate on my drawings and half listen to whatever the teacher tells us to do.

I continue sketching in my book as the rest of the class arrives into the classroom. I soon hear my sister walking into the room with Simon. I look up from my book for a moment as I turn to see her kissing him. I roll my eyes, and turn back to my book.

"Lindsay, Simon, do you mind not doing that in my classroom thank you," Mrs Callea says as she walks into the classroom and walks to the front, putting her things for the lesson on her desk.

Lindsay takes a seat near me, leaving a gap in between us. Simon used to sit with us, but our teacher made him sit in the back so he was away from my sister. The two of them never stopped talking and were always interrupting the lesson.

Mrs Callea is not a bad teacher, but one of the things I really hate about her is when she gives us so many assignments at once. She seems to love giving us so many assignments. Same with every other teacher in this school, especially because we were in our final year of high school, and assignments seem to pop up everywhere one after another once you completely one of them. We have only just returned to school a month ago, and the work just keep piling up like we have nothing better to do with our lives. Soon we will be having our exams at the end of March.

Mrs Callea stands at the front of the classroom, ready to begin the lesson. She has gotten a haircut over the weekend and her strawberry blonde hair is now level with her ear. I think the hairstyle looks ridiculous on her. It is way too short. She should have kept it the way it was when it was past her shoulders. She looked nicer then.

"Now, I know you're all going to hate me for doing this," she begins her lecture, "but I want to give you this writing exercise that I hope is going to improve more of your skills, especially with your exams coming up soon. I want to be able to help you so you can get the best grade possible since these essays aren't going to be so easy."

A couple of students groan about doing the assignment. I just shrug my shoulders, not giving a damn about it, and carried on with my drawing.

"Oh, come on, Mrs Callea," Simon complains. "Can't you give us a break? It has been a month since we got back to school. Why do you have to give us another assignment? We already have other assignments for other classes."