School Series, Descriptive pieces 1-3

                                                               1

1st period English , my teacher demands silence in the form of silent reading. I open my ancient book, blow the dust off of the prehistoric pages and begin my punishment. The words seem to remove themselves from the dusty pages and run away from my squinted, burning eyes. My mind runs with them, and instead of the red and tan, cold deathtrap of a seat, I was seated at a desk in Hogwarts. Potions seems to be the next class on my schedule and I anxiously wait for the bell to release me from my History of Magic class. Alas, the bell rings, and I excitedly jump up to run to my next class, slamming my knee into the desk in the process, and painfully jolting me awake from my reverie. My teacher stares at me with annoyance radiating off of her entire being. “Quiz Tomorrow.” She says.

                                                               2

Mind wandering while Madame explains the meaning of “grande vitesse” I find my thoughts floating out of 4th Period French and flying to France. How I yearn to live amongst the Parisians, eating macarons, drinking café-au-lait, and smoking a Newport 100, because after all, I am American. I imagine Gaspard Ulliel taking me to the cinema to see a movie starring Juliette Binoche, with Josh Groban singing “Au Jardin De Sans Pourquoi” in the background. Our conversation is interrupted by the sound of an angry evil woman. “Tarah, what did I just say? Repetez sil-vous-plait.” Shit

                                                               3

Last period Creative Writing and my mind has officially detached itself from my head and gone AWOL. I stare at the blank page in my journal, without a clue as to what I’m doing in this seat, in this class, at this moment. I only think of the things that await me when I return home. A cup of Earl Grey, My blanket and pillow, 6 hours of Rob Dyrdek on my DVR, and a pile of homework That I wont touch. The bell rings, I close my journal and run for the door. My mind has returned and it is screaming “Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty we are free at last!” I pull on my sweater and slam my locker shut. As I turn to leave I face a monster, ugly, and mean. My warden stops me with a joyful smile on her face. “Tarah, Welcome to detention.”