Chapter 3: I'm a Rebel
There are several reasons why school seriously sucks and detention is one of them. I mean the amount of detentions I have received for no apparent reason is horrendous. As if the hours already spent in school aren't enough, they want us to spend an extra hour in the dump. Now that my rant about detentions is finished, I should probably explain why I'm sitting in detention, drawing chickens on my hand.
So lunch break had just finished and I was sitting in my last period, next to Sam. My obese maths teacher that everyone likes to mock walked in with mustard on his chin. For the first five minutes into class, no one bothered to tell him about the mustard and instead sat there laughing. I decided to put the poor guy out of his misery as I was fantastic student who did the right thing.
I raised my hand. "Err… Mr Harris?" he stopped talking and looked at me. "You have a bit of mustard on your chin." I could have stopped there but when he tried to wipe it off, I said without thinking, "No, your other chin."
And that's how I found myself wasting yet another hour in detention, listening to the loud snoring of the supervisor. That's what I got for trying to help a teacher out. Sam couldn't stop laughing at me through out the rest of class and I was actually glad I didn't have to ride home with him today. The boy loves to mock.
I was in the middle of drawing the beak for my third chicken when a deep voice interrupted me. "Do you live on a farm or something?"
"No." I didn't bother looking up and continued to scribble on my hand.
I heard him get into the seat beside me. "Then what's with all the chickens?" I glanced to the left of me and took in the guy's appearance. He was sort of cute with his brown curls and chocolate coloured eyes. He was leaning back on his chair with a smile on his face.
I looked back down at my chickens and then back at him. "Well you see, it's always been a dream of mine to work at KFC," I said flatly. The guy wasn't familiar so I assumed he was new guy.
"You're funny," he said with a laugh. "My name's Adam."
"That's nice." I knew he expected me to give him my name but I was in too much of a bad mood to do so.
There was a long pause, and I thought he finally gave up trying to make conversation. "Can I have your name?" Ornot.
"Why? I thought you already had a name." I glanced at the clock. Only fifty five minutes, till I'm free. HOORAY.
"Wow, you really don't like me?" he said with a smirk.
I sighed. "Sorry dude, I'm just in a pissy mood." I slumped down on to the table and turned my head to the side and looked at him. "I hate detentions."
"It's my first day here and I've already earned myself a detention." This guy must be druggie or something. Who get's a detention on their first day?
"Did you get caught dealing heroin?" I asked bluntly.
He laughed and shook his head. "I don't do drugs. Do you?"
"Yes," I replied, causing him to frown. "I'm addicted to coffee." His frown turned back into a smile and he breathed a sigh of relief. I could not live without drinking a cup of Coffee a day. I just didn't programme without it.
"You scared me there; I thought I had no chance with you."
I scoffed. "You still don't." It wasn't as if I didn't date. I just didn't date very often as most of the guys were out for only one thing. TO STEAL MY SOCKS! That has actually happened to me before. When I was fifteen I broke up with a guy and the next day, SHEZAM! My favourite sponge bob socks had disappeared off the face of earth.
So maybe it was only that guy who was out to steak my socks but the others were out for the other thing; to get in your pants.
Adam unfortunately wasn't a guy who gave up easily. "Come on; let me buy you a coffee sometime." DAMN IT, he knew my weakness. I tried oh so desperately to keep my mouth shut but my lips betrayed me.
"Fine," I snapped. "But let me remind you, I'm only going for the coffee."
He smiled. "Awesome, I'll pick you up at seven?" Did the guy seriously think I was going to give him my address? I only just met him, who could be a crazy serial killer or something.
"I'll meet you at Starbucks at six." He didn't seem to mind that I changed the plans.
"So now can I get your name, pretty girl?" Did he really think calling me pretty was going to make me melt into a pool of mush?