Reverse Psychology

17: It's okay to be weak.

How many languages do you speak?
Me:0. I recently started learning English and it hasn't proved futile. I won't give up....yet. I've been contemplating for a while now...lol...just kidding. Enjoy the chapter. I don't know if it's exactly what I promised.

BUTCH
I wheeled around the corner, up the stairs and three classes down to the left. I should have done this very pattern ten minutes ago but I was too imersed in flirting with a redhead. I looked away from my watch and frowned, I didn't beat my record. I had a track record of thirty minutes to sometimes not showing up at all and I was planning on skipping that morning but something about it just seemed boring, reiterate. I don't like repetition.

I may come off as an incorrigible and arrogant teenager to most but I actually have a lot of things about school I cared about. French just wasn't one of them.

I pushed open the brown door and all heads within the threshold momentarily turned to me. Their eyes filled with curiosity reverted back to board with a disappointed look while Miss Arquette, the substitute, a week old, left her gaze on me.

I flashed her a grin to taunt her and also come off as innocent and regretful but it didn't cut through the hard exterior she was portraying. Her frown instead deepened, from a level one 'i'm tired please don't stress me' to a level ten 'you're one of those hormonal students that think being arrogant is really funny and will end up working at Starbucks'. First of all, the preconception is a pretty high goal. If I even become someone with a job, that's a big accomplishment. I would be honored if I could work at Starbucks.

"Glad you could make it Mr. Utonium." Miss Arquette greeted, crossing her arms and a condescending smile on her face.

Remind me again why teachers acted so high and mighty? Was it because of the age difference? Was it because they felt unaccomplished in life? The nicest teachers love teaching.
Can't teachers be perversely not sanctimonious?

"Miss Arquette." My grin went from wide lips to a slight pout, "you know I'm still new. I get lost every now and then." I replied in perfect french. Her hardness faltered and slowly her hands dropped.

She appeared shocked and pleased, so pleased she continued the conversation in french. "Oh really?" A smirk on her face grew as I expected. Every teacher loves a smart student and I, Butch Utonium, am not smart but I speak French.

"I would never lie to you," I said courteously. I caught a few eye rolls and scoffs from the corner of my eye. Snitches. Good thing no one is brave enough to speak in french. But that boy, Mitch Mitchelson is unpredictable. He sat at the back with a purple beret sat on his jet black hair which I have tried multiple times to convince him of it's ugliness. 'you look like Oliver twist' I would say and he would reply, 'you have no taste'. The dude has a girlfriend so I never win in that argument. "Can you let this slide just this once?"

"You're still a growing child so okay. Don't be late next time."

I grinned, a response to her mercy. "Yes ma'am."

She was definitely already fond of me. Even if I'm the type easily hated by teachers, I'm also very easily likeable.

I was never able to get out of trouble with Mr Allaire like I did with her. From what I heard, he is a slut and he only lets the girls, 18 and above ever go scot-free, and when he first started teaching, he didn't do introductions by names, instead he asked for ages just to know who is legally able to be preyed on.