Ocean's Storm

Chapter Eight

             "Miss. Hilton, you're actually early for my class!" Mr. Santiago looks from me to the clock and back again, incredulously. "The world must be ending sooner than expected." He rubs the back of his neck and sits down on the edge of his desk.

               "I'm surprised that desk hasn't broken yet," I mutter lowly to the two boys, as we take our seats up at the front of the class.

                "Francesca, be nice," Carpenter nudges me with his arm slightly and glances sideways at me.

              "I am just saying there is no way that desk is sturdy. This school is prehistoric and Bridget's mom runs the show. Who knows what they are really up to," slouching back in my seat, I begin to doodle on the side of my desk with a random pen I had just discovered on the ground beside me.

              "Francesca," Carpenter snatches the pen out of my hand along with the cap. I watch as he snaps the cap back onto the pen and passes it back behind him to Jake- all the while keeping his eyes on me. "Graffiti is not the way to go about life. I don't care whether or not you are good at drawing; I would hate for you to get into any trouble."

               "A little late for the graffiti lecture," stifling a yawn, I reply. The mention of graffiti makes me remember that Reggie is in the class too, but I know he hasn't arrived yet.

               Carpenter opens his mouth to reply (no doubt to inquire more about what I am talking about), but the bell gloriously rings announcing the start of the class period. He shuts his mouth again and glares up at the intercom.

               "All right, class has officially started! So, everyone put their phones away, shut your traps, and try not to fall asleep," Mr. Santiago says from his position on the edge of his desk. He reaches over to the white piece of paper sitting right beside him on the desk and picks it up. "We will officially kick off Economics with Supply and Demand. Can anyone tell me what they know about Supply and Demand?"

              Without thinking too much about the next rumor that will start, my hand shoots up in the air.

              Mr. Santiago's eyes land on me with a weary look in them, and he seems to be preparing himself mentally for an off-topic remark. "Yes, Miss. Hilton?"

                "The relationship between the two is inverse. If you were to sell us all ice cream-"

                 "I am lactose intolerant, so that really won't be a problem," Aliana interjects from somewhere in the row behind me.

                 "No one asked," twisting around in my seat to look her directly in the eyes, I state.

                 "Please finish what you were about to say, Miss Hilton. Miss. Zaidan, please remain quiet and respectful when another student is talking." Mr. Santiago says sternly.

                  "Sorry, but I forgot what I was going to say," turning back to the front of the class with a serious face, I reply. "My train of thought just left the station and is currently on its way to anywhere but the point."

                   "All righty," he moves his attention away from me and scans the room. His eyes focus on something in the back of the class. "Mr. Benoist, can you please tell me what you know about supply and demand?"

                As if this was some planned out stage direction, everyone turns in their seat to look at the guy. The Benoist dude looks up at Mr. Santiago with a startled expression on his face, and he subtly tries to turn his phone off.