Math is the only class I do not look forward to, and it is not even math I don't like: it is Dustin Martinez. He gets more obnoxious as the semester goes on. Since we are both on Varsity of our respective sports, we spend Friday nights in the same general area, and for whatever reason, Dustin makes picking on the Varsity freshmen cheerleaders his primary objective. He throws footballs at us when we practice outside, he makes sure to run extra hard through the banner and collide with us, little things like that. In class, he makes rude comments under his breath. Mrs. Emens tries her best to stay on him, but she does not always hear him, and I moved seats twice to get away from him.
On the top of my test from the previous Friday over middle school skills, Mrs. Emens wrote, "I think you could probably do fine in Advanced Math if you're interested."
Dustin is headed for the pencil sharpener and snatches the test from me, reads Mrs. Emens's note and the 100% written at the top of the test, and throws the test back on my desk, disgusted. "Know it all," he sneers.
I refuse to look at him, to acknowledge that he exists, but that only makes him madder. On his way back to his seat he knocks my expensive graphing calculator off the corner of my desk and onto the floor. That does it; I paid for that thing myself with my Christmas and birthday money.
"Hey! Watch what you're doing!"
"Don't tell me what to do!" Dustin bites back.
"Both of you, shut it!" Mrs. Emens snaps as she is setting up the overhead projector.
I sink lower in the seat. I have not done anything more than stand up for myself. Is there really no justice in this situation? Time to make some of my own.
YOU ARE READING
Forget Green Gables
Teen FictionBeing a high school freshman is hard enough, but what is a girl to do when her own mother has become venomous, her twin brother rockets to the forefront of high school popularity, and no amount of styling products will keep her hair tamed? As she m...
