Eggcorn

Chapter Three | The Truth in a Horoscope

The reason math is so reasonable, is because there's only one answer.

It's simply that. One answer. That's it. With most other subjects however, really, anything you are taught is in a sense--debatable.

For example, let's say you're sitting in English class, reading a short story assigned to you. The story is about a merchant, who is crossing through the woods at night, to get from one village to the other, on his loyal pet dragon.

On the way, our merchant decides that he is hungry, and takes out a nice, juicy beef burger to eat. It's the only food he has left. That's when the dragon suddenly sees that the merchant is eating a burger--but hasn't offered him any.

So the loyal pet dragon and the merchant get into a fight over who gets to eat the burger. They end up quarrelling for so long, they forget about the burger--which they had placed safety under a tree--and continue bickering as though they have all the time in the world.

Next thing you know, an imp comes by and steals the burger. So, in the end, neither the merchant nor his loyal pet dragon get to eat the nice, juicy beef burger.

So what would the moral of this story be? Always share your food with your pet dragon if it's the last thing you have? Or, would it be to never leave your burger under a tree, so that an imp may take it away?

Either way, you can debate about it. But in math, two plus two--no matter how many times you try and debate--will always equal; four.

Now if only life was that simple. And no, I don't care about the fact that it would be less fun, so don't even get me started.

That's the only thing I had been thinking about before going to bed yesterday. I laid in bed, unable to sleep, tossing and turning, until eventually tiring myself out.

Now, as I drag my groggy self out from beneath the comforts of my blanket, I'm groaning and regretting every life decision leading up to this point.

I hadn't been this scared about the first day entering high school, because frankly, I didn't care whether I managed to socially fit in or not. I don't really care about that now either, but the only thing that's making me want to throw up this fine morning, is the fact that I might end up bumping into the Blonde One.

Mr. I'm-not-surprised-if-he's-the-devil-himself.

It's grade eleven, and I know that with only two years of high school left, I shouldn't give too much of a thought about making friends or not, but even to me--making good memories is key.

People say that high school will turn out to be the best four years of your life, and so far, I haven't had even the tiniest droplet of taste for that. Academically, yes, I was achieving good things. But I guess, if you want to strengthen your academic achievements, you're gonna have to give up your social ones. In some cases at least.

After coming out of the bathroom, saddened by the fact that I had dark circles under my eyes, I slipped on my glasses and headed towards my window.

I had to drag my baggy pjs under my feet, and nearly tripped over a few books strewn out across the carpet floor. I had to remember to pick those up later.

Usually, my room wasn't this messy. But yesterday night, after Cam had left, I began stressing out and indulging myself in as many books as I could cover in the few hours I had before bedtime.

I pull the blinds halfway, immediately needing to shield my eyes from the blinding sunlight of 7 a.m.

I had also managed to step backwards and trip over the books on the floor. Getting up, with my behind in immense pain, I picked the books up and shoved them into my short bookshelf.