Pop Quizzes, Glass Shoes, and the New Kid

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Chapter 1

I should've studied, I thought regretfully, as I clicked my pen repeatedly. But then again, it was a pop quiz. Who the hell devised pop quizzes anyway? It is an excessive, unjust tool used to deprive children of perfect grades or further worsen another's and increase the already strenuous school work. In all honesty, I would have studied if we were advised to. What is the point of testing students something they did not know and was not expected to know? Realizing my paper was blank, I shook my head, throwing my previous thoughts and ending my one-sided debate regarding pop quizzes, and focused on the assignment under my hand.

Match each date to the respective event.

In my opinion, this is stupid. Why do we need to memorize dates? I mean, I am not going to use them in my future profession. No job actually requires the employees to know when the Council of Trent occurred, except a history teacher, maybe. As much as I appreciate the past and how everything came to be the way it is today, I can't help disliking History. It has always been my least favorite subject and also my worst.

My eyes were glued to the paper, but my mind continues spitting meaningless rants about how much I did not like this class or this test. I was practically dissing the subject. I know it doesn't deserve all this hate, but I'm in a crappy mood. And I think the time of the month is coming.

My paper was half answered, because I already knew some of them. Another reason why I loathed this quiz was because it could've been an easy A if I studied. But I didn't, because I'm stupid and I lack initiative sometimes, especially with this particular class. I didn't study whatsoever for this test. I just hastily skimmed the book before the papers were passed out and basically used prior knowledge. I am winging this and I rarely "wing" things. I like being prepared.

"Mrs. Daniels, last warning," Ms. Gray advised sternly, glaring me with her dark, brown eyes, which appeared dull thanks to her outdated and partially broken glasses.

There's another reason why I hate the subject so much: the teacher. Ms. Gray is actually attractive, but she presents herself as a severe, old woman who can't keep her mouth shut. Looks can fool you. When she came, many of us were actually excited about her, because she was young and we thought she could easily relate to us. After she opened her mouth, people started to question their expectations. The problem with Ms. Gray is that she unnecessarily yells so much and gives prolonged lectures when she scolds us about something so trivial. Eventually, many students developed a different perspective of her. Now, she is kind of the most hated teacher in this school.

"Daniels," she exclaimed, her voice sharper than before.

What am I even doing wrong, I asked myself.

I turned to my friend Jackie, who was looking at me with widened eyes. Her blue eyes flickered down to the pen on my hand, which was clicking this entire time. I abruptly stopped, realizing Ms. Gray was talking about my writing tool. Most people find the sound of pen clicks infuriating, but I found it strangely soothing.

A yawn escaped my mouth as I tried visualizing a timeline and approximating the date by using other events I was already familiar with. Using the process of elimination technique, I easily figured out which event and date are not relevant to each other, which simplified this entire quiz for me. As soon as I had a complete understanding of my timeline and was sure of my answers, my hand guided my pen, stroking the tip against the paper, but the ink never appeared. Then, I noticed it was clicked in. Feeling utterly stupid, I clicked my pen once more so I can finally finish.

I heard a frustrated grunt. "Detention, Ms. Daniels," Ms. Grey exclaimed, causing me to flinch to the sound of my name. I found her eyes glowering at me as I looked up at her, wondering if she was joking.

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