It Started With Lunch // Septiplier (complete)

Part One

   (A/n: my 2nd septiplier book!)

    It was a cool, quiet day as I woke up that morning. The sun was shining, and leaves were slowly drifting down from the treetops. I stretched and leaned back on the tree trunk behind me as I waited patiently for the bus. It was the first day of 11th grade, and I wasn’t sure I was ready. I had skipped the 10th grade, so I was being sent straight into high school and I didn’t know a thing about it. What if I forgot my locker combination? What if I lost my schedule? What if everyone bullied me?

        A million worries flew through my mind. There was so many things that could go wrong; so few that could go exactly right. Was I even wearing the right clothes? I looked at my black shoes, my black skinny jeans, white shirt with the words nope written across it, and my black zip-up hoodie that I had left unzipped. I thought I looked alright. Would they?

        The bus pulled up and I nervously slid on, sitting in seat number 13 (even though its unlucky) and putting my feet up, my back against the window so no one could sit with me.

        Placing my bag under the seat, I pulled my phone out and realized I had a text from my mum:

“You forgot your lunch.”

“Srsly?!”

“Yeah. I don’t have time to drop it off, but you can survive one day, right?”

I groaned. First thing to go wrong, and the day was just beginning.

~~~

        I put my bag in my locker and walked into my first class: Language Arts. That should be easy enough. I was actually pretty good in ELA class. I like grammar and spelling, it wasn’t a tough subject for me.

        It was Maths I needed to worry about.

        You see, me and numbers just didn’t get along. It didn’t help when letters got involved, too. I mean, I struggled learning how to write as a child since I have dyslexia, but when the numbers and letters were all tangled up and dancing around…

        I shook my head, sliding into a seat in the back. Being the first one, I found a way to keep myself busy by pulling out my phone and scrolling through various social medias.

        Once everyone else filed into class, I set my hands on my desk, pencil and notebook in hand, and looked up.

        Where was the teacher?

        Everyone else seemed confused, too. Class had started three minutes ago and he still wasn’t here. Kids started muttering, annoyed at the prospect that they were wasting their precious time ‘learning nothing’.

        Finally he ran in, nodding and apologizing profusely. When we begrudgingly accepted his apology, he suddenly stood, straightened himself, and bluntly asked, “How did my being late make you feel?”

        I raised an eyebrow. We were obviously peeved at his late appearance.

        Someone else hesitantly raised their hand and was called on.

        “It made us feel annoyed.”

        He nodded, “It must be frustrating having someone late all the time.”

        The students nodded, me included.

        “And that’s why I expect none of you to ever be late to class, either. I want you to treat me with the same respect I do, so I expect you to be promptly on time everyday.”