Cliche (Lams)

Chapter Eight

Alexander Pov
       I fiddled with my pencil while I felt eyes staring in the back of it my skull. I decided not to turn around. I was in math, the teacher didn't make me do that shit where you stand up and talk about yourself, which I was quite thankful for. Laf wasn't in my class, neither was any of his friends. Or more specifically, John wasn't in this class. He's...awesome.

"Mr. Hamilton, do you have the answer?" The teacher said, gesturing towards the board.

"Uh...I-Erm..." I muttered, trying to make sense of what was on the board. I heard snickering behind me.

"W-Well if 3x-y=12 the value of 8x/2y would be...2 to the power of...12?"

The snickering abruptly stopped and I felt the staring again.

"Thank you Alec. Pay attention next time." I have a slight nod.

I glanced at the clock and quickly realized it was wrong. There was no way it was 7pm.
I'm at school.
In my first period.

A pencil fell on my desk, a note taped onto it. I raised an eyebrow and opened it.

'Teachers pet. Might as call you Peter Parker, huh? Or what was it? Penis Parker? I guess we could call you Alexander Hamilshit. Asshole. 5:30. In the ally on 32 street. I expect you there and don't let anyone come with you or follow you.'

Who did they take me as?
An idiot?
Bitch I ain't going in no fucking ally way! I wrote on the note

'Yeah...no fucking way. (P.S, Peter Parker is the coolest frickin person you could've compared me to. So...thanks.)

I turned around and saw the guy staring into the back of my head. I tossed it on his desk. He read it, I watched his reaction from the corner of my eye. Steam practically came out of his ears.
He looks like a train.
I wonder if his name is Thomas.
That'd be ironic.
Thomas the train.
A guy named Thomas who looks like a train.
That'd be pretty funny.

The bell rang. I made sure that I walked out after the guy did so I wouldn't run into him.

"Hey Alec!" John called. I turned around.

"Yo John!" I called back, smiling.

"So, who do you have next?" He asked, walking next to me.

"Erm...I believe it's Mr. Adams." I told him.

"Rip bro. He's the fuckin' worst." John said.

Oh...good.

I walked into the class.
"Mr. Hamilton. You're the new student, correct?"

NoOo. I'm the jAniTor.

"You are correct sir." I told him, sitting down next to Herc.

"See that? That's the way you should treat me. With respect." Mr. Adams told his class.

The whole class hates me now. Thanks sir.

"Thank you." He told me.

"Y-you're welcome. Sorry." I mumbled.

"Don't mumble. It makes you seem stupid."

"What?" I spit out. "W-what's that supposed to mean? I mean sorry but come on now. D-don't say that. Don't say I'm stupid because that would make you seem stupid." I growled.

"And why would that make me seem stupid?" He  asked.

"Because I'm 15 in a senior AP class. So watch who you call stupid." I snapped, equally venomous.

He slammed his fist on the table. I didn't even flinch. The whole class held there breath. You could only hear Mr. Adams angry breaths and you could practically hear my cocky smirk.

"You must think you're sooo smart, huh? You're not even as smart as a god dang rock." He growled.

"Well if I'm that stupid then my tests and GPA will bring down this classes average and the superintendent will have a talk with you and you'll most likely get fired. Mainly because you can't teach your students." I hissed.

I saw out of the corner of my eye someone recording this.
Thank god someone in here has half a brain.
Other than me, of course. But then again, I'm a worthless piece of shit that deserves to die.

Happy thoughts.

I heard the door open and a kid say, "Mr. Adams? Mr. Washington wants to know if we could use the chrome ca- holy moly what's going on in here?"

I quickly realized that kid was John.