In my next lesson, I couldn't stop thinking of that mysterious boy I'd bumped into. Who was he? Why was he out of lessons? How old was he? WHAT WAS HIS NAME??
All these questions whizzed though my mind. He was tall, muscular and tanned, looking at least fifteen, maybe sixteen. I am fifteen. He didn't appear to have anything wrong with him. Maybe he had learning difficulties or something? I just couldn't get him out of my mind!! Focus Orla, focus! I doubt you'll ever see him again. Try and remember - was he wearing a school uniform or not? I think so. Or am I just imagining it? I don't know!! UGH!!
"Orla Olatni! Are you listening to me? I asked you, what is the square route of 388 divided by 17 plus 7 cubed??" Mrs Henderson, my Maths-Teacher-From-HELL! Oh god. Oh god. Why me? If COURSE I wasn't listening, I was lost in my mind, my own thoughts about Dr Dreamboat <3 I had no idea what the answer to that question was! My maths sucks anyway! I had to find a way if avoiding it.
Try and fake being ill. Make yourself go pale and tell her you don't feel well. She'll excuse you.
"M-miss, please c-can I b-be excused? I think I'm going to be s-sick!" I murmur, pretending to wretch.
"Yes. Go now. I will have no vomit in my classroom!" I stumbled out of the room, my knees twisting in my attempt to escape this hell hole of a classroom. Tottering, I walked down towards Learning Support. I felt nervous. Did I really think he was going to be here? I probably did.
YOU ARE READING
Our Crazy Secret
General FictionOrla has battled with Extreme Hypermobility since she was 3 years old. It affects her life dramatically - she goes to daily physio sessions and can bearly walk, let alone run or take part in any sport. Her joints click and lock in positions they rea...
