My Not So Perfect Life

||Chapter 4||

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"Good Evening Class" Mrs. Saye rests her hands against the desk as she stands before the class. "Tod-"

The creeping sound of the door opening interrupts her sentence. Mrs. Saye is not big on late students especially when they interrupt her teaching time.

Everyone's head looks in the direction of the door and unsurprisingly, Tanner stands rubbing his neck. He glances at the class then at Mrs. Saye. "Sorry."

"You are late again." She folds her arms across her chest, glaring. "Sorry doesn't work for a fifth late." A few people laugh but ends when Mrs. Saye's glare is directed at the class instead of Tanner. She returns her glare back to Tanner once the class is quiet, "Since you think you can be late to my class and not have to face consequences, you can sit right in front of my desk. The empty seat by Peyton is not occupied. You can sit there for the rest of the year."

I look up from doodling in my notebook to see Tanner heading straight to the unoccupied seat beside me. This is more like punishment to me than Tanner.

Out of all the people she could've assigned next to me, she chose Tanner.

"Well, I guess I'm stuck with you, Peyton." Greeted Tanner emphasizing my name as he sat in his new seat.

I ignore him, focusing my attention on the teacher. I don't need distractions that will prevent me from getting out of this hell. College is my one-way ticket out of here.

I couldn't help but let out a yawn as Ms. Saye lectures on and on about the culture of Anglo-Saxons. World English Literature is something I am not very fond of. Ms. Saye's raises a brow at my yawn, placing a hand on her hip. I crouch in my seat, embarrassed that I had been caught.

So my yawn gets her attention but talking tom over here doesn't? Wow...

Tanner has been whispering and chatting with everyone near him. No matter where he is seated, he will find a way to talk to whoever is near him.

"Okay, class based on what I just went over about the culture," Miss. Saye looks around the class meeting eyes with everyone. "I want you to find evidence from Beowulf that depicts the cultural traits of the Anglo-Saxons and write it down in your notes." She picks up the small timer that resides on her desk, "I will give you twenty minutes. You may begin."

I open my notebook to a blank sheet. I am about to open the book when I feel a continuous poking in my side. I snap my head at the culprit with my eyes narrowed. "Can I help you?"

"Um, do you have a pencil I can borrow? Mine just ran out of the lead." Asked the talking tom next to me.

At first, I hesitated to give him a pencil but the nicer side of me won the battle. I reach into my pouch, grabbing a pencil already sharpened. As I handed it to him, his eyes went to the faded bruises on my wrist. I quickly pulled the sleeves of my hoodie down to cover the marks that color my skin.