I head straight inside the building once I enter the school grounds. Students see me coming and quickly move out of the way before I tell them off for not moving. I head to my locker, which is like in the worst spot in the entire school. It's right near the girls' restrooms. I hate having it there because all I can hear are girls chatting or laughing loudly in the bathroom, and it drives me nuts just hearing them being so happy all the time. I don't see why it's so necessary to be so happy.
I grab my English and German book from the locker. The bell for roll call rings just as close my locker. I push my way through the corridor through the crowded corridor as students make their way to roll call. I sit in the back of the classroom and pull out my sketch book and begin drawing. I don't even know why we need to have roll call. I mean, you just sit in the room for fifteen minutes while you wait for the teacher to mark off your name and to read out the daily announcements.
I ignore everyone around me, sketching an outline of a picture I had in my mind. I have sketched my dad's face so many times over the last six years that I didn't even have to look at a photo of him. I could sketch him from memory. I never allow anyone to see what I draw, especially my sister. No one would ever understand why I constantly drew pictures of my dad. It's just my way of keeping my memory of him alive since he walked out on my mum, Lindsay and me almost six years ago.
I was glad once the bell rings for first period. I gather up my things and hurry out of the classroom, heading straight to English.
I'm the first person to enter the room, and I take my usual spot in the front seat. Because of the arguments my sister and I always get into during class, Mrs Callea likes us sitting at the front so she can keep a close eye on us. I hate sitting at the front and prefer to sit in the back where I can concentrate on my drawings and half listen to whatever the teacher tells us to do.
I continue sketching in my book as the rest of the class arrives into the classroom. I soon hear my sister walking into the room with Simon. I look up from my book for a moment as I turn to see her kissing him. I roll my eyes, and turn back to my book.
"Lindsay, Simon, do you mind not doing that in my classroom thank you," Mrs Callea says as she walks into the classroom and walks to the front, putting her things for the lesson on her desk.
Lindsay takes a seat near me, leaving a gap in between us. Simon used to sit with us, but our teacher made him sit in the back so he was away from my sister. The two of them never stopped talking and were always interrupting the lesson.
Mrs Callea is not a bad teacher, but one of the things I really hate about her is when she gives us so many assignments at once. She seems to love giving us so many assignments. Same with every other teacher in this school, especially because we were in our final year of high school, and assignments seem to pop up everywhere one after another once you completely one of them. We have only just returned to school a month ago, and the work just keep piling up like we have nothing better to do with our lives. Soon we will be having our exams at the end of March.
Mrs Callea stands at the front of the classroom, ready to begin the lesson. She has gotten a haircut over the weekend and her strawberry blonde hair is now level with her ear. I think the hairstyle looks ridiculous on her. It is way too short. She should have kept it the way it was when it was past her shoulders. She looked nicer then.
"Now, I know you're all going to hate me for doing this," she begins her lecture, "but I want to give you this writing exercise that I hope is going to improve more of your skills, especially with your exams coming up soon. I want to be able to help you so you can get the best grade possible since these essays aren't going to be so easy."
A couple of students groan about doing the assignment. I just shrug my shoulders, not giving a damn about it, and carried on with my drawing.
"Oh, come on, Mrs Callea," Simon complains. "Can't you give us a break? It has been a month since we got back to school. Why do you have to give us another assignment? We already have other assignments for other classes."
"You know, Simon, I don't know why you're complaining. You never did the last assignment, which you still have to complete for me. And when I do give out this one, I expect you to do it without any excuses about why you can't complete it. You don't want to be failing this class, do you? I don't exactly care if you have assessments for other classes, or other commitments. You're in my class right now, and I want you to complete the work I provide for you."
The class laughs at our teachers comment. I sigh, getting bored with whatever Mrs Callea was talking about. Sometimes I wish it was just me in the classroom so I don't have to worry about the people around me. Maybe I should talk Mum into allowing me to be home schooled for the rest of the year. At least I don't have to worry about anyone interrupting the lesson. I will be able to concentrate on my work better.
"For the next few weeks I'm going to be getting you to write different exercises to help you improve your skills. I'm going to give you different areas of writing so you can get used to them all. It will help you in exams that are coming up soon. I'm going to start you off with some essay writing."
The class groans. Ignoring everyone, I continue to draw in my sketch book. I really did not want to listen anymore.
Mrs Callea continues on explaining what she wanted us to write. She tells us about the importance of writing. I didn't even care about writing. I just wanted to draw right now. She explained what she wanted us to write the essay on. She wanted us to express our feelings through our words and saying what our inner thoughts were on paper. I think it's unnecessary for us to even write that. Just the other day she gave us a practice essay on a poem that we had to analyse, which is going to be a part of the exam. I guess we all did such a lousy job at it that she has to give us something else to write about.
Essays are stupid.
I think for a moment of what I could write my essay on. Hate. I could write about what I hate. Hate is a feeling, isn't it?
I raise my hand.
Mrs Callea looks my way, and I can see she is trying to restrain from rolling her eyes. She sometimes doesn't like it when I ask or give any negative comments on anything that she says during the class, depending on what she is discussing with us. "Yes, Alex?"
"Can I write what I hate?" I ask, putting down my hand.
Mrs Callea opens her mouth to answer my sister's question when the door suddenly opens and then closes. Everyone turns in their seats towards the door. I look too, rolling my eyes when I see Nathan Bridges with his bag over his shoulder, hurrying into the room. He just had to walk in when Mrs Callea was going to answer my question. He walks over to Lindsay and me, taking a seat in between us. Why does he always have to sit in between us every lesson? Is this Mrs Callea's way of keeping my sister and me separated during class?
"It's good to have you finally join us, Mr Bridges," Mrs Callea says. "I'm just explaining to the class about your new assessment that I want you to do. So, what is your excuse for being late this time? Do you have a late note?" Nathan has been late for class a couple days ago. This is his second time for being late.
"I'm so sorry," he apologises. He pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to her. She takes it, reading it. "I had troubled getting here this morning. My next door neighbour threw a party last night. I couldn't get to sleep until two o'clock. I overslept and then I found out that someone from the party had put all four tyres down on my car. I had no time to catch public transport, so my dad drove me here. We got caught in traffic along the way."
"Okay. Please make sure you come early next time."
Nathan answers okay. He unzips his bag to take out the equipment he needed for the lesson. He glances my sister's way. Lindsay gives him a little wave as well as a flirty smile. Not sure if he returned the smile, he probably did. He gives her a wave, and then places his bag on the floor beside his feet. I roll my eyes. Lindsay has nothing better to do rather than flirt with every guy she comes across to, especially when her boyfriend is sitting in the back, probably can see that she is flirting with someone else.
"Anyway, as I was saying -" Mrs Callea continues, but I interrupted her because I knew whatever she was going to say she wouldn't answer my question. She was going to explain it all over again for Nathan, and I do not want to hear her repeat it until she answered my question.
"Hello, Mrs Callea?" I say rudely without raising my hand. "Aren't you going to answer my question? Can I write about how I hate everything?"
"Alex, please don't interrupt me like that. I was just about to answer your question. Yes, if that's what you want to write about, then do it. Tell me your inner thoughts on why you hate everything."
"Alex, is that all you ever think about? You just can't hate everything. It's impossible. You have to like something."
I turn to my sister, throwing her a dirty look. Lindsay does not know when to keep her mouth close or when to stop sticking her nose in other people's business. "Was I talking to you?"
"No, but I'm pretty sure everyone is sick of you complaining about everything that you hate. No one cares, Alex. Just get over yourself."
"Oh, shut up and mind your own business, Lindsay."
Mrs Callea says something to us, but neither of us listened to her.
"I don't need to mind my own business," Lindsay says.
"Yeah, you do. It's none of your concern to what I hate."
"You're so pathetic!"
I narrow my eyes at her. I lean forward on Nathan's desk, who is just sitting there helplessly, not sure what to even do with us leaning all over him. "Say that again."
Lindsay smirks. She leans closer to me until her face almost touches mine. "You're pathetic."
I grab my sister's hair that is hanging loose around her shoulders, pulling hard on it. Lindsay screams like I had just ripped the roots right out on top of her head. Nathan tries to stop us, but he only gets knock in the mouth by my elbow. Lindsay tries to pull my hands away from her hair, but I don't dare to remove my hands. It only makes me pull harder.
Mrs Callea tries to stop us, even though our classmates wanted us to continue with the fight, egging us on. I let go of my sister for a second to push my teacher away. I don't need her to get in between us. Lindsay doesn't waste any time and climbs onto the table and jumps onto me. I tumble backwards, knocking myself into the tables behind me. The edges of the tables dig into my lower back, causing sharp pain to shot up.
Before someone gets hurt, Mrs Callea successfully steps in to break up the fight. I'm about to pounce on my sister again, wanting to continue with the fight, but Mrs Callea asks someone to hold me back. I'm not sure who the person is, but they hold onto both of my arms. I didn't like the idea of them touching me, so I punch them in their ribs with one of my elbows. They yelp out in pain and when I turn to see who had grabbed me, I see its Michael Hayworth, the school captain.
Our teacher scolds us at our behaviour, telling us that she would not tolerate it in her class. She then tells me to move to the back of the classroom away from my sister. I frown at my teacher. I wanted to scream or throw something at someone to release my anger. Why does Lindsay always get away with everything, and I'm the one people always seems to push away?
"You're moving me?" I protest. "Why don't you move, Lindsay? She is the one who started it!"
"Alex, please," Mrs Callea answers calmly. "I don't want to hear your excuses, so just move and don't make another sound for the rest of the lesson."
I glance at my sister. She is smirking, like she planned this all along just to get me into trouble. I wanted to do something to wipe the smile off her face, but I can't do it without causing any more trouble.
Without saying anything, I pick up my things, grabbing my things that have been knocked off the table. Mrs Callea gets everyone to settle back down so she could continue on with the rest of the class. I can feel someone's eyes burning into me. I glance over at the person and just as I did, I see Nathan glancing away, looking down at his book and pretend to take notes. What is he staring at?
I storm across the room, ignoring any of the looks people were giving me. I drop my books on the table beside the window with a loud bang, my pencil rattling on the table. I drop my bag on the side of the table and then flop myself down, not making any eye contact with any of my classmates.
I look up to see Mrs Callea walking over to her desk, explaining something about the assessment to the class, picking up a pile of papers from her desk that has the information about the assessment she wants us to do.
Lindsay looks my way, giving me a cocky smile and a small wave. I flip my middle finger up at her, then turn away to open up my English book and wrote a list of things that I hated, wondering what I could write about for the essay.