Ch.1: A Splash of Slushy (2/4)

"Me?" I said my voice shaky and nervous.
"Yes, now Mr. St. John!" She said her voice very firm, "You were involved with this as well."
I stared at my paper and the unfinished sentence that I had. I wasn't done yet! Why did I have to turn my paper in? Why?! I looked at her and she put her hand out.
I stood up, quickly scribbling my name and date on my paper so as not to lose any further points. I put it on the palm of her hand and, in front of me; she crumbled it up into a ball and threw it the waste basket by her desk.
I could've been shot by a bullet or had a stroke but I stared at her and then the trash bin. Rage and frustration rose up in me.
"You boys will be receiving zeros for the days test, work, and participation grade, and I will be emailing your parents." She said in a calm voice. She then gave a big smile at me and hatred and confusion was pulsating through my body.
I could've hit something, no; I could've beaten the crap out of the jocks. However, I stood there, frozen, just staring at her with a shocked, blank face. “You can go back to your seat now St. John.” Ms. Davidson whispered to me.
I walked back to my desk, crushed and empty. I could hear the jocks giggling again and my blood was running hot, running down my neck slowly. The kid who sat next to me tossed a note and a bandage onto my desk not glancing at me. I took it, not really wanting to read it, opening it, nearly ripping it, and read it:
"Sorry about what just happened. You didn't deserve that crap. Talk to the teacher after class, I hope she will understand and give your paper a [good] grade. Those brainless nimrods, they deserved to be punished. Not you.”
Chris
This didn't make me feel any better, but a piece of my mind was thanking Chris for the note of encouragement and the bandage. I wiped the blood from my neck and quickly put the bandage upon the punctured spot. I looked down at my desk, waiting to see if anything would happen. Get another piece of paper and start writing you fool! Stop wasting precious time! I swung myself over to my bag and dug for a scrap piece of paper. Unlike my mind, which was clear and organized, my bag was a disaster. I grabbed a science paper, found a blank side, and started rewriting. There is a pile of papers by the pencil sharpener you brainless moron! Don't use a science paper!
I got up smoothly and took fast steps over to the stack of notebook papers, grabbed at least twenty or thirty pieces of paper and rushed back to my desk. Thinking and remembering what I had just written minutes ago. Something about leaves whispering to one another and lying underneath a tree?
It just wasn't coming to me, I had to start over.
I starred around the room, looking for anything to get my brain going, but all I could feel was my pulse pounding, sweat forming on my forehead, anger and fear, and the jocks staring at me. I took a deep breath and then looked around the room. I stopped and staring at Ashley Longview. My heart seemed to beat faster as I looked at her long, sandy hair, her slightly tan skin and her green, sea green eyes.
“Ten minutes left in here." Mrs. Davidson sung aloud.
It then clicked in my mind. I unclenched my teeth and began to write quickly.
(You can see open on the last page.)
I grimaced, not really sure how good this would go with Mrs. Davidson. Last second work didn't come to well to me, and this felt very sloppy. Better than a zero, she has to except it; I worked on it and tried.
“Two minutes!" she announced enthusiastically
I looked over at Mrs. Davidson and at the clock. At least a minute was left and I felt like crap sitting there with a quick, off the top of my head poem and a perfectly, okay one in the garbage bin with a good start off sentence...to my own opinion.
A kid behind me started counting down from twenty; I took in a deep breath, and started packing some of my materials away.
The bell rang with a dull, electrical sound and all the jocks shot out of their desk and hurried out the door, talking animatedly to each other. I stood up with Chris patting my back and I walked over to Ms. Davidson. "Umm, Ms. Davidson, why did you throw my paper away?" I asked, my voice slowly becoming firmer. She looked up at me and smiled a big smile. My mind was shouting hundreds of questions and anger was coating those questions....But she answered the first question that was in my mind.
“Seth, do you think I would throw your paper away?"
"No. But I saw-"
She cut me off, "You saw me throw Mr. Chadwick's paper. Yours is right here." She raised the paper from her desk. I looked at her with surprise and wonder. "You looked moody and tired so I thought to give you a wake-up call. Plus, I am amazed at your poetry." she said, snatching my paper in my hand, reading it.
"But you yelled at me and...Mrs. Davidson...why? Do you know how pissed I was? I mean. Don't ever do that! Please. Do what Mr. Storm does...throw a textbook at me or at least drop it on me." I said, bewildered and still a bit angry.