Effects of the Substitute
Those dumb white seagulls cruise past the smudgy classroom window. What are they doing here?
Go away. I warn, glaring enviously at their sleek winged figures. Go somewhere warm and sunny and beachy.
The classroom is dark, as someone behind me murmured that the teacher doesn’t believe in using up electricity during the day time. Mud also speckles the ugly tan tiles. I had to bike to school today through the rain. That stupid red bike.
Kids are chatting. Some in pairs, some sitting three together at a desk. I am one of the loners. There are five of us loners, and we are coincidentally all sitting to the front of the classroom while the chatters crowd at the back. I am the only one out of five that doesn’t have ear buds in. I guess it’s their escape, their subtle way of saying, “See?
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