Don't Let it Fool You
The loud, annoying class bell rings. Some exchange student hits me with their Lacoste backpack and I jump up from my nap. I lift up slowly and find the periodic table peeled on to my left cheek. I wipe away my drool and turn to the left to pick up my book bag.
“Mr. Andrews,” I hear from above.
“Oh, Hi Ms. Engle.”
“Second time you fell asleep in my class sir. Third time, and that’s a lunch detention.”
“It won’t happen again,” I say nervously.
I picked up my things and bolted out of the classroom. I sprinted down to the big, red doors that led to the cafeteria. I entered to the smell of week old tuna and hard, dry bread with a hint of grape juice. I cut past annoyed, angry faces and made my way to the front of the line.
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