Math class + boredom =

As a result of the mind-numbingly boring hour that is my math class, I have taken to writing in my notebook. It started innocently enough... Small notes from the board just to keep me awake. Then, before I knew it, the margins and every bit of free space was filled with small paragraphs and bits of dialogue, twisting and winding about the paper, forming as intricate pattern of plot and detail. It looks kinda cool, actually.... Anyway, here's the transcribed version (Of course, /all/ of this isn't my notebook. I'm continuing here after I type up what I had written):

Tick tick tick

I swear the clock in my math class moves slower than any other clock in this entire school. The teacher must have cast a spell on it. She a bit of a witch anyway--a crazy witch at that. I keep waiting for someone to drop a house on her but the storm never comes. Bummer.

Jimmy's tapping me on my shoulder. I should throw something at him. He convinced me to take this class. Come on, it'll be cake! I told him I was bad at math. I told him I wanted to take the basic course, that he was more suited for advanced math. But my brother had Mrs. Briggs two years ago and he said she's a huge pushover. The old bat can't hear to save her life and she's practically legally blind. Come on! She retired last year; just before we returned in September. It was too late to change schedules.

"Ouch!" hissed Jimmy. "What the heck was that for?"

I picked my eraser up from the side of his desk where it had landed after ricocheting off his face. "For sticking me in this class." With the witch, I wanted to say but decided against it. Dogs have excellent hearing, after all; especially the female variety.

"Oh, it's not that bad. Stop being such a baby, man. Hey--did you get that last problem? She erases too fast."

So that's what he wanted. "Yeah. Here." I passed my notebook over to him while the witch was writing the next problem on the board. Big mistake. Without my notebook, my mind was free to wander. That was never good. Last time I handed over my notebook, I told Jimmy that there were exactly 167 tiles on the ceiling in our history class. I looked up at the ceiling. One.. two... No, no. Not again. I kept hearing something. What was that? Was something about to fall from the ceiling? What the...

Click click I looked over to the seat behind Jimmy. Click click click Theresa was texting away, expertly crouching behind Jimmy to avoid the prying eyes of the witch. I don't think she had a single note on her paper. Click click click It was like listening to machine gun rapid fire. In just two seconds, Theresa had unloaded about four rounds onto her phone. I wonder who she was texting at 10 o'clock in the morning. On a Tuesday, at that. Theresa Smith. Theresa the Texter. Smith the Swift, ever-electronic. God, where the hell was Jimmy with my notebook?

"Thanks, man." Jimmy tossed my notebook onto my desk. "Hey, you forgot to change the sign. Took me forever to figure out what the hell you did to get that answer."

I looked down at my eraser again. No, it wasn't worth it. Besides, I had a problem to fix now. I furiously began scratching into my paper, correcting the mistake Jimmy was so kind as to catch for me. "Five-eighths? Is that what you got? Dude,what?" Jimmy turned to me, his mouth twisted into the usual sly smirk he had on his face before he made some smart-ass comment. But his eyes suddenly widened and he fell silent. "No? But I worked it just like you said. Changed the sign and everything. What the hell--,"

Jimmy quickly tilted his head back.

I knew all too well who was standing beside my desk at that point. I turned and was staring directly into the witch's face. Shit.

"Mr. Johnson..." she said, her icy voice chilling the very air around me. The room had fell silent. Theresa had even stopped texting. I don't know where she had hidden her phone so quickly. I suspected it was tucked under her leg somewhere. She was seated a bit too uncomfortably now. Then again, the witch made me cringe as well.

"Uh... yes ma'am?"

"Is there a problem here? Or is my lesson interrupting you and Mr. Myer's conversation? Terribly sorry. Please, continue." Her eyes narrowed on me.

I gulped, wanting so badly to look at Jimmy for help. But I bet he was just as terrified as I was at the moment. What to do? What to do? "I'm sorry. It won't happen again." The words seemed to fall out my mouth involuntarily. Did I just seriously apologize to the witch? I waited for her to walk away but she continued standing there. I shot a quick glance towards the clock. Of course there was more time left in class! In fact, the minute hand had only managed to move a few degrees since the last time I looked at it. This witch was good.

"James? Are you quite finished? May I continue my lesson now?" There was an audible snicker from the class. No one called Jimmy that. He had convinced all his other teachers to refer to him as Jimmy when calling role and such. Pretty much everyone called Jimmy that. Except the witch. She had her eyes set on him now. I looked over to him, then my eyes shifted toward Theresa again. Her face contorted for half a second before she wiped her face emotionless. Had her phone just vibrated? That made me smirk.

"Oh, please, continue. In fact, could you put number seventy-four on the board? I had trouble with it last night while doing the assignment." Jimmy said.

That cheeky bastard!

The witch raised an eyebrow, waiting for Jimmy to crack under pressure. "Number seventy-four? But, Mr. Myer, the assignment was only to number fifty."

I felt as though I were watching a championship chess match. While I could tell the old witch was reaching for anything that would bring Jimmy down, he looked as though he were just getting started. He hadn't broken a sweat. If I knew my best friend, he had a few more tricks waiting under his sleeves in case this didn't work. Your move, Jimmy.

"Yes ma'am. I know. But I wanted the extra practice, so I went to the end of the lesson." I heard a few gasps from across the room. I don't know which was more astounding, the fact that Jimmy was directly challenging the witch or that he had actually done his homework. Jimmy never did the homework. Math just came to him naturally, he said. Lucky him.

Even the the witch's eyes had widened. "I see... Number seventy-four, then." She turned on her heel and went back to the front of the room. Once she got to her desk, she began flipping through her teacher's manual with such speed I thought she would snatch a page right out of the binding. Once she found the problem, she grabbed her dry erase marker and began writing on the board. Game, set, match.

"Dude, where the hell did that come from? When did you start doing homework?" I said, keeping my voice low as low as I could.

Jimmy had that smirk about his face again. "Psht, I didn't. But someone had to save your ass from detention. Besides, any idiot can pick a problem from the book. I just said the first number that came to mind. You know--Ow! What the hell, man?"

I picked up my eraser again. "Nothing."

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~;.