Thanks to:

Cherryblossom0288. Rowana Silvakisma. pink and purple skies. Persian Kittie. Jezel Blackwind. Maple. Midnight Owl. Toryjames. Sk8terChic.

Thank you for reviewing, and for the constructive criticism, and comments!

This chapter introduces Leigh more, I guess. I wanted to get this out sooner, so I don’t think the quality is that great. Lol. Sorry!

Chapter 2

            Calculus pisses me off. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Who cares about differentiating, integrating, the stupid theorems, and applications to trig?! I don’t. The teacher, scary as he is, doesn’t help. He makes me dislike the class more.

            I growled, cursed, and glared at my calc textbook, and at my homework. My answers aren’t matching up with the answers in the back. Honest to god, when I get this pissed and frustrated, I break pencils. But I was using a pen…and when you break pens, ink leaks out. That would piss me off even more.

            Yeah. Today’s not a good day. And the fact that my mother’s downstairs singing, definitely did not help. I need peace and quiet when I’m frustrated. Ughhh…who does she think she is, an Broadway performer? I got out of my seat and trudged towards my radio/tape player/CD player, and stuck my Linkin Park CD in…and turned the volume up high. Ahh…

            My pictures are falling off my wall. Sorry, my attention span is low. The corners are curling…My huge One Tree Hill poster looked out of place in middle of a wall with Linkin Park posters, Korn, Metallica, Hoobastank, etc…and some panoramic photos of Manhattan – pre-September 11th. It’s too depressing to talk about, but it’s so pretty and peaceful to look at. I still remember the first time I heard about it…I was in school, Spanish class actually, it had just started, the teacher was late, and people said something about the “accident.” We all thought it was an accident – stupid careless pilot. Well, at first, I thought the kids were joking. I mean, come on. Living on Long Island…Manhattan is like, our place. OKAY. Off topic again. What was I talking about? Oh, right. One Tree Hill. Or at least, my poster. Yeah…James Lafferty is the hottest creature to ever grace the earth. Oh my goodness…are all James’s hot? Well, most. Two-thirds of them, I’ll say. But that’s just me. James Lafferty. Hot. James Kardon. Hot. Jimmy Pitts, the football jerk? Not hot. So yeah, two out of three. But then, Jimmy doesn’t go by “James.” The name James…it’s so…old fashioned. But hey, does it matter?

            Anyways, back to integrating f’(x)s. With trig. Damnit.

--

            “Hey! Um…” someone interrupted me and my locker-ritual. Locker-ritual, ha.

            “Leigh,” I supplied.

           

            Nick shot me an apologetic look. “Sorry…I’ve been going out of my mind lately. I couldn’t find my keys in the morning, I um, forgot to do my homework, and I left everything at home…”

            Nick forgot to do his homework. Wow. And I don’t mean that sarcastically. He’s up there on the rankings…2 or 3, I think. Me? Well, I’m just me. I’m 7…but hey, in a class of 300 something, I’m not complaining.

            “It’s all right. What’s up?”

            “About the project…I thought all of us should get to know each other a little, before we actually start…so…I printed this out from the internet – there are tons of these floating around – and here,” he handed me a pretty thick packet. “Can you fill this out? ASAP? I gave James and Cameron some too. Then I guess we can make copies, and keep them for reference or whatever.”

            He’s not a nerd. Well, he doesn’t look like one at least, but appearances can be deceiving. But hey, printing a “survey” or whatever thing out was smart.

            “Thanks,” I said, flipping through the packet.

            “No problem,” he grinned, turning around to walk away.

            I stuck the packet into a folder, and closed my locker. Time for calc. Getting the test back. Woohoo.

--

            Um…did I say that I hate calculus? Well, screw that. I despise that course with passion. What did I get on the test? A 22 out of 60. I guess it’s a quiz, but whatever. Twenty-two out of sixty. Not that bad…I got a 4 out of 20 once…but I guess if you figure it out, out of 100, it’s around the same. Both under 50. Wow, I really suck at this.

            The teacher, Mr. Cordova, is one nasty teacher. I swear, if he keeps going the way he is, he’ll give himself a heart attack one day in class. His stomach’s already bulging out. Looks like he’s pregnant.

            Anyways, yeah. He was extremely pissed. When he was handing back the tests, he threw them. Literally. Even if he was standing right next to you.

            “The test shows that you do not know anything about calculus,” he said nastily. “Do you know how hard it was for me to grade them? They were pitiful. If you don’t know anything by now, get out of this class.”

            This wasn’t the first time he threatened us, but he looked like he was about to pop. Needless to say, we were dead silent – you could hear the clock ticking.

            “I’d say, anything below a thirty is poor.”

            Wow. Like, oh my gawd, I like, totally needed you to tell me that I’m doing poorly in this class! Poorly? FAILING. My average so far – without this grade added in, is in the SIXTIES. Oh yeah, awesome. A top-ten student…failing a course. OK, so maybe it is AP Calculus, but it’s still a course. I’ve heard that AP Calc students in other schools are getting in the 90s. But alas, we have different teachers. Cordova is the calculus demon. I’m not even kidding. Sure, homework is all right, but our quarterly grades, are just test grades. No homework ones. Nothing. Just tests. I guess yeah, quarter grades are curved, but the curve isn’t nearly enough! Jeezus…

            My friend turned around and whispered, “I got a freaking 28!”

            28?! Chill. That’s good. And I told her that.

            She looked at me as if I had grown another head or something. “What’d you get?”

            “I’m not telling.”

            “In the twenties?”

            “I’m not telling.”

            “Come on. In the twenties?”

            “I’m not telling!”

            And with that, the bell rang.

            Amanda turned around with a huff, and stormed out the door.

            UGH. STOP asking me what I got, if I don’t volunteer it the first time! Common courtesy, guys.

            Great. Now I think she’s mad at me. Wonderful. What a great day. I hate it when people are mad at me. Well, I hate it when people I like are mad at me.

            My best friend, Emmy, is real smart, she’s salutatorian for godssake. She sits in the front of my “column,” or row, and always takes her time packing up – or, getting out of calc. Usually, I’d wait for her to stop blocking the traffic, then walk after her, but today…ha. I wanted to get out of that stupid room before the teacher saw me. I know I did terrible. No more reminders please. So, I pushed past Emmy, and yeah. I was out.

            Sometimes Emmy pisses me off. She’s smart, obviously, but goes around saying, “Oh yeahh…I totally failed that.” I mean, come on damnit! You’ve been saying that you’re failing for how many years now? And you’re salutatorian? WELL then, what am I? Pisses me off to no end. But, she’s my best friend and I love her. See, when I say I’m failing, I really do mean it. I’ve failed midterms, tons of tests, and gotten D- on some essays. So? Who cares? I got into a pretty good college, and I’m happy. But…after the college sees my final transcript…oh boy. Damnit.

--

            Instead of talking to each other during sociology class, Nick, James, Cameron, and I were all filling out the packet that Nick had supplied us with.

-The Basics-

Full Name: Leigh Chen
Nickname: Leigh…
Birthday: May 15th
Height: 5'3”
Weight (optional): 112
Eye Color: Brown
Natural Hair Color: Black
Actual Hair Color: Black.
School: Lincoln HS
Grade: 12
Nationality: Chinese/Taiwanese..
Zodiac sign: Taurus
Shoe size: 7.5-8
Pets: Fish
Status: Single
Location: Lincoln,
Transportation: mom’s car
Lefty/righty: Right
Glasses: at night. Contacts for school
Braces: n/a

-Preferences-

Coke or Pepsi: Coke
Mars bar or Milky Way: Milky Way
Tootsie roll pop or Blow pop: Tootsie roll
Rainy or Shiny Day: …depends
Ice-cream or layer cake: Ice Cream
Movie Theater or Rent: Depends
Wake up early or Go to bed late: Late
Red or Green apples: Red
Devils or Rangers: not fond of hockey
BSB or NSYNC: bsb
Pants or Shorts: pants
Short or Long skirt: both…but don’t plan on ever seeing any on me
Bath or Shower: bath
Chocolate or Vanilla: vanilla
Black and White or Color: black
Hot or Cold: cold

…and it went on and on and on…for around nine pages.

            “Where’d you get this?” James asked, flipping the page.

            “Took it off someone’s online journal thing,” Nick replied.

            “This is so long!” Cameron wailed, not even halfway through the first page. Damn, the girl writes slowly. Maybe it’s just her brain that functions slowly…

            It was only fit for me to say something, right? I mean, the three of them had opened their mouths, and here I was…filling the thing out obediently, like a silent…thing. Oh well. Whatever. Too much time had passed since Cameron’s whine, and it’d be awkward for me to say something, or to add to her comment now.

            I work like that. I hate feeling awkward. But most of the time, I do. I hate being embarrassed, but hey, I’ve got parents. And I hate being ignored…but if it’s the result of not feeling awkward and embarrassed, then to hell with that. Yeah…I’m a complicated little fellow. Girl, I mean. I’ve always wanted to use the word “fellow”…it’s so…interesting and funny, the word I mean.