Lmfao. This is the result of my 'nothing but studying' weekend. Sure... I did get a lot accomplished, non-studying-wise XD I hope you like it :D

Kewjo

“Ack!” Coffee tastes horrible.

“What is it?” My mom asked. Then she looked at me and gave me a look. “Do you never pay attention to what you’re eating or drinking? That coffee is for your dad.”

“Great, now my parents are trying to kill me with nasty things like coffee.”

“Oh, will you just hurry up and get ready? I’m not in the mood to drive you to school, so don’t miss the bus like you do every other day.”

“Okay!” I grabbed my backpack and rushed out the door. I looked at my watch. Thirty seconds before the bus comes. I started to walk a bit faster. Tell me why didn’t I run? Because guess what. I missed the bus. Again. This is how it went:

Me, walking very fast, arriving at the bus stop, coming too late, and did I mention that our new bus driver is very unnoticing? If that’s a word? And it had rained last night, so guess what was on the ground just waiting to splatter me? Yes. So the bus just zooms off, leaving me here looking like a giant took his paintbrush and splattered brown paint all over me.

So I march back to my house and call my mom to come downstairs. And she does, and gives me one of those looks; the kind that says there’s no way she’s taking me to school. And so I pull one of my puppy dog faces on her; luckily that’s her weakness. Plus the fact that education is important anyhow… But that face is adorable, if I do say so myself. It’s worked on everybody so far…not that I’m proud of it. I do feel guilty using such dirty tactics. Well, anyways, I went back upstairs, washed up, changed, and then got into my mom’s car.

Along the way…oh yeah, I think I should tell you just who I am ’cuz you know, you shouldn’t let strangers ramble on and on about themselves to you. It’s scary. Believe me; I’ve had old people on the city bus strike up conversations with me, no, to me, about random things that I do not want to hear. So, I was going to introduce myself. The name's Kewjo. Yeah. You must be thinking, ‘what kind of name is that? ‘Kewjo?’’ It’s pronounced ‘q-joe'. The ‘j’ is said as in the French way of saying ‘je’. Something like that.

As I was saying, I was on my way to school in my mom’s car. After she dropped me off, I was off to the spot where my friends usually are; my locker, or right near the front foyer.

But before I actually got there, I stopped.

One guy walked past me. A guy with longish black hair so shiny and silky-looking, with hazel eyes surrounded by thick black lashes (don’t even ASK how I took this all in so fast, my brain doesn’t usually work that way; I never seem to notice anything, not even a hot guy). As soon as he passed me, I felt really strange; I had this tingling feeling in my wrists up to my elbows. It’s a really annoying feeling, actually.

I headed for my first period class from the front foyer. It’s my first day here, but I’m not too late. It’s only the third day of school. I glanced at my schedule. I’m supposed to be in English right now. At least I don’t have math in the morning. That was last period. I saw some stairs and went up them.

I found the room I’m supposed to be in. 273, yup. I entered the classroom, but everyone looked so much older than me. Then I looked at my schedule, and back at the room number on the door. I could feel the stares of the class and the teacher. Crap. I was looking at my semester two schedule. And I should’ve looked at the course code, even though I didn’t understand it, because it showed that I have French here. The printout had semester two listed before semester one. What the hell.

I left the classroom and went back down the stairs. All the halls were empty because everyone, unlike me, was in their classes. You’d think there’d at least be one other kid who came late on the third day of school and couldn’t find their class.

Well, I finally found it, and it was actually outside, in a portable. Portable 5. I got to the door and tried opening it, but it wouldn’t. So I knocked. This tall, scrawny girl with red hair tied back opened the door, and I stepped in. I took a look around the classroom to see the whole class staring back at me. Some girls had their mouths dropped and then started whispering to each other. I don’t get them.

The teacher, who was shorter than me and a bit on the fat side, cleared his throat impatiently. I guess I was a bit late. A look at my watch told me that I was twenty minutes late. Oh well. I glanced at the chalkboard before I started to move to an empty seat, and the words ‘Mr. Baldwin’ stared back at me. I had to laugh at that. What didn’t help me stop short was the fact that he was bald.

Mistake. Baldy told me to shut my mouth since I was late, and that I was supposed to take a seat toward the back behind this girl with the wavy, shoulder-length hazelnut brown hair, young man. (Very descriptive...is it a language arts thing?) I told him straight out that my name is not young man. The class snickered. Whatever. He glowered at me through his small round glasses and picked up the attendance sheet, I’m guessing. He searched the names and apparently found one that was marked away.