-1It was just one of those days when you felt the need to stab yourself in the eye with the nearest writing implement, just to relieve the boredom.

Really, though, there was no reason to finally live up to all of the rumors and have a publicly viewed nervous breakdown resulting in the release of her inner sociopath that would go around stabbing every person on campus with the closest number 2 in reach, after which the judge would ask her why she did it, and she would plead a momentary lapse of sanity brought on by all of the stupid questions.

She took a deep breath, counting to ten in the hopes of calming down. She then tried twenty when she realized ten wasn’t enough. Then she did it in Spanish. Uno, dos, treis…

From the corner of her eye she watched the hand closest to her freshly sharpened number two pencil twitch. She slowly pulled it back into her lap and focused on her breathing. Deeper, deeper…trece, catorce, quince...

She registered Mr. Grunde’s droning voice outside her fraying thoughts, and he was still going on with the same topic they had been covering for the past hour and forty-five minutes. She could feel her characteristic I’m-stressed-out-and-pissed-off-but-don’t-want-to-openly-show-it eye twitch coming on.

Mr. Grunde was a great English teacher, but she would swear on Buddha’s belly that he was cursed with every stupid student on campus in one class. Not that that was very hard here, considering most of the campus had a barely passable human IQ.

He was trying to explain the genius of Shakespeare’s puns to his supposedly advanced English class in collegefor God’s sake--college!--and they still didn’t get it after an hour and forty-six minutes and seventeen seconds. Not that she was counting every freakin’ second until the end of the two-hour class.

They were in one of the large study halls so she leaned her head forward on the table that ran the length of the room, barely resisting the urge to methodically knock herself unconscious on the hard wood.

“Yes, Mr. Roe?”

She groaned inwardly. Do you know how you get to your class the first day of school, look around, take a double take on one of the students--or the entire class--and wonder how the hell they passed the last grade, let alone got into that class? Well, how Devin Roe, football extraordinaire, ever got into Advanced English Literature was beyond her. He had definitely taken way more than one too many shots to the head during games.

“Uh, what is a pun, again?”

She couldn’t help it. She groaned to herself--though she was pretty sure everyone within a mile radius heard it. She also couldn’t resist hitting her head on the desk with a loud thud. Note to self: Hit desk harder next time. She was still conscious.

Mr. Grunde stopped talking. She was facedown on the desk, wallowing in her misery, her eye having a full blown spas attack, so it took her a moment to look up to see what the problem was. Mr. Grunde was staring at her, an eyebrow quirked in question.

“Is there a problem, Ms. Rennings?”

“Yes. Can I leave now?”

His eye brow raised another notch. Wow, that was talent. “Is something the matter?”

“This whole class is a waste of time,” she ground out.

“Really?” He sounded only mildly surprised. “Well, I do appreciate your honesty. I know you must have puns covered, so maybe you could assist Mr. Roe? What is a pun?”

She knew her mouth was hanging open. Was he honestly going to make her say it?

He crossed his arms in what she knew was his waiting pose. She had seen him stand like that for twenty minutes straight once, barely blinking until the poor freshman he had called on had found the answer in the reading he was supposed to have done the day before.

“Oh, for God’s sake…” she mumbled to herself. Anyone could memorize a definition. Louder she said, “A pun is the usually humorous use of a word in such a way as to suggest two or more of its meanings or the meaning of another word similar in sound. Shakespeare is well known for his use of puns in plays such as Romeo and Juliet and Julius Caesar.” Everyone was staring open-mouthed.She was used to that, though it was usually at how odd she was. “Now, can I please leave?”

Mr. Grunde beamed at her. Ugh, no one should be that happy…He honestly enjoyed putting her on the spot, knowing she would always have an answer ready. Asshole.

“Excellent, and no.”

He continued his lecture while she proceeded to knock herself unconscious. The rhythmic cracking of her skull on the wood didn’t seem to bother him, but it definitely garnered her a few odd looks from neighboring students. She noted the girl closest to her left slowly scoot her chair a few extra inches away.

She was hoping for some sort of permanent brain damage just to spite the bastard. Then Mr. Grunde would go to his grave knowing he ruined the genius English student who wasn’t even majoring in English. Oh, the irony.

A few minutes and a hell of a migraine later the bell rang. She grabbed her bag and crookedly sprinted for the door. She looked like the star athlete of some sort of drunken Olympics. Maybe she had hit her head harder than she thought…

She didn’t miss the whispers and looks the other students gave her, but as usual she ignored them. She was just a foot from freedom when Mr. Grunde called her back.

“Ms. Rennings, may I talk to you a moment?”

She looked longingly towards the exit as her classmates began to leave. She was supposed to meet her friend Tyra later, but she could always just give her a call. She turned her head to look back at him.

“Is it really important?”

“Yes.”

She looked back at the door. Tyra was going to be pissed, but he looked serious. She sighed and walked back to his desk where he was now shuffling some papers.

He sat down and got comfortable while she stood awkwardly in front of him. Mr. Grunde was one of her favorite teachers, for all of her grumbling, and she had often run errands for him during her free time, and had even helped tutor students in his classes. He had only kept her after class once before, to ask that she give some one-on-one help after school to a failing student.

When the last person left the room he spoke.

“Addie, I understand that you were very frustrated in class today.”

Today?! She had been ‘frustrated’ in class for the entire semester--the entire year! These people were as dumb as rocks! In Devin Roe’s case, even that comparison would be an insult to the rock!They couldn’t tell a simile from a metaphor! And--Wait a minute, Mr. Grunde never used first names. She began to feel a little uneasy under all the anger--no, sorry, it was ‘frustration’. She resisted air quoting her thoughts. Not even she was that eccentric.

“Mr. Grunde, if this is about my attitude in class today, I’m really sorry. It’s just that they’re all…don’t catch on very quick.” She caught herself from saying ‘dumb assess’. “As you said, it’s very frustrating.” Her tone told him exactly what she thought of his word choice.

He ignored her. “Your attitude is to be expected. It’s quite obvious to me as well as your other literature teachers that you are far beyond any of the other students capabilities.” He smiled a little at that. She had passed the Advanced English Literature entrance exam with the top score in her class.

“Uh-huh…” And this was going where?

“And so I’ve arranged an independent study course instead of class for you. I will give you all of your assignments for the rest of the year to be worked on independent of the class. Your other teachers have agreed, and will be talking to you later to give you their own assignments. Instead of reporting to your regular English classes, you will report to the librarian, Mrs. Chesterton, as stated by school policy, where you will work in the library for an extended period of four hours. You can, of course, stay longer, but the four hours a day is the minimum needed. Do you have any questions?”

Her mouth was hanging wide open and she was pretty sure that was drool on the floor.

“Are you serious?” she squealed.

“Uh, yes.” He looked a little taken back by her small outburst.

“Oh, thank God!” She did a happy little twirl. “You have no idea how happy this makes me. Thank you so, so much!” She spun away and half ran for the door in her excitement.

“Goodbye, Ms. Rennings! And work hard!”

She stuck a hand back into the room in acknowledgement, already out the door.