Untitled
I don't have a name for this one yet. Hey guys, I'm the writer of Harvey Loved (1), which I have in no way finished, but I'm changing up my thinking a bit so I'll b focusing on a new piece now. Hope u like. Tell me what u think, peas!
It all began in math class.
Normally, this was the time when Finn slept. I mean, with Mrs. Laroue droning on and on...and the soft whir of the radiator overhead...the conditions in math class were perfect for cat naps. It was also the best place to waste time. So to think that this whole story (or anything interesting at all, really) began in math class is a tad absurd, to say the least.
But that's where it began.
It was a dreary February day, and though the snow had melted from the December and January months, and all the weathermen had promised that the temperature would really begin to escalate, a horrid Arctic wind had blown in from somewhere north of Hillsburry. And it had only gotten stronger and colder throughout the week.
The frigid air caused Mrs. Laroue to turn up the heat in her room, and the temperature made everyone in the class even more lethargic than they'd ever been before.
As usual, Finn sat in his regular seat by the textbook-book shelf with the sagging plant on top, on the verge of unconsciousness.
His whole body was slumped forward, his shoulders were hunched. He head was drooped and his eyes (though you couldn't see them) were drooping, then fluttering, then drooping again. From the front of the room, any one who looked at Finn would either assume he had died, or was in fact asleep. But no one ever looked at Finn. He was the kind of teenager that enjoyed fading out, behind the scenes.
He wasn't necessarily weird in any way. Nor was he a geek or unpleasant in demeanor. He was just Finn: destined to be a by-stander in life. Average. And that was just fine with him.
The pay off fading, instead of standing out, is that no one suspects you of a thing. Not once had Mrs. Laroue caught Finn dozing off. On his report card, she wrote: a pleasure to have in class. And the only reason she put that was because he got good enough grades and maintained a B-. In fact, all his teachers put: a pleasure to have in class (or at least, something to that affect) on his report card. And in most of his classes, he got B's and some A's, with the occasional C.
Until that fateful day, the dark-haired boy in the back seemed utterly common in every way.
It was the start of math; that horrible time in a class u despise were time seems to have stopped.
Believe me, if you had been Finn, who would have slept, too.
"Inequalities are our next chapter, and in order to understand inequalities, students need to remember to write down all the steps for each and every problem. And on that note, I'd like you all to please take out your homework for grading," droned Mrs. Laroue, a short, plumb, lady with a voice that hung listless in the warm air. An audible sigh sounded through the students, who weren't happy to have their homework graded, but felt too tired to argue. Finn paid this no heed. Because, as you may remember, he was asleep.
This is, until he felt a soft tap on the left side of his head. His eyes immediately shot open. There, on his desk, was the thing that hit him. A crumpled piece of paper. Finn looked around and noticed the popular gang a few rows down, snickering like maniacs.
Now, as I have stated, Finn wasn't the kind of kid one would beat up. He was average, but he wasn't hated in any way. And, in some ways, his closest friends were the popular guys, because he hung with jocks. It also helped that he wasn't too shabby at any sport, either. But these kids were the popular crowd...the kings and queens of high-school society. Above most of the jocks, even. They picked on whom ever, whenever.
Finn cocked his head to one side, slightly confused and maybe a little embarrassed. No one but they had noticed him get hit, however, so it made it a tad less embarrassing. But he would try not to fall asleep again, just in case that was why he got hit in the first place.
Suddenly, a loud giggle erupted from the huddle of popular who had thrown the paper at him in the first place. Bailene Rowler-Hernbart; known to her friends as "Sammy" for reasons no one could fathom but excepted equally.
Her hair was a stark, almost white-blonde color, and her skin was quite a few hints lighter than her deep tan, which she acquired in the summer.
Not only was she beautiful, but there were rumors that she was the daughter of a famous surfer, as well. Whether or not this was true, no one really for sure.
Her giggle echoed up through the room, adding a splash of necessary color. The students looked over in alarm, as if awakened from some sort of deep sleep.
Mrs. Laroue swiveled sharply on her heels to glare in the general direction of the laugh.
"Excuse me, whoever-that-was, but I didn't know that inequalities were so humorous! Who ever it was needs to settle down. Immediately." The women's voice was still mono-tone, yet amplified several describes louder, making her surprisingly more menacing. The group quieted down. Sammy smothered another giggle with her perfectly-manicured hand. But not soon enough for Mrs. Laroue not to have noticed.
"Miss Hernbart!" The room went deadly silent. One could have heard a gnat whisper at that moment. She might've been boring, but NO ONE had ever messed with Laroue and not had brutal actions put against them.
All eyes were on Sammy as her face lit up with cold surprise. Finn grinned slightly. Revenge was sweet.
"Miss Hernbart, what is that paper you are so cleverly trying to hide?" This caught Finn's attention, and the rest of the classes as well. Sammy's face drained of color. her mouth opened, but no words were said. Her friends turned away from her desk, as if she had caught a contagious illness.
"It's not anything." She murmured, her voice shaking ever so slightly.
"Not anything?"
"N-no."
"Then why are you trying so hard as to keep it from me?"
Silence. Now Sammy's face was turning a bright red color.
"Tell me the truth, Miss Hernbart, or you go straight to the dean. Is it a note?"
"Um..."
"About someone?"
"...Yea."
"Me?" Mrs. Larou asked in a dangerous voice.
"No! No! It's defiantly not about you! I would never, I mean...we would never-"
"So it's a good note?"
"Umm...yea? Lol, maybe? It's not....like...bad-"
"Then its school appropriate, correct?"
"Yes! Totally!" Sammy's voice turned to relief. It looked like she was going to get off the hook. She laughed nervously.
"Then you wouldn't mind reading it out loud to the class, would you? I'd love to be in on the joke."
At this, the room swelled with a thrum of conversation. the kind of noise you hear from a crowd when they know their in for some exciting scandal.Finn couldn't believe his luck. An actually interesting math class! Finally! A few moments later, Sammy was standing in front of the math class, a total of thirty nine students (hey...it was a big class), awkwardly feigning a look of superiority when it was so obvious that she felt more uncomfortable than a mouse in a room full of ravenous cats. Finn felt bad for the girl. Truly he did. But it was a rare sight indeed to watch a cool kid get their ego whooped. He might as well enjoy this once in a life-time spectacle.
"Um..." Sammy began, straightening out a folded note with trembling fingers. "It says: Dear Courtney-" at this, a short, skinny girl who probably weighed five pounds and had rosy blonde hair looked up sharply. Her eyes widened. That was Courtney Brookes, close friend of Sammy and famed gossiper of the school. If you wanted info, you sought Courtney. Which made the note Sammy was about to read a WHOLE lot juicier. The crowd leaned forward. Even Finn found himself leaning in to hear every word. Mrs. Laroue stood to the side, arms crossed, glowering.
"Continue," she growled.
"I have this ginormous secret to tell you. Tee.. hee. You want to know who I have the biggest, hu-mongo-ist crush on?" The room burst into a chorus of noise.
"Do I have to keep reading this?" complained Sammy, her slender frame wilted, her blue eyes pleading for another, more humane punishment.
"Please continue, Miss Hernbart, I think the class would like to know." Another loud burst of noise from the room erupted forth. Squeals of laughter, cat calls, and Courtney whimpering loudly to her boyfriend, Mike: "Ohmygod.. ohmygod this isn't happening say something, Mike! She said it was for my eyes alone! Holy crap, OMG!"
Mike and his cronies just howled with laughter.
"CONTINUE," repeated Mrs. Laroue.
"I'll give you a hint. He's super-duper cute...awesome hair and a....a...a h-hot bod, and he has the most amazing..."
Sammy looked horribly pained. Each word looked like it hurt. Her cheeks, by this time, were wildly inflamed and she didn't bother to swipe her long blonde hair out of her face. The class was in hysterics. Finn winced. This wasn't funny. This was pathetic. He looked over at Mrs. Laroue, whose face was firm and unmoving. She stamped her chubby little foot impatiently.
"He has the most....amazing teeth. His smile makes me just want to give him a big smooch. And if you still haven't guessed who I'm talking about, he's in this room." the classroom roared. Heads turned every which way, hoping to pick out the guy. Finn could barely stand it a moment longer. This wasn't professional--this was torture.
Sure she was a complete air-head. But no one deserved this.
"Still don't know? Okie-dokie. I'll throw this crap piece of paper at him. Then you will know who my future husband is."
Though Sammy was barely audible, Finn's head shot straight up. Hadn't she thrown the paper at... him?
She...had thrown the piece of paper...at HIM.
Before Finn could truly process what was happening, the bell rung.
And class was dismissed.
Normally, this was the time when Finn slept. I mean, with Mrs. Laroue droning on and on...and the soft whir of the radiator overhead...the conditions in math class were perfect for cat naps. It was also the best place to waste time. So to think that this whole story (or anything interesting at all, really) began in math class is a tad absurd, to say the least.
But that's where it began.
It was a dreary February day, and though the snow had melted from the December and January months, and all the weathermen had promised that the temperature would really begin to escalate, a horrid Arctic wind had blown in from somewhere north of Hillsburry. And it had only gotten stronger and colder throughout the week.
The frigid air caused Mrs. Laroue to turn up the heat in her room, and the temperature made everyone in the class even more lethargic than they'd ever been before.
As usual, Finn sat in his regular seat by the textbook-book shelf with the sagging plant on top, on the verge of unconsciousness.
His whole body was slumped forward, his shoulders were hunched. He head was drooped and his eyes (though you couldn't see them) were drooping, then fluttering, then drooping again. From the front of the room, any one who looked at Finn would either assume he had died, or was in fact asleep. But no one ever looked at Finn. He was the kind of teenager that enjoyed fading out, behind the scenes.
He wasn't necessarily weird in any way. Nor was he a geek or unpleasant in demeanor. He was just Finn: destined to be a by-stander in life. Average. And that was just fine with him.
The pay off fading, instead of standing out, is that no one suspects you of a thing. Not once had Mrs. Laroue caught Finn dozing off. On his report card, she wrote: a pleasure to have in class. And the only reason she put that was because he got good enough grades and maintained a B-. In fact, all his teachers put: a pleasure to have in class (or at least, something to that affect) on his report card. And in most of his classes, he got B's and some A's, with the occasional C.
Until that fateful day, the dark-haired boy in the back seemed utterly common in every way.
It was the start of math; that horrible time in a class u despise were time seems to have stopped.
Believe me, if you had been Finn, who would have slept, too.
"Inequalities are our next chapter, and in order to understand inequalities, students need to remember to write down all the steps for each and every problem. And on that note, I'd like you all to please take out your homework for grading," droned Mrs. Laroue, a short, plumb, lady with a voice that hung listless in the warm air. An audible sigh sounded through the students, who weren't happy to have their homework graded, but felt too tired to argue. Finn paid this no heed. Because, as you may remember, he was asleep.
This is, until he felt a soft tap on the left side of his head. His eyes immediately shot open. There, on his desk, was the thing that hit him. A crumpled piece of paper. Finn looked around and noticed the popular gang a few rows down, snickering like maniacs.
Now, as I have stated, Finn wasn't the kind of kid one would beat up. He was average, but he wasn't hated in any way. And, in some ways, his closest friends were the popular guys, because he hung with jocks. It also helped that he wasn't too shabby at any sport, either. But these kids were the popular crowd...the kings and queens of high-school society. Above most of the jocks, even. They picked on whom ever, whenever.
Finn cocked his head to one side, slightly confused and maybe a little embarrassed. No one but they had noticed him get hit, however, so it made it a tad less embarrassing. But he would try not to fall asleep again, just in case that was why he got hit in the first place.
Suddenly, a loud giggle erupted from the huddle of popular who had thrown the paper at him in the first place. Bailene Rowler-Hernbart; known to her friends as "Sammy" for reasons no one could fathom but excepted equally.
Her hair was a stark, almost white-blonde color, and her skin was quite a few hints lighter than her deep tan, which she acquired in the summer.
Not only was she beautiful, but there were rumors that she was the daughter of a famous surfer, as well. Whether or not this was true, no one really for sure.
Her giggle echoed up through the room, adding a splash of necessary color. The students looked over in alarm, as if awakened from some sort of deep sleep.
Mrs. Laroue swiveled sharply on her heels to glare in the general direction of the laugh.
"Excuse me, whoever-that-was, but I didn't know that inequalities were so humorous! Who ever it was needs to settle down. Immediately." The women's voice was still mono-tone, yet amplified several describes louder, making her surprisingly more menacing. The group quieted down. Sammy smothered another giggle with her perfectly-manicured hand. But not soon enough for Mrs. Laroue not to have noticed.
"Miss Hernbart!" The room went deadly silent. One could have heard a gnat whisper at that moment. She might've been boring, but NO ONE had ever messed with Laroue and not had brutal actions put against them.
All eyes were on Sammy as her face lit up with cold surprise. Finn grinned slightly. Revenge was sweet.
"Miss Hernbart, what is that paper you are so cleverly trying to hide?" This caught Finn's attention, and the rest of the classes as well. Sammy's face drained of color. her mouth opened, but no words were said. Her friends turned away from her desk, as if she had caught a contagious illness.
"It's not anything." She murmured, her voice shaking ever so slightly.
"Not anything?"
"N-no."
"Then why are you trying so hard as to keep it from me?"
Silence. Now Sammy's face was turning a bright red color.
"Tell me the truth, Miss Hernbart, or you go straight to the dean. Is it a note?"
"Um..."
"About someone?"
"...Yea."
"Me?" Mrs. Larou asked in a dangerous voice.
"No! No! It's defiantly not about you! I would never, I mean...we would never-"
"So it's a good note?"
"Umm...yea? Lol, maybe? It's not....like...bad-"
"Then its school appropriate, correct?"
"Yes! Totally!" Sammy's voice turned to relief. It looked like she was going to get off the hook. She laughed nervously.
"Then you wouldn't mind reading it out loud to the class, would you? I'd love to be in on the joke."
At this, the room swelled with a thrum of conversation. the kind of noise you hear from a crowd when they know their in for some exciting scandal.Finn couldn't believe his luck. An actually interesting math class! Finally! A few moments later, Sammy was standing in front of the math class, a total of thirty nine students (hey...it was a big class), awkwardly feigning a look of superiority when it was so obvious that she felt more uncomfortable than a mouse in a room full of ravenous cats. Finn felt bad for the girl. Truly he did. But it was a rare sight indeed to watch a cool kid get their ego whooped. He might as well enjoy this once in a life-time spectacle.
"Um..." Sammy began, straightening out a folded note with trembling fingers. "It says: Dear Courtney-" at this, a short, skinny girl who probably weighed five pounds and had rosy blonde hair looked up sharply. Her eyes widened. That was Courtney Brookes, close friend of Sammy and famed gossiper of the school. If you wanted info, you sought Courtney. Which made the note Sammy was about to read a WHOLE lot juicier. The crowd leaned forward. Even Finn found himself leaning in to hear every word. Mrs. Laroue stood to the side, arms crossed, glowering.
"Continue," she growled.
"I have this ginormous secret to tell you. Tee.. hee. You want to know who I have the biggest, hu-mongo-ist crush on?" The room burst into a chorus of noise.
"Do I have to keep reading this?" complained Sammy, her slender frame wilted, her blue eyes pleading for another, more humane punishment.
"Please continue, Miss Hernbart, I think the class would like to know." Another loud burst of noise from the room erupted forth. Squeals of laughter, cat calls, and Courtney whimpering loudly to her boyfriend, Mike: "Ohmygod.. ohmygod this isn't happening say something, Mike! She said it was for my eyes alone! Holy crap, OMG!"
Mike and his cronies just howled with laughter.
"CONTINUE," repeated Mrs. Laroue.
"I'll give you a hint. He's super-duper cute...awesome hair and a....a...a h-hot bod, and he has the most amazing..."
Sammy looked horribly pained. Each word looked like it hurt. Her cheeks, by this time, were wildly inflamed and she didn't bother to swipe her long blonde hair out of her face. The class was in hysterics. Finn winced. This wasn't funny. This was pathetic. He looked over at Mrs. Laroue, whose face was firm and unmoving. She stamped her chubby little foot impatiently.
"He has the most....amazing teeth. His smile makes me just want to give him a big smooch. And if you still haven't guessed who I'm talking about, he's in this room." the classroom roared. Heads turned every which way, hoping to pick out the guy. Finn could barely stand it a moment longer. This wasn't professional--this was torture.
Sure she was a complete air-head. But no one deserved this.
"Still don't know? Okie-dokie. I'll throw this crap piece of paper at him. Then you will know who my future husband is."
Though Sammy was barely audible, Finn's head shot straight up. Hadn't she thrown the paper at... him?
She...had thrown the piece of paper...at HIM.
Before Finn could truly process what was happening, the bell rung.
And class was dismissed.
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