Sean's POV ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~
"Finally, third period's over with. Stacy, how do you think you did on the history test?" Sean asked his best friend, Stacy. They had been friends since kindergarten, and it showed. No two people were closer.
Stacy Reid was tall and slim with bright blue eyes and shoulder length blonde hair, but her looks weren't the only thing going for her. She was also very athletic, just about as athletic as Sean was, playing field hockey in the fall, basketball in the winter, and lacrosse in the spring.
"Eh, I think I did alright, somewhere in the 80's. How about you, Sean?" Stacy questioned.
"I could've done better. I couldn't remember the names of Lincoln's assassin's accomplices." He replied.
"Really? Me either. Maybe we didn't learn it. Who knows, if everyone got it wrong, maybe Mr. Rowson will drop that question." She said, enthusiastically.
"Please, this is Mr. Rowson we're talking about. He's the crabbiest teacher in the school!" Sean said, watching his friend Lori walk up.
Lori Starke was shorter than Stacy, and a bit heavier. Her face was round, with pretty brown eyes and long brown hair. She was captain of the girl's soccer team, and smart to boot, receiving straight A's every semester.
"Hey guys, what's up?" Lori asked.
"Not much, Lori. Just talking about boring old Rowson." Sean answered.
They walked through the halls, parting ways to go to their lockers. 'Calculus next. Need my binder and my book,' Sean thought to himself. He was barely passing Calculus, and Coach Thompson was getting very annoyed at his inability to receive decent grades. Sean tried telling the coach that he was just no good in math; he wanted to drop Calculus, and take an easier course, but the guidance counselor wouldn't allow it. "It's too late now, Sean. You'll just have to adjust and try your hardest. I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do." 'Nothing you can do,' he thought, her words ringing in his head.
"You're late, Sean. That'll be a detention. After school, two o'clock, my room. Be here." Ms. Townsend barked.
Sean barely paid any attention to the class. He had bigger things to worry about, like the big game coming up. 'Homecoming. We're going to dominate, just like always.' He was brought out of his little daydream by Ms. Townsend's screeching voice, telling him that maybe if he'd stop looking out the window and pay attention, he'd actually pass the class. She handed him a paper, the quiz he took yesterday.
'Damnit,' he thought. 'A 67 won't help my grade at all. Shit, I'm so going to fail this course, it's not even funny.' He placed the quiz in his binder, got up, and walked to the door.
"Just where do you think you're going, Mr. Cowan?" Ms. Townsend asked.
"I'm leaving. This class is bullshit. Why take a course I'm going to fail anyway, when I can take a course I have an actual chance of passing?" He responded.
"That's another detention. There will be no cursing in my classroom. Now SIT DOWN!" The teacher screamed.
"Fuck no! Catch ya later!" With that, he walked out of the classroom, feeling a sudden sense of pride. 'Did I do what I think I just did?' He asked himself over and over again, not really believing himself until he heard the announcement.
"Pardon the interruption. Mr. Sean Cowan, please report to the main office. Mr. Sean Cowan, please report to the main office. Thank you"
'Shit, now I'm in for it. Coach is gonna throw me off the team. I'm done for now. Great, just great!' He thought, ramming his fist into a locker, making an indentation in the door.
"Can I help you?" The secretary asked politely.
"Uh, yeah, I guess so. I'm Sean Cowan-"
As soon as he stated his name, the secretary gave him a dirty look, and told him to sit down and wait. Sean rolled his eyes, knowing fully well what was coming. He was probably going to meet with the Principal and Coach, and he knew exactly what they were going to say.
"Sean, Ms. Townsend called me with an interesting bit of information. She told me that you were staring out the window, not paying attention to the lesson. She handed you a quiz, and you got up, started cursing, and walked out of the room. Is that correct?" The principal asked.
Sean sighed. He knew he wouldn't be able to get out of this one. Not even Coach could do it. Slowly, he nodded his head, affirming the principal's tale.
"I see. Normally, students would be suspended for a number of days. However, since this is the first infraction against you, I'm going to let it slide. But don't let it happen again. You hear me? I don't want to hear about another curse word leaving your lips. If I do, I'm sure you know what'll happen."
Again, Sean nodded his head, a bit happier though. 'I can still play football. I'm not suspended.' "I have a question, Sir. Is there anyway that I can drop Calculus? I really don't want to be in that class. I'm close to failing, and as I'm sure you know, if I start failing even one class, I'll be put on the bench until I pull my grade up."
The principal thought for a moment, and called the guidance counselor into his office. Very simply, he told her to put Sean in whatever class he wanted to be in, the class being statistics. 'Just like that, I'm moved into a new course. I won't have to deal with that frigid bitch Townsend. Nothing you can do, my ass!'
He walked out of the office, much happier. 'Easier class, still on the team. Everything's going my way today!'
"Ahem, uh, S-Sean? Can I, uh, talk? With you, I mean?"