Katherine Johansson staggered with exhaustion towards the school gates. Having a baby brother was playing havoc with her r.e.m cycle.
Any moderately shallow cheerleader would have died of shock at the sight of her appearance. Her countenance was a sallow and pale concoction which did her no favours for the fact that she was blessed with lank brunette hair that reminded any passer-by of the stringy noodles that were eaten at a greasy Chinese restaurant. Her 'perfect complexion' was set off by the 'fabulous' outfit which she had selected to drape herself with, this fine July morning.
The huge Iron Maiden tee-shirt had swamped her frail physique and made her look like a bin liner. And adding to the hideousness was the tight spandex leggings that clung to her spindly pins with the determination of a limpet. And to top it all off upon her feet lay the battered and haggard looking converses which had seen better days.
She finally halted to a stop at her locker. She did this with extreme difficulty because of the constant stampede of students who got their arses into gear at the merest sound of the bell.
She nursed her dizzied head for a moment. Her frontal lobes were throbbing with the beginnings of a major migraine.
This was not new as having a baby brother brought with him the thoughtful gift package of sleepless nights, migraines, soiled diapers, congealed vomit, and the constant stream of saliva that fell from his mouth at the speed of the water at the Niagara Falls.
The situation was not helped by the fact that her mother had gone AWOL. Did she not think it necessary to stick around to bring her children up?
"Ughh. For love the love of God: where the hell is that woman?!" I groaned inwardly at the woman whom I had to call mother. I mean, who leaves their 2 month old son in the hands of her 17 year old daughter who couldn't even look after herself let alone a baby? Huh? Huh? Exactly no one: except for my mom.
I was running late for my calculus class. I mean, literally. There was no one in the corridors except for the janitor and myself. He was a toothless, old man who had been pushing that old, dirty broom around for the past forty years.
I came to a halt in front of my classroom and took a long, deep sigh. Just how I like it: To have everyone's attention on me. I tucked my hair behind my protruding ears, yanked open the door and marched inside.
"Late again miss Johansson?" I heard the nasal whine of the calculus teacher, Ms Hannigan. The long suffering woman: with the tactfulness of a rhino in a china shop.
Ms Hannigan was the type of woman who any man regardless of age and however desperate they were would run a mile in either direction when they caught sight of her.
I guess you could call her plain butt ugly. But I like to think the best if people so I will leave it at; cosmetically challenged.
She was a portly woman, well into her fifties. Probably destined to live the rest of her life; a sad, depressed, old spinster.
While I had spaced out Ms Hannigan had worked herself into a huff and was now standing directly in front of me. "Miss Johansson. I do not appreciate students waltzing into my classroom 15 minutes late and then have the gall to ignore me when I am speaking to them!" she drew herself up to her full height, which was all of 5"2. She had her hands balled into podgy fists resting on her overbearing love handles.
This sight was enough to make the Queen's guards at Buckingham palace burst into fits of hysterics. So I had no chance. I wiped away the tears of mirth, from my eyes.
I could see the eruption that would ensue from the already pissed off teacher. I braced myself.
"OH! The nerve! How dare you! Detention! After school!" she barked, her eyes bulging and her jowls aquiver.
I heard the sniggers o the other students in the class, the distinct whinny of the head cheerleader was grating on my poor nerves.
"Fine, i'm sorry Ms Hannigan." I dragged my sorry ass off to the empty seat at the back of the class. I dumped my huge backpack unceremoniously upon the desk, disgruntling some of the people next to me. They gave dirty looks and went back to their hateful calculus.
Boy. This was going to be a long day.
A/N: hello peoples! well this is my first and probably last attempt at writing. please R&R! well if you dudes like it then maybe if i'm feeling brave then i might write some more.
bye, DON JON...