I raised my hand. The teacher called me up to her desk.

I actually wasn't mad or anything because I didn't know any of the people's names on that list so that probably meant she was just telling us her sheet of brainstorming baby names or whatever.

"Why isn't my name on the list?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Too bad, so sad." I don't know who my favorite teacher is, but I know who my least favorite is.

"Why are you guys so loud?" She yelled to the class, "I'm sure the President can hear you telling Caleb about how your boyfriend hogged the toilet at your house, Annalise."

"We try our best to," A girl commented, "Our voices should be heard, anyway. You told us that at the beginning of the year."

"Well, you're talking about the wrong teacher." She huffed in annoyance.

"No, I remember you talking about it," someone else said.

"That was me at the beginning of the year. I changed my mind. Now let me deal with this." She turned back to me.

Her eyes flickered back to the sheet of paper and said, "Oh."

That's all she's gotta say? Seriously?

"Wrong list." She looked around her desk for the list of names.

"Okay! So here's the list of people that get to go on this awesome trip with me..." She continued calling out names.

My name wasn't on that list, either.
____________

"Who sent you here?" The school's secretary asked me with a tired expression. "And why? You seem like a good kid." Then she muttered, "If I haven't seen you here before, then you're a good kid. Unless you smell like pines. Because those things stink."

"I dunno," I said, "The funky woman that-"

"It's Ms. Thomas! Moving on, why did she send you here? She seems like an okay woman, other than that she always smells like lemons. Imagine walking around smelling like fruit. You'd be snatched by a bear." The secretary shuddered. So Ms. Thomas was her name. Huh.

This secretary seems to have a... good sense of smell.

"Before I answer your question," I told her, "Can you tell me what I smell like?"

The more time I waste, the more time I get to skip out of Ms. Thomas yelling at us. Win-win.

"Hmm..." She sniffed, "I have no idea." I think I broke her smelling abilities by not having a flavor. Man, that sucks.

Great. I smell like I-have-no-idea. Best flavor ever. Bet it's limited edition.

"Now answer my question," She said.

"She sent me here because I asked her a question." Her jaw dropped.

"Seriously?" She asked, "Because you asked a QUESTION?"

No, you totally aren't supposed to ask those in school.

"Yeah," I said, "That's what I said, too, so she sent me to the principal's office for that." Thank goodness the principal wasn't there, because I really didn't feel like acting like a 'pal.'

The principal wasn't my pal and boy, and she never will be. To me, she will be forever the creepy tall lady with heels so she's EVEN TALLER. Insert shudder.

The secretary snorted. "Since the principal isn't here, I guess I'll decide how to punish you..."

I'd do anything to stay away from Ms. Thomas, thank you very much.

"Your punishment is that you have to go to wherever they're going." I choked on my spit.

"What?" I asked, "Really?"

"Yeah," She grinned, "I knew you were one of the Kool Good Cids. Kool with a k and kids with a c." She smiled.

She is officially my favorite woman in the world. Maybe favorite person because I don't like men in general.

"To make this punishment even worse," She humouredly said darkly, "You're not allowed to pay!"

Le gasp. I've always wanted to pay extra money.

I gasped. "My, my, that is the WORST punishment ever!" I explained.

"Now, now, better leave, child, before I make your punishment worse by putting you in a lounge chair the entire time and carrying you around in it like you're some queen." The secretary waved.

I actually wanted to stay. That would've been a nice punishment.    

I left, and when I walked back in, they were doing something related to history. If I didn't mention it before, that was Career prep.

I really don't see the point of school. Music: we have Youtube. Sport: There are TVs. Spanish: There's Dora. English: everything's shortened anyway (LOL, BTW, IDK). Math: that's why we have calculators. Geography: Buying globes aren't too difficult. History: They're dead anyway.

If you're a teacher or a school lover and I offended you, I'm not sorry. I was truly just expressing my feelings. My bad for being truthful.

"Hey! You! The girl that's supposed to be in the office! Why did they make the Declaration of Independence?" Ms. Thomas yelled at me when I walked through the door.

Who, me? I'm 'the girl that's supposed to be in the office?' I'm actually pretty happy with my name because unlike her, I'm not 'the woman that smells like lemons.' Just imagine being a fruit. It actually suits her because she's sour.

Bruh. It literally says it in the name- declaring independence.

"To declare independence from Great Britain," I said quietly.

"What did you say?" She asked, "To declare independence from Great Brazil? Sweetheart, I know you're disappointed in not going but we didn't declare independence from Great Brazil."

What a wonderful combination. A deaf, sour, and mean lemon for a teacher.

"Okay, class," She said, "The answer is Great Belgium."

Wait, what?

"You mean the place that makes those wonderful chocolate thingies they sell at Costco?" Someone asked.

"That's Switzerland, idiot!"

"No, I saw them at Costco once," Someone else chimed in.

If Great Belgium was the answer, Great Brazil would be so much more logical.

"Belgium didn't exist back then," Someone argued.

"Brazil didn't either!" A guy fought back.

At this rate, we'll be here forever.

The bell rung. I sighed in relief. Being with Ms. Thomas forever was even worse a nightmare than living without Cheeze-its...

I left that class, hoping Ms. Thomas would get fired.

Fine, maybe that was a little mean. Let me rephrase that.

I left that class, hoping Ms. Thomas would get some contagious disease and the sub would be nice to us.

There, that's better.
_______________

"My dad is crazy." Lysander yelled through the phone, "Crazy, I say!"

I take that they have a good father-son relationship.

"Uhh... Well, I'm crazy too." I chuckle nervously.

"No, you're crazy-crazy, but he's crazy-crazy-crazy-crazy." He counted off the crazy's on his fingers.

"Wow... I bet you're proud that you know so many crazy people."

"I proud I know you... I used to be proud of my dad, but now...not so much." He replied.

"I didn't know there was anyone in the world crazier than me," I told him.

"Yeah," He agreed, "until now. Like, come on! My dad looked at some Chinese man and called him my mother! MY MOTHER! SHE'S NOT CHINESE!" He yelled through the phone.

"Oh... oh-okay," I said cautiously.

"And I'm not even done yet!" He exclaimed, "He found some teenage Mexican woman and yelled at her because she 'was Dora' and somehow escaped from the TV! And he even asked where Boots was." He shuddered.

I wanted to say my parents embarrassed me more than that, but I was pretty sure Lysander didn't want to hear that, so I stayed quiet.

"I have something to tell you..." I told him.

"What?" He asked like a little kid wanting to know what a parent got for him for Christmas.

"I'm coming to Brazil," I said excitedly, "Very soon."

He gasped. "How?"

"So it all started when..."
____________

THANK YOU GUYS FOR GETTING ME TO HERE! I HOPE YOU LIKED THE LAST CHAPTER OF THIS BOOK! I ALSO HOPE YOU WON'T MURDER ME FOR PRANKING YOU!

This is exactly why you should read my announcements because I actually post important things there! I literally told you guys how many parts this book will have.

And don't even lie to me if you don't read them. It's fine, but it'll save you from heart attacks.

If you don't murder me for pranking you, I won't murder you for not reading my announcements (unless you've already died of a heart attack, then I already did my job). Call it even.

Comment if you had a heart attack →

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