hey i've done my time (open) Mar 1, 2009 16:04:56 GMT 10
Post by andreacaxton on Mar 1, 2009 16:04:56 GMT 10
Andrea hated being wrong.[/color] she muttered under her breath, reluctantly taking her pen back between her pale, slender fingers, her other hand smoothing out the clean, and unfortunately, empty expanse of parchment. She hated her Algebra teacher. She really did.[/blockquote][/size]
She sighed, staring down at the same page in her Algebra textbook that she’d been looking at for what felt like the rest of forever. Her father was the one who had the smart genes; somehow, that seemed to have skipped her. Not to say that she was an idiot. But, whereas everything came so incredibly easy to her father, she had to work for it. And it was no secret that Algebra was definitely not one of her strong points. It was the bloody bane of her existence. She was sick and tired of reading the same sentence over and over, because, quite frankly, she was having zero progress. The only thing she’d established in the past hour was that her teacher was a git, for assigning this damn assignment. Even when her friends offered to help her with the homework, Andrea had refused, insisted that, yes, she’d be fine on her own. She really, really didn’t like being wrong. Clearly, she wasn’t fine on her own, and this God damned essay was going to be the cause of her slow, excruciating death.
With a finalizing huff, she dropped her pen, which hadn’t been very productive in her hand anyway, and sat receded in her chair. The wooden rungs pulled sharply at the skin through the fabric of her shirt, and she couldn’t help but wince the tiniest bit, readjusting herself so that it was more comfortable. She closed her wide blue eyes, her thoughts slipping to those of the theatre. She wanted to make the cut for a Midsummer Nights Dream so badly… Her entire life revolved around the stage, and if she didn’t make it, her life blood would be cut off. She honestly didn’t care what part she got (though, something akin to the lead would be nice) but anything would be lovely. It would allow her to continue on with what she strived for in life, and it would in addition help her get adjusted to the new life college presented.
She simply sat in that fashion for a few brief moments, clearly letting herself indulge in idle thoughts for bit. It didn’t take long, though, until that annoying little bugger of a voice, the one that nags the hell out of you when you’re supposed to be doing something, popped up in the back of her mind. The damned Algebra textbook was sitting wide open in front of her, and she wondered if it was possible for inanimate objects to stare you down. With that, she let the legs of the chair fall forward with a small thump, her eyes fluttering open and falling upon the cause of all her problems. She glowered at its open pages for a moment, as if it would make it completely disappear altogether. Sadly, it didn’t. ”I hate Algebra,”