History Class

As we were walking to our next class, Mark asked to see my schedule. Well, he didn't really ask but just grabbed it from my hand. "Maybe we have other classes together." He compared it to his schedule. As it turns out, we have four classes together plus lunch and study hall. "Would you look at that!," he exclaimed, "I guess you're stuck with me for the rest of the morning. Let's hurry because Ms. Cartwright does not like latecomers in her class."

We pushed our way to the second floor where the History class is. The hallways are packed and it makes you wonder how they fit everyone in the classrooms. Several people called out to Mark as we made out way through the hallways and he acknowledged each one. He must be pretty popular around here. Either that or maybe it's just because it's a small town where everybody grew up together. I opt to believe my first theory.

"So, you like theater too?" Mark asked.

"Not really, but I prefer that to art and choir. I was in the local theater group back in New York." I said much more that I originally intended to.

"Awesome!" he exclaimed, "I like art but I prefer acting. As for choir, I don't think you'd want to hear me sing. People carry me off the stage during Karaoke nights."

"That bad, huh?" I was trying to suppress my laugh and keep a straight face.

He nodded with a fake, exaggerated pout. We have reached the door of the classroom.

"I don't think it really is that bad. I would like to hear you sing sometime." I laughed, for I cannot contain it any longer.

He opened his mouth to object some more but was interrupted by someone yelling his name. "Hey, Alexander!" A burly guy came from across the room, "Whoa, you work fast! You already got the new girl." He winked at me playfully.

Mark, on the other hand, punched the guys arm in a jest as he greeted him. "'Sup, Thompson! How are you, man?"

I was carefully trying to ease myself from the two guys, easing out quietly from the group so as not to attract any attention. But I guess luck was not on my side because Mark remembered me, grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward. "By the way, this is Cassie Jensen, the new student as you said earlier."

"Hi," I greeted him with my voice almost a whisper. I don't know if I'm feeling shy or embarrassed to be somewhat singled out. I hate when this happens, which is quite often.

"Hi," I greeted him with my voice almost a whisper. I don't know if I'm feeling shy or embarrassed to be somewhat singled out. I hate when this happens, which is quite often.

"How you doin'? I'm Erik Thompson, Mark's best bud." He extended a hand to me.

"I'm doing fine so far, Mark has kindly offered to help me get around," I replied as I took his hand.

He was going to say something but was interrupted by the bell and as predicted by Mark, Miss Cartwright was on the dot. She dropped her books loudly on the table, which I guess, was a signal for everyone to settle down. She is a picture of what you would expect a typical history teacher would: Unruly hair, thick glasses and outdated clothes. She looks like she can be a part of history herself.

"Good morning, class, I am Miss Eva Cartwright. I will be your second period History teacher. In my class, you are expected to..." she went off into a tirade of expectations from the students and the things that we needed to do in her class. It was monotonous, as if she was doing a monologue, and it's making me feel sleepy. She did not even engage the students. I hope this is not a preview of the class because I might just doze off every day.