Battle Of The Wits (gone wrong)

'I stand corrected.'

The horrified gasp of my Afrikaans teacher sets the scene. Well actually, I wouldn't say gasp. It was more of a sigh and a couple of "disappointed in you" looks that she sent in my direction. I shift in my seat as my classmates turn to see which unfortunate soul would face the lion this time. That soul is obviously me. She taps a finger on my book which lays open, it's blank page staring up at her like a white flag of mercy.

"Ag nee man. Waarom het jy nie jou huiswerk gedoen nie?," she asks in suppressed anger.

"Uhhh...Ek het my huiswerk...vergeet... gister dag?," I try to reply.

Everyone in the room groans. Why?, because they know that I know the least Afrikaans out of all of them. Maybe even the whole grade. Heck, a grade three infant probably knows more Afrikaans than I do.

A few learners snicker and hide their faces in their textbooks. I can feel my face growing hot in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry I didn't do my homework ma'am."

"Say it in Afrikaans Jim."

I sigh in discomfort and tap my fingers on my desk, "Ek jammer is dat my werk is nie kla nie."

Half the class starts laughing and all I want to do is crawl under my desk and die.

The teacher doesn't let up, "Try again Jim."

I swallow nervously and try not to look around to see if people are watching my suffering. What's the point? They probably are anyways.

"Ek is jammer dat ek nie my huiswerk gedoen nie, Juffrouw."

"Jy het mooi gepraat Jim. I hope that you continue to do so, but in writing, with your work," She mercifully ends off.

"Yes ma'am. I'll try."

"You haven't done your homework in two days. This means one more time and you've got detention."

I cough in surprise, "What?"

The teacher raises her eyebrow, "You heard me. So make sure to do it this time or there will be consequences."

I open my mouth to make a retort of some kind but think better of it, "Yes ma'am."

"Good."

The teacher moves past me and continues her homework inspection. Like it's a bad thing I didn't do my homework. To me Afrikaans and Greek look like the same language. I literally can't read either of them. I grumble and grab a pencil. I doodle on the corner of my workbook as I wait for the lesson to end. Our teachers check our work at the end of a lesson, which means that, thankfully, I don't have to endure any more of that horrid "Letterkunde" work.

The bell screams and everyone gets up at once.

The teacher reminds us of the pages for our homework as we all try to escape the room. I make it out and breath in relief. I find it harder to breathe in certain lessons than others. You probably do to, if you're really honest with yourself. It's just a mental thing I guess.

If you're wondering why I only chose to start the chapter at the end of the lesson, then shut up and be grateful. I mean, would you have liked to sit in that 'utterly boring' lesson with me and listen to my teacher talk about a language that you probably know nothing about? Thought so. You should be thanking me, especially now that it's break.

Yup, I skipped two whole lessons (Math and Life Orientation). Just for your sake. You're welcome by the way. Back to the present, I walk to the next lesson that I have after break (trying not to think about my two strikes in Afrikaans class) and I dump my bag next to the wall. It's the first one there this time. Not that that matters in the slightest. It must mean I have nothing to do in between lessons, which causes me to have no time that I can waste as a result.

I'm overthinking again. (shakes head and kicks foot against wall.)

Guess I have to find Roy now. Where is that idiot? I search for a few minutes before I finally see him walking towards the outside gates that lead to the field. I catch up with him and succeed in almost tripping him from behind. He stumbles forward and lets out a string of foul words before he catches his balance and straightens. A nearby teacher gives him a deathly glare and we both speed up our pace. When we are finally outside he turns to give me a piece of his mind.

"You ass," he growls.

"Hehe. About that," I start.

"How about you walk with both your eyes open next time?"

I punch him in the arm, "How about you walk with both 'feet' next time?"

We carry on walking past the benches and up to the field. Roy slaps a tree on the edge of the field as we walk past it and spins 180 degrees so that he's now walking backwards, looking at me without having to stop.

"So has Mr Ivan given your class that history project yet?," he asks.

"I'm sorry. Project?," I reply in disbelief.

"Yep," Roy confirms, drawing out the 'e'.

You see what I have to go through at this school? Complete torture. Can't even catch a break for one day! (mutters in self pity and runs hand through hair.)

"Why do you always pretend to be talking to absolutely nobody?," Roy demands.

"What do you mean?," I ask stupidly.

"You like, look up at the sky and shake your head and stuff."

"Nah man, stop talking bull."

"You went through a 'superhero' phase three years ago too. What did you call yourself?"

"Shut up dude," I warn not-so-threateningly.

"I think it was 'The Amazing Jim'. Wasn't part of that name already coined though?"

"Stop. Asking. Questions," I say slowly in annoyance.

"You're so weird," Roy continues, totally ignoring me.

We take out our left over sandwiches and dig in. All of a sudden I want to go home. My energy for sitting in classes has gone from an automatic 45% all the way down to a 11%. The story of my life. Well at least the day is almost halfway finished, sort of.

'I miss my bed,' I think to myself sadly.