Prologue
I look up and my eyes fall on the source of the voice. He is gesturing with his hands as if telling an animated story. That boy has been the bane of my existence since we started tenth grade two months ago. He talks during class and doesn’t care much for the rules or our English teacher. I have nicknamed him gesture arms. He is infuriating because I have always loved English. The chance to write and challenge myself and then get a grade. A good grade mind you.
I hear the teacher, Mrs. Levet, say that it is time for the class to get new seats. I try my hardest to not jump out of my seat. At the beginning of the year, we got seats in alphabetical order. This landed me by some girls who love to talk about everything except our assignments. I don’t want to say I am one of ‘those’ kids, you know the ones who love their homework and being a good student, but I am. Mrs. Levent has me move to the front table with 2 other kids then she puts the last kid at the table. Gesture arms. There are a few things that could be worse than this moment. Maybe being pantsed in the hall or biting into a rotten tuna fish sandwich, but right now this is the worst situation. Yay Clara
