Sophie's PoV:
Reaching outside, the pale iridescent hues of the sun stream down, illuminating my skin, without actually providing any warmth.
But that's just the weather of November, where the giant pulp of light decorates the sky for ornamental purposes only.
I set my bag beside me, taking out my notebook and a basic black pilot inked pen.
Sighing in anticipation, I await for the thoughts to strike my mind. What do I want to write about?
Several moments of utter disdain and indecisiveness pass achingly slow. I realize that maybe today isn't the brightest for me.
Huffing, I close my most precious possession, and gently tuck it into my backpack again, throwing the pen somewhere in there too.
If writing can't solve whatever matter going on inside my brain, then I resort to music.
They say that music is best; right after silence, when it comes to describing the indescribable.
Plugging my white earphones in, I take out my phone from my pocket, connecting to my playlist and press shuffle.
When the song that comes on is one I'm not in the mood to listen to, I skip it, hoping an almighty power derives the shuffle to a more suitable song.
When that doesn't happen, and again a song I'm in no mood for listening to at the moment blasts through the earphones, I sigh.
Shuffle, no offense or pun intended, but you seriously need to be reshuffled.
Looking at my phone, I can't say I'm surprised to see that lunch break is almost over. Grabbing my stuff quickly, I assemble myself and go inside in preparation for the next satanic class.
As I'm checking the wall watch that hangs gloomily on one of the walls, I almost thank god that the school day would be over in about two hours and a half.
But then I'm reminded of my punishment.
Damn you detention. And damn whoever decided that school was good enough of a system to teach kids instead of building depressed broken kids.
Ok, enough with my rant, I enter the classroom right before the teacher enters and I applaud myself for showing up on time for once.
<<•>>
After two agonizing hours of algebraic trigonometry -like that's what counts in the real world- I'm finally dismissed to go serve my sentence.
Comparing school with prison, ha.
At least in prison you'd have to commit a crime to be sent there.
Opening class 24 -after school detention class- I'm faced with Mr. Sanders; one of the most strict teachers in the whole staff.
As if this day couldn't get any better, I spot the reason behind my agony.
He's seated in a wooden chair at the back, on his phone before taking notice of my presence.
As if a cloud of heavy rain poured right down his head, his expressions shift 180° and the indifference changes to feelings of discontent and a hard glare is directed in my direction.
"Miss. Edwards, long time no see" Mr. Sanders greets me and I smile in malice. There are lots of reasons why I hate detention, and he's at the top of that list.
I nod in comprehension, totally discarding his attempt at riling me into responding with a sarcastic comment that will land me into a full week of detention.
YOU ARE READING
Cynical Souls
Tínedžerská beletriaCOMPLETED✅ Two high school teenagers finding themselves, analyzing this ever changing world, and building love. This is the type of love you wish you found in high school but probably know way too well that it only exists as fiction. Today I'm turni...
