Chapter 1 - Part 2
God, I hate English.
John sat with his head held in one hand, elbow on his desk. His other hand held his pencil, which he frequently tapped on the desk. He stared at the test sheet, occasionally marking the circles on the Scantron.
Mrs. Rosenberg, the English teacher, sat at her desk, going over her papers. She was a very short woman, standing just over four feet. She had short, dark hair, and her Spanish background defined her facial features.
John liked her. She was a teacher who'd make fun of you with ease, and throw things at you if you fell asleep. She even hit a sleeping guy with a rubber chicken once. That was hilarious.
After an hour and a half, the bell sounded for the first final to end. John breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't get in all the answers, but he felt he got enough to pass.
He handed in the test, told Mrs. Rosenberg goodbye, and headed towards the band room.
In the commons, Pete caught up to him.
"Hey, how'd you do?"
John shrugged. "Good enough, I guess."
Pete shook his head a little. "I still don't get how you could possibly fail English. I mean, you speak it!"
"Hey John, ready for the tests?"
John looked over his shoulder to the source of the new voice. A boy that was a little bigger, much more built. He had longer brown hair and green eyes. He was wearing an "Ozzy" shirt and black cargo pants.
"Yeah Marc. Just can't wait to take it." The sarcasm was obvious enough for a dog to get it.
Marc grinned. "Come on. Broken hand can't hurt ya too bad. I mean, trombones don't even need fingers!"
John shook his head. "Marc, Marc, Marc..." He grinned a little. "Sometimes, you just don't get it. Just cause I don't need the fingers doesn't mean I don't want the fingers"
Marc laughed a little. "Yeah, yeah, complain, complain. Come on. Let's go before we're late."