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|State of Shock (standard:adventure, 10954 words)|
|Author: methane propaloptatrine||Added: Nov 06 2001||Views/Reads: 2121/1914||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|4 kids have a very hectic few weeks because of a mysterious stalker...|
It was Friday and we couldn't wait to get out of school. Phil, Eddie, Grip and I were supposed to meet up at the bus stop by Greg's house. He was having one of his party's. Greg was rich and he loved to rub it in. He would have parties at his house almost every Friday. We only came to few of them. Today, we had nothing better to do, so we all just decided to go. Besides, I think Jessica was going to be there. I'll tell you about her later. It was 2:55. We only had five minutes left, but it seemed like an eternity. I was just watching the second hand on the clock go around and around, listening to Mr. Clapse's nasally drone. He was saying something about x and y, but I couldn't care less. He looked over at me asked me what the root was. "The root is, well you have to take the number and--" Riiiiing! Whoa. I got lucky. Mr. Steven rolled his eyes, and I got my butt out of that room. I swear I couldn't have told you the answer to that question for a million dollars. Today I was glad to run out of there, but normally I wouldn't be. Everyday, Mr. Claspe would teach and teach us, trying to make some sort of difference in our lives in his day's lessons. Everyday we would run out of there, dreading the next day. I know that that is just what kids do, but it seemed to eat away at him inside. But, then again, he did come in everyday. He must have been reaching someone, because he surly didn't come in for the paycheck. He never really got angry with anybody, and he never threatened to quit all the time, like Ms. Stevens. Ms. Stevens was always telling us not to be surprised if she didn't come in tomorrow. We always that hoped that she wouldn't come in, but, sadly, it was always an empty threat. In all the millions of years that she had been teaching at my school, I think that she had taken only one sick day or something. She had one of those pristine records that nobody could defy. The fact that she was so old helped. I don't think that any of the other teachers could have lived long enough to be teaching as much Ms. Stevens. She was the biggest spazz you have ever seen. I think that she hated every last one of us, even Jeff Greene, who was every other teacher's pet. Whenever anyone moved a muscle, she would tell him or her to stop squirming. If you talked out of turn, she would yell at you. Her favorite thing to do was to yell at you even if you were talking in turn. She would call on you and ask a question like, "Richard, what is the capital of North Dakota?" and I would say, "Um, Bismarck?", and she would say, "Richard Harris, you will speak when spoken to! Now will someone please tell me the capital of North Dakota! I swear I don't even know why I come here anymore. If I'm not here tomorrow, don't come looking for me." Oh, you won't have to worry about that, Mrs. Stevens. Another one of her trademarks was to call out the wrong name when she was yelling at someone. Mike could throw a paper ball, and she would yell at Phil, and then have that nasty "teacher grudge" that some teachers seem to have for the rest of the day after they have yelled at someone. Phil loved the teacher grudge. He hated school, and was all about the anarchy/insubordination thing. He loved to get a teacher pissed of in the morning, so they would be keeping their eye on him all day. Every time they saw him, he would do something to provoke them. It would be something like raising his voice, or dropping all his books, or talking about how it would suck to be old. It was always something that would get the teacher mad, but that the teacher couldn't do anything about. Grip liked to skateboard and snowboard and ski, and all that good stuff. He hung out with the skateboarders, but mostly with us. As for me, I don't know. I did a little skateboarding, and all of us would piss of a teacher every now and then. I didn't really have any sort of stereotypical identity. I'm glad I didn't have one. A lot of people stayed away from Phil, and whenever someone approached Grip, they would just start babbling about skateboarding. But with me, nobody knew what to expect, and they couldn't tell what I was like until they actually sat down to meet me. I liked that. The three of us--Grip, Phil, and I--all knew each other for a long time, since pre-school. We have known Eddie for about a year, and we still haven't quite figured him out. Grip met Eddie in 7th grade. He was always sort of quiet. Grip and Eddie were like two of those kinds of people that you only see in TV shows. Grip was the talker, and Eddie would always whisper something into Grip's ear when he wanted to say something, and Grip would say it. I always thought that maybe talked his head off when he wasn't around us, but I never saw him do it. Anyway, we were supposed to meet at the bus stop by Greg's house. Phil and I live next door to each other, so we went on the bus together. Grip lived about 2 miles away, so he got on a different bus. Eddie never told us where he lived. Phil and I got off the bus, and we saw Eddie waiting for us. He was sitting on a bench, reading an E-Book. An E-Book! He loved that stupid Palm Pilot of his. A minute later, Grip showed up. He said hi and sat down on the bench next Click here to read the rest of this story (720 more lines)
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