Author's Note: This is my first time writing something for Snowboard Kids. Please be kind. I'm stressed out right now. Just for the record, I like short chapters:)

"What are you talking about?"
"You heard me."
"You're so full of--"
"She's coming."

Slash and I looked up to see our English teacher returning to her junior class after what we assumed was a little Ibuprofen popping break. Junior year's great. Upperclassmen. Cocky.

And stuck with us for another year.

I scribbled a rather immature doodle of dear Mrs. White and passed it to my best friend who laughed a little too loudly.

"Michael?" She asked, indicating my friend. "Maurice?" Her eyes narrowed in my direction. "Is there a problem?"

I flushed. Damn straight there's a problem when you call me that!
I didn't say that, of course. I respect her too much.
Really.
Sort of.
Define "respect".

"But of course not, Mrs. White. Why ever do you ask?" Slash answered, ever the smooth talker.
"I was wondering if you would permit me to give the class the assignment for this weekend, sir."
"Feel free, milady, though there's really no reason to call me 'sir'."

Her lips quirked upward at that. Slash could charm a charging bull. Dressed in red. Blindfolded.

"Well then," Mrs. White continued, "You're going to write an essay, but one I'm sure that you'll enjoy."

Needless to say, there was a lot of eye rolling on that one. No one liked her stupid 25 point weekend essays.

"It's just an account of how you met your best friend and why they mean so much to you." She beamed at us all. "Won't that be fun?"

Oh so very.

I shifted uncomfortably.

This was going to be tough for a pretty major reason and it wasn't so much my writing skills for once.

The real reason was sitting right beside me.

I hate school.