i don't want to talk about it.

yara got kicked out of mr. rhodes' class again today. i had to escort her to the student services office. i don't like uncomfortable silence, so i started talking. what happened, yara? nuh-ting. all you have to do is be quiet, and you can pass the class easily. silence. i hate that stupid bitch ass. who? rhodes! yara, there's only a week of school left. you won't have him next year. if you don't like a teacher, tell your counselor you want to switch classes. but the truth is, she probably hates all her teachers. and they probably hate her back because of all the attitude she throws at them. i told her once that she shouldn't be writing on the white board, to which she responded, you're not the teacher. other than that, though, she hasn't given me any real flack. maybe because earlier on in the year i expressed interest in her wannabe-gangsta photos she took of herself and her friends.

i came to school wearing the same clothes from yesterday. i was too lazy to change, too lazy to do laundry. so far, nobody's said anything.

steven likes to ask me everyday what i'm going to eat for lunch. some days i just bring an apple, or a banana. today i only had a small package of crackers. that's all? he asks. yes, i say. why? i don't know. that's no enough, he says. i know, but what are you gonna do? i say. i am overtly trying to get him to invite me to his house to eat noodles. that's what he eats everyday, and i'll bet they're good. he laughs at my small package of crackers, as he always does, and we part ways.

time for mr. cramer's class. should be a riot.

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