Of course it had to be French. Out of all lessons to have on a Monday morning, it had to be French.

Don't get me wrong, the subject is fine and gets me a grade in the end but the people in here... God, I hate them. Out of all of them the only one I can stand is the teacher; Ms Hudson.

"James!" A slightly squeaky voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

I blink to see Molly Hooper stood in front of my small desk at the very back of the room. I like to sit here, away from those idiots.

"Did you hear?!" She continues when I don't reply.

I raise an eyebrow, wanting to go back to staring blankly out of the window and being antisocial. Molly is a sweet girl, she really is, but I'm just not in the mood to interact with humans today.

She sighed, a look of exhaustion swept across her face, revealing how unimpressed she is at my poor attention span.

"I'm guessing that's a no. Ms Hudson's going on maternity leave! She won't be in for the rest of the school year as of next week!"

My eyes widen in surprise and shock. Ms Hudson is the only thing that makes this class bearable. She won't be in until next September, bearing in mind that it's only mid November at the moment. This means I'll have to live a whole year with just these twats around me, which is surely going to end up in me brutally murdering everyone or myself.

But wait... Isn't she like fifty?!

"Forty-seven."

"What?" I, again, look up at Molly.

"You asked if Ms Hudson is like fifty. She's forty-seven."

Did I really just say all of that out loud?

"Yes." Molly answers what I thought was an unspoken question.

I should probably start paying attention to what I'm saying. I realise then that I hadn't spoken for some time, that I know of, and Molly is looking at me worryingly. She's probably the closest thing I have to friend, I should really make more of an effort.

I'm a terrible excuse for a friend.

After giving a gentle sigh, I offer Molly a small smile. She smiles back straight away and her cheeks go a little pink, obviously swept off her feet by my charms.

Maybe if she was a guy... No, not even then. It sounds mean but she's far too sweet for me to drag her into my depressing cloud called life.

I should get back to the main point; Ms Hudson. Hold on, how did I not notice she was pregnant? Glancing towards the front of the room, I see Ms Hudson and sure enough there's a very large, visible lump underneath the fabric of her dress.

A wave of sadness rolls over me. I don't want her to go. Anyone who takes her place will be terrible in comparison.

"Shit!" I suddenly curse, much to Molly's disapproval. "That means we have the replacement for our oral exam in two weeks." I explain in a burst of panic to the frowning girl, my Irish accent coming out more with the emotion in my voice.

"Yeah, obviously. That's what everyone's complaining about." Her previous smile had once again turned into an annoyed expression and she crossed her arms in my direction.

I glance around the room with my ears listening carefully, and sure enough, the oral exam is the only subject I can hear people talking about. It's strange how concerned they all are about this exam, considering how the majority of the time nobody pays any attention to French. One would think that they'd actually work hard if they wanted to get a good grade that badly.

Noticing all of this, I let out a groan of annoyance, to which Molly replies with questioningly raising an eyebrow.

"D-Don't worry." I stutter out whilst shaking my head, trying to hold in the burning anger.

I've always had this thing with my temper, and when I don't manage to control it.. things get pretty ugly. There has been several occasions which resulted in people going to hospital simply because they had angered me to no extent. It sounds melodramatic and crazy, but... I guess that's just who I am.

Ms Hudson claps her hands and orders everyone to sit back down and listen, for once they all do as she says and rush back to their seats. I take a deep breath in and roll my eyes. Molly observes me for a second before smiling and waving as she wanders off to her assigned seat. I stretch my lips out into a slight smile then sigh in relief once she's to the other side of the room. Interacting is exhausting.

"I know that a lot of you are quite upset to see me leaving," Ms Hudson looks around the room as she speaks. "but I will be back in September. Also I have already met your substitute for the year and I can assure you that he is a very intelligent and nice young gentleman, you'll all like him very much. And he is quite a looker, if I do say so myself, so control yourselves girls!"

The males in the room then begin to nudge and wink at nearby girls, whom just scoff in disgust and look away.

I also scoff. Ms Hudson's definition of a 'young looker' is very different to our generation's. He's probably just some middle-aged perv who just happened to get the interest of our teacher.

A student raises there hand once the commotion had settled. "What about the oral exam?"

"That will continue as normal. Like I said, the substitute is very intelligent so I'm sure you'll manage to do just fine with him."

Frustrated moans fill the room, and once again, everyone begins to complain to themselves about this new arrangement. A while later, the bell goes off, indicating the end of first period. As quickly as fuss began, it came to a halt as the class stood up, grabbed their bags, and rushed out of the room. Just as I'm about to leave, Ms Hudson stops me at the door.

I take a step back, allowing the last student to scuttle out of the room. She sends me a quick look of pity, obviously thinking I'm about to get an ear full of one of Ms Hudson's lectures about work ethics and generally giving a shit during her lessons.

Resisting the temptation to smirk at the stupid student as she passes, I keep my eyes away from her annoying face and even politely close the door behind her before turning to face Ms Hudson.

It's practically impossible for me to not smile at that kind face. So I do, I beam at the frail looking teacher.

"James" She starts and my smile drops.

If this were a moment where she says goodbye to her favourite student, she would have called me Jim. She's the only person, other then my mother, that I allow to call me Jim. To other students it's either James, Moriarty or a right hook.

Ms Hudson puts her little hand on my shoulder then, bringing me out my potentially destructive train of thought.

"Let's cut to the chase, you've been worrying over speaking in front of me for this test. So, now, I'm worrying over how you'll cope with Mr Holmes- that's the name of my sub, by the way" She cracks a smile at the end, but the tone and overall message is still on a serious note.

I nod, frowning a little because, as always, she is completely right. I have been stressing over speaking in front of her, and this lady is basically my best friend. If I couldn't do it with my best friend, how the hell am I going to survive with some young, supposedly intelligent, substitute teacher?

"Jim, I want you to try with your new teacher. You don't make friends easy, you spend most of your lunches with me and even then you fail to notice things" She places the hand previously on my shoulder on her baby bump. Briefly, I find myself wondering who the hell she had sex with to get that, seeing as she wasn't married or in a relationship.. "So, for me, while I'm gone, please, please, please, try to be friends with Mr Holmes"

"I.. uh.." What the hell am I supposed to say now? I want nothing to do with this guy, I just want to get on with my work and out of this shithole of a town. Maybe start up a business, climb the ladder of success, make fun of the people who are scared of me and have fun torturing the idiots.

Do I need friends for any of that? No.

"I promise to try" I say with a smile in the end.

Satisfied with my answer, Ms Hudson pulls me in for a quick hug (which I don't return) before shooing me out of her class with a late slip to explain to my History teacher why I'd be entering his lesson fifteen minutes late.

Fifteen minutes? God, I need to stop spacing out.

After another two minutes, or what I though was two minutes, of wondering who put the bun in Ms Hudson's oven, I end up walking into History over half an hour late.

Note to self: Buy a fecking watch.