My head's spinning. My hands are shaking. My forehead is feverish. My eyes are blurring. My throat is burning. My chest is tightening. My lungs are dysfunctioning. My legs are jellified. My cheeks are boiling. My arms are deadweight. My kidneys are punctured. My pupils are dilated. My teeth are chattering. My heart isn't beating. My brain is uncanny. My insides are impaired, blunderingly.

    ...This is what I told my step-mother this morning before school. She didn't buy it.

    "I'm. So. Bored." I admit, slapping my hand against my forehead, desperately.

    "I know. You've mentioned that, many times in the past five minutes." Khloe slams her locker door shut, clearly irritated with my perpetual whining.

    "But I'm still bored," I resist.

    "Thanks for keeping me in the loop," she rolls her eyes.

    "You're very welcome, my friend!" I feign perkiness.

    "I would love to be in math right now," she extraordinarily remarks, despite the insanity the comment drips with.

    "How?!" I grip my hair, threatening to tug each clump of the rats nest out of my skull. The dementia, the irrationality, the derangement of the statement. It's incriminating. It's preposterous. A true abomination, calamity, fiasco, a setback to our great country. "How could you possibly say something so atrocious?! How could you possibly mean something so revolting?!"

"Take a chill pill, Adrianne. I like math. Get it through your head." she holds her hands up in an innocent fashion. I can almost see a white flag in her palms.

"I just...I find it so very vile." I stick my tongue out, proving my distaste with a triumphant fart noise.

"You're so immature." she giggles a little bit. Khloe's laugh is contagious, and her perfect smile just makes you feel warm inside.

"It's why you love me," I grin, wrapping a cordial arm around her shoulder.

"Yeah," she flashes her pearly whites, momentarily.

"Now, tell me," I pause to prepare, "Could you do my math homework for me?" I kneel down, and form an engagement box with my hands. "Pretty please?"

"Yes, yes! A million times yes!" she responds in an excited tone, mimicking the cliche rejoinder of a bride to be.

"Aww, thanks, kid." I stand on my tiptoes, in order to reach her head, then I ruffle her hair.

"No, do it yourself, Dumbass." she revises her tone to a sarcastic one.

"Please?" I step in front of her, and pout my lip.

"No." she folds her arms.

"Pleeeeaaase?" I urge.

"No." she rolls her eyes.

'Please?!" my eyes widen, time is of the essence. My math homework is due in an hour!

"My answer will remain." she frowns down at me from her obscure height above mine.

"What if I promise to get you some extra practice math sheets, by the end of today?" I smirk, knowing she is defeated.

"Why didn't you say that in the first place? Hand over the paper!" she jumps, probably waiting eagerly for the days end.

"I don't get you," I squint my eyes at her, as she takes a seat on a hallway bench.

"Don't get what?" she presses her lips together, anticipating the worst.

"You want to do math." I reply, blandly, looking down at my nails.

"We just did this," she moans.

"I know," I grin.

"Save it for next period," she smiles, and takes the math sheet I hold out to her.

"We should go on strike," my mind wanders randomly.

"For?" she taps her pencil against the bench.

"Homework," I smile at the thought of no more homework.

"Uh," she pauses, "No."

"We could have a bonfire," I begin.

"Why would we have a bonfire?" she raises an eyebrow at the math sheet.

"To burn our books and papers..." I roll my eyes, and add an obvious, "Duh,"

"Like I said before: no." shot down again.

"Don't tell me you want to keep homework," fear begins to contract my heart rapidly.

"It helps us in the long run, Adriann." the pencil scrapes an answer into the paper. '256=z'.

"Yeah, but what if just class work helped us in the long run," my eyes light up at the thought.

"That'd be a miracle." she sighs.

"Yeah it really would," I exhale, disappointment flooding me, briefly. "I mean, like any of us are going to use this crap. We should all take a career test, and if we get something mathy, then we should have to learn the stuff, but if not, they should leave us alone." Huffing, I fold my arms, leaning over to watch Khloe at work.

"You know those career tests are a load of bull, right?" she shakes her head at the paper, distastefully.

"So I'm not going to be a sewage worker?" I ask, really believing that test to be quite accurate, after what it assigned me.

"Well...more accurate for some people," she mutters.

"I heard that," I put my hands behind my head, and lay across the bench in the hallway. I rest my head on my backpack, and spread my feet across Khloe's lap, under the binder.

"Y'know, it's hard to do your homework, when you won't shut up?" she jabs me, playfully.

"Shouldn't you be done by now? This isn't rocket science," I contradict, wagging a finger, defiantly.

"You're right, I do rocket science. On the other hand, you're learning pre-algebra. I didn't even know there was a possible way, for a tenth grader to take pre-algebra." she seems to be really wondering how I'm in such an idiot class. Not my fault. Well it is...but that's beside the point.

"I'm breaking down barriers," I blandly respond, yawning.

"You really are," Khloe looks up from the sheet.

"Listen, you better hurry up on the math, both sides are due in like fifty minutes. And I'm supposed to be enjoying a lovely lunch right now, that someone forgot to bring money for." I stand up, stretching after my relaxing five minutes.

"I really shouldn't be buying you lunch everyday," she observes, her comment filled with perturbation.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," I grin.

"Believe it or not, I said that I shouldn't." she remarks, sarcastically.

"I'll hear what I wanted to hear." I smile ear to ear, grabbing my backpack.

"We'll see how far that gets ya," she snorts.

    "You're gonna go far kid," I quote one of my favorite songs, written by 'The Offspring'.

    "I don't get how you like heavy metal," she responds.

    "I don't get how you like math or school," I retort, triumphantly. I am victorious in this two sentence burn-off.

    "Touche," she replies, applauding.

    "Seriously though," I reciprocate the talk we have had so many times.

    "Not again..." she rolls her eyes.

    "I really don't get it, I mean how could you possibly li--" she cuts me off.

    "Three whole times! We've done this three times in ten minutes!" Khloe begins her rants.

    "It's a daily tradition," I whine.

    "Okay! New rule, you can bring it up twice a day. Choose wisely,"

    "Fine." I respond.

    "What are you doing? Are you about to leave me here to do your homework?" she begins to tiff.

    "God you're acting like we're married, I'm getting water." I chuckle.

    "You better come back," she throws her pencil at me.

    "I will, I will!"I put my hands up, as I bend down to pick up the pencil.

    "I didn't think that through," she sighs, "Toss it back,"

    "You'll have to do something for me," I smile.

    "Like what?" she inquires, an unfair assumption forming in her mind. Though, she probably isn't wrong to expect what she is expecting.

    "Like my English essay," I shrug, tossing the pencil back at her.

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THANKS TO MY FRIEND FOR LENDING ME THE PHOTO OF HER. SO PRETTY I HAD TO ASK YOU TO BE KHLOE  :) BE SURE TO COMMENT AND VOTE IF YOU'RE ENJOYING THE STORY. MAYBE EVEN A FOLLOW? WHO KNOWS. OKAY BYE NOW