After a night’s rest, I was going back to the lake. I then hopped out of bed, and got my stuff on. I walked toward the door, but I stopped when; “Where are you going?” Said my mom. “I am going to the lake.” I said, hoping she’d say go ahead, but; “No, you are going somewhere where you should straighten up and act right, St. Jiro’s School.” She said. “What the heck? St. Jiro’s School? Why should I go to that living torture chamber?” I said. St. Jiro’s school is the worst possible school ever. “Too bad, if you’re going to be bad, here you go, but you have to go, but I’m not taking you, now best get to bus 20.” She said. I was angry, this school is the worst, but I’m not talking from experience though. A kid on our street killed his father just days after he gone to that school, and all the rumors got the best of me. Before I was sent to boot camp or something like that, I left to go get on the bus. At this school, the punishment is real. Each time you do something bad, you get one extra month of boot camp. One guy I heard of had about three years of bootcamp and was still going. This school thankfully only lasts a year. I stayed on the corner, waiting for bus 20. Then with a loud horn, was the bus at the end of the street. I waited for it to come my way. The windows were open on the bus, and the kids inside threw trash out of the bus, attempting to target me. “Bus 20, alright, I’m ready.” I said acting confident. The bus stopped, and I got in. No one offered a seat, but I found an empty one at the back. “We’re leaving, best you sit down.” Said the bus driver. I sat down, but with nothing to do, so I dozed off for a bit. After the bus ride, here I was, the living torture house. The halls were dirty, the water fountains were smashed open, and most of the classroom doors had graffiti on them, except for one. I don’t know why, but it was either that teacher was the nicest teacher there, or the meanest teacher there. I looked inside, but no teacher. “Hey, get to the cafeteria!” Said a custodian inside. I walked away from that classroom, and headed to what looked like a cafeteria. There was trash and food all over the place. There was even ketchup on the walls, or that could’ve been blood, but I don’t know the twisted history of this school. The breakfast line was short, so was I lucky? I walked toward the breakfast table, as I heard voices near me; “This cafeteria food is junk!” Said one kid. “Who’s that, he looks new, but not hot.” Said a girl. I felt a little less motivated to go get breakfast now, but I went to go get it anyway. Brick-hard bread? Water-like milk? Artificial fruit? Are they trying to kill me? No sign-in? This school really is weird, it reminds me of juvey. I sat down at an empty table, everyone around looked at me. I gave a scary glare, and they looked away. I attempted to eat the rock-hard bread but it was useless to even be eating here. I threw my stuff away and headed toward my new classroom, and what I learned is that the same room I was at earlier, is my class for the whole day, everyday ‘till the end of school. The teachers name was Mrs. Blanca, and she kind of looked nice, but I was not going to let my guard down.