I tap my pencil on my desk trying to figure out the homework problem I am working on in math. Stick me with a knife right now and put me out of my misery. (15-45)+2a/32=__, who would use this equation on real life is what I would like to know. Explain that to me and I might do the problems.
“Hey Ronnie what question are you on?” Danni whispers next to me. I turn my head to face her. I yawn, “seven, why.”
“Really? I’m on seventeen, I’m almost done!” She says happily. I roll my eyes up, ‘Woopty do. Thanks for sharing.’
I look back at my sheet and right down the problem again. Think, you know this, it’s simple. Order of operations, parentheses, exponents, multiply, division, addition then subtraction, simple.
I am almost done with number ten when the classroom phone rings. Everyone stops what they’re doing to watch the teacher pick it up then go back to their work. Classmates are weird, you show up late to class one day everyone looks at you like you’re a criminal, teacher leaves the room everyone automatically starts talking. What is it with classmates? I sigh and go back to doing my work. Halfway done when . . .
“Uh, Ronnie,” my teacher, Mrs. Barter, calls on me, “You need to come with me.” I feel my body tenses up with little fear as I stand up and admit to myself my classmates are watching me like hawks. I follow my teacher out into the hallway and she shuts the door. “Ronnie, go down to the office, police are there waiting for you.”
“What, why?” I ask paranoid. “I didn’t do anything, I sewer, and I would never do anything that bad for the police to come!”
“Ronnie, they are not here to arrest you, they are here to take you across the street to see your sister.”
My heart half sinks half relaxes as I hear that the police are not here to arrest me, but what happened to my sister. I hesitate for a minute then nod to my teacher. I walk down the hallway till I come to the schools office. My school is practically one long hallway with classrooms on each side. One part of the school holds kindergarten to fifth grade while the other part hold the middle school classes like seventh, sixth and eighth grade.
As I walk into the office two police men are sitting on a couch in the front of the office. They both stand up when they see me. “Are you Ronnie Carter?”
“Uh, yes.” I say. One suddenly comes over and points my arms straight out. “What are you doing?”
“Hold still.” He says as he pats me down from top to bottom. I want to squirm away from this man but I know better, angering a cop only makes things worse.
“Is she clean?” The other cop asks.
“Yes, John, she’s clean.” The other one asks standing up wiping his hands. He’s shorter than the one already standing up, John, I guess.
YOU ARE READING
American Assassins
AdventureIn the future of North America a group called the Unions have taken control of Canada and are getting stronger by the minute. Although they are trying to conquer the rest of North and South America by force, the United States has decided to fight b...
