Zita & Max

Zita & Max

{Chapter 1}

(left to right, top to bottom) = Max, Alec,

Zita, Millie.

Zita

    I'm new. I'm also Zita. I mean, That's my name. My parents names me Zita because it means 'Little Girl' in some language, which I forget. Anyway, about being new. I recently moved to Toronto, Ontario, Canada, The World (just incase you get confused) and on Monday, I am starting school at Sarah Mitchell Private School. But it's April, so the school year is nearly over.

    The big problem, with my name, is the 'zit' part. The really bad part, is that I have 26 zits on my face, so some people call me 'zit girl'. Trust me, this is not a name that gets you on the road to popularity in 8th grade.

    At my old school, I only had one friend, Alana. Some of the girls who were deemed 'popular' called us 'losers from A-Z', which isn't actually that true, since this one really popular guy used to like me, then freaked out when I got my zits. Okay, maybe I am sort of a loser. Sigh.

(left to right, top to bottom) = Louis, Eric,

Zoë, Maddie.

    Alana and I used to have another friend, named Janet. But then she ditched us to be with the supposedly popular girls, soon becoming one of the most popular girls in our whole middle school (she was the one who invented the 'losers from A-Z')

    Enough about the old me. By moving, I am going to use the school change to my advantage. To re-invent myself. To shake being a loser from A-Z.

 * * *

    The first step to my re-invention, was buying and using pro-active. BAD. IDEA. I had an allergic reaction to the cream, and it gave me a huge rash on my face. So now I have to use this rash cream (that makes my skin look kind of green). It has to be applied twice a day, until my rash goes away. So far nothing, I still have 26 zits, and I start school on monday.

    The second, was to getting braces. I have VERY crooked teeth, and have been begging my parents for the past year for a set of railroad tracks. They finally gave in, and I got my braces yesterday. I still have to get used to brushing my teeth after every time I eat, but I'll manage.

    My third, was spending the majority of my $2,000+ (my allowance from the past 5 years...) on clothing, a cellular telephone, an iPod touch, and lots of makeup, magazines, hair straighteners, curlers, and whatnot. I mean, that's what everyone likes, right?

    My fourth, and final step, was hiding all of my science-fiction television series (x-files, Dr. Who, Star Trek, etc.), stuffed animals, old books, and old clothes, in my closet, and remodeling my new room into this super modern room with light blue walls, black trim, silver furniture, and a four poster bed with lost of pillows.

   I really hope this works.

Max

    He's not popular. He's not dumb. He's Max. Too bad that's me.

    Max. The kid everyone thinks of as the super nerd at the private school in advanced classes who still thinks everything is easy. The kid everyone sees as the rich guy who's parents spoil him and his incredibly *hot* twin sister to an unnatural extent. The kid at the bottom of the social food chain, while his incredibly *hot* sister Zoë is best friends with the most popular girl in the while school. Max. Me. Sigh.

* * *

    Sitting on the bus with Alec is indeterminately different than sitting on the bus with Zoë. Alec sits, and listens to me babbling, occasionally adding to the conversation. Sitting with Zoë is exactly the opposite. She talks. And talks. And, oh yes, TALKS while I try to listen to my iPod, turning up the volume as loud as possible without demolishing my eardrums to drown out the perpetually high pitched obnoxious voice of my twin sister. But now, I no longer have to endure this tiresome routine, seeing as Alec now lives in my area, and Zoë finally discovered I was a loser with a capitol 'L' and suddenly decided to become best friends 'forever' with Millie. Let's just see how long that 'forever' lasts.

    Alec has very big teeth with braces, he wears glasses, has a small but noticeable amount of acne, and so many freckles his pale skin looks tan. The one outstanding feature Alec boasts, is his natural flaming red wavy hair.

    Now about me. The loser Max you've been hearing about. For starters, everyone who goes to Sarah Mitchell Private School is very wealthy, seeing as it costs a very large sum of money to attend. So naturally, my family is. Wealthy, that is. I have so much Abercrombie and Fitch, American Eagle, Aéropostale, and Hollister it kind of sickens me. All I wear are jeans and converse. I have 12 pairs of hightops. One pair in each color, and three patterned pairs. Zoë and I both have braces, and we are both (obviously both) 13, soon to be 14 in a week and a half.

   Moi. An average boy named Max, who wears expensive clothing with words on them, and you wonder why he's not popular? Several obvious reasons. Have you not noticed my rich vocabulary? This is actually how I speak. Except, of course, to pretty girls. To the latter, I speak in a very... immature and slobbery fashion which is apparently not very pleasant to look at. Another would be, that when asked to sit at the 'popular' table, I declined. Basically, I am too smart for my own good. If you don't think that is weird, you obviously don't go to Sarah Mitchell.

    Zoë and I are identical. Well, as identical as a male and female can get. We have blue eyes, 'caramel' colored hair (also know as a blondish beige), straight nose, crooked teeth, and a light sprinkling of freckles. We, however, tend not to make contact at school. The only times I have seen her at school, are during lunch, in the hallways, and in the midst of a gaggle of girls.

    So. It's an average morning. I am on the bus, and we stop at Alec's stop. He gets on, followed by–an angel. Okay, so what if she has black hair? I swear it! She's an angel. Her skin is a bit green, and she does have braces on her teeth, and several zits... okay. Potentially an angel in making.

    Alec sits down next to me, and I watch the angel in making sit down next to Maddie in the third row.

    "Alec!" I hiss. "Who is that?!" I point to her.

    "Oh," he says, "she's my new neighbour. Her name is Zita, and she's in our homeroom. Her parents..."

    I am lost after 'homeroom'. I am definitely not that lucky, am I?

    "... know her last night," I clue in on what Alec is actually saying. "We made them an upside down rhubarb cake." Oh, jeez. Those are delicious. "they live in Logan's old house." Logan is the girl I used to ... for lack of a better word have a crush on. But I swear, Zita is far more beautiful. Is that a miracle house or what?

{Chapter 2}

Zita

   I wake up Monday morning, and freak out. Hyperventilating, I manage to tumble out of bed by 6:45am. I go downstairs, and eat breakfast with my parents before they head into the Law Firm. I choke down a piece of toast, two pieces of bacon, and half a glass of orange juice. I kiss my parents goodbye.

    "Have a fantastic day!" my Mom cries. Alright, Mom. I will attempt at having a fantastic day.

    I get dressed in a new American Eagle t-shirt with blue and grey eagles flying across the front, a grey H&M cardigan, dark blue jeans from Bluenotes, grey, blue, white, and yellow striped legwarmers, and bright blue converse all stars. I straighten my medium length, layered, naturally bluish black hair, and apply my makeup according to an issue of CosmoGIRL! Light grey eye shadow, black eyeliner, light mascara, and a very light peachy shade of lip gloss.

    I pack up my cellular telephone, iPod touch, and notebooks in my new yellow backpack. Then, after brushing my teeth six times, I check my braces for bacon and orange juice pulp.  Nothing. That seems like a good sign.

    I put on my grey tweed spring jacket, lock the door, and charge to the bus stop. I get there just as the bus pulls up. I walk up the steps into the 'yellow submarine' and see a busload of people my age who have the potential of eating me up. I am the ocean explorer, they are hungry sharks. I shiver.

    I (hopefully) inconspicuously slide into a seat next to a girl with reddish tinted golden hair.

    "Hi. I'm Zita," I explain. "I'm new"

    "Cool. Um." she says. Awkward... "My name's Maddie."

    "Cool." Hmm. This conversation isn't really going anywhere... "do you go to Sarah Mitchell?"

    "Yep. I'm in 8th grade." Maddie says.

    "Ditto. Um, sorry if I stole someone's seat." I say apologetically.

    "No, that's okay. I wasn't really saving it for someone."

    "Oh. Okay, then... could I sit here?"

    "Sure," she says, smiling.

    Alrighty. So far, so good.

***

    I get off the bus with Maddie, and we walk to class together. She points out people to avoid, really nice people, etc. We stride into homeroom, and she motions for me to sit in an open desk next to hers. There were two boys sitting behind us, one of which caused a huge scene, falling asleep, the drooling all over his notebook. His name was... Max? I think he has problems...

    Sarah Mitchell Private school, is divided into three sections. 1-Junior kindergarten to second grade, 2- third grade to fifth, and 3- sixth grade to eighth. Group 1 eats lunch in their classrooms, group 2 eats lunch in the rotunda, and group 3, gets the cafeteria to ourselves. I know that doesn't sound like a ton of people to put in one cafeteria, there are actually 350 people in group 3.

    The cafeteria, is also divided into three groups : The unpopular kids (group c), the middle kids (group b), and the popular kids (group a). Maddie is in group b, so I follow her to an empty table she apparently claimed at the beginning of the year, where we consume our edible cafeteria food, and discuss popularity.

   There is this one girl, at the popular table, called Millie, who seemed to be the queen of the kingdom of lunchville.  Apparently, she was asked 'out' by the king, Louis, who's really skinny, has big brown eyes, honey blond hair, a slightly freckled face, and is... extremely cute.

    Millie has curly reddish blond hair that looks dyed, green eyes, plump pink lips, rosy cheeks, waxed eyebrows, and a small nose. She looks slightly short and pixie like. At present, she is wearing a bright yellow polka dot sundress, a cropped blue cardigan, short brown heels (her mom lets her wear HEELS?)  , flower earrings, and perfect makeup, and straight white teeth, and, and, and.... sigh. Plus, she doesn't have greenish skin or 26 zits. No zits at all, in fact. I bet she's not allergic to pro-active...

    I feel a bout of jealousy coming on.

    I start to garnish my salad with Caesar salad dressing. I become so involved in the garnishing of my salad, that I don't notice... Louis walking up to our table.

   "Nice shoes," he says simply.

    I nearly spill the rest of the dressing on myself. Yeuch...

    As I look down to inspect my shirt for salad dressing, I catch a glimpse of orange. On Louis feet. With a label saying 'Chuck Taylor Converse All Stars'. Gasp!

    "Thanks," I manage to choke out, before he turns back to his table.

    "You," Maddie states. "Are bright red. And I don't think it's because of the salad dressing on the crotch of your pants."

Max

    The day just gets better.

    As I stumble into homeroom, I notice a shimmer of black hair. Zita's hair. In front of my desk. On her head. Ohmigosh.

    1st period English goes something along the longs of this:

    "Good morning class. This is Zita Gall. She'll be joining our class. Please make her feel welcome, everyone!" Mrs. Bretegant introduces. Gosh. Zita just look so nervous up there, and it makes me love her even more. Just the way she's blushing, and... oh wow. "Zita, you can take the empty seat in the third row, next to Maddie." She walks down the aisle, and as she approaches, I wave. Alec kicks me. Hard. Oh, well, he knows what to do better than I do.

    I sit up tall in my chair, flick my hair {kinda like Justin Bieber. He's my role model. He attracts all the chicks.}, and put on a dazzling braces filled smile. Just as Zita turns to sit in her sit, I sputter out

    "Heyyy... I'm, uhh, Max. Yeah... hey" Alex kicks me hard, again. To say 'SHUT. UP.'

    Everyone laughs at me. Like usual.

    She and Maddie start whispering back and forth, back and forth, about... something. All I know is, Zita looks... nice. Pretty. Angelic (okay, I really need to stop it with this angel thing).

    Then I loose track of time.

    I'm in this fantasy, where we're at the movies (the 'we' obviously being Zita and me). Then, I wrap my arm around her shoulders. She looks in my eyes, I look in hers, and we kiss passionately. Lip to lip, mouth to mouth, tongue to to-

    "Maxwell Virre, are you asking for a trip to the office?"

    "Huh?" I snap out of it.

    (real life during my fantasy):

    "Max, would you like to answer?" Mrs. Bretegant asks.

    I say nothing.

    "Max, we're waiting,"

    "Mmmlllsmchmch..." I slur, kissing air.

    "Max, are you okay?"

    Drool drips down my chin.

    "Max. Stop this, and answer me."

    "Ooh la-la!" I growl in a sexy way

    (Dreaming Max catches up with the world.)

    "Maxwell Virre, are you asking for a trip to the office?"

    "Huh?"

    "Max, would you care to explain WHAT on EARTH just happened?" Mrs. Bretegant demands sternly.

    "Well," I start feebly. "You see, I was... asleep"

    "I bet you were!" Millie yells across the room, barely able to control her laughter.

    "Millie," wow. Mrs. Bretegant is in a very stern mood today. "Okay then Max, would you care to explain what you were dreaming about?"

    "Not... particularly," I say. I turn a violent shade of red. Millie screeches with laughter. "Shut! UP! Millie!" I holler. This just causes Millie to laugh even harder.

    "Whoa, Max. You know we don't like that kind of language here at Sarah Mitchell. Could you see me at lunch please?" I nod. Well, kind of. My head drops, and I bring it upright again.

    "Thank you," Mrs. Bretegant says, and returns to the lesson she's teaching about a book I read when I was five years old.

* * *

    The rest of the day goes no better.

    In Science, I burn the lab table after accidentally pouring a vial of highly flammable liquid onto the Bunsen burner. I have to dash into the hall, search frantically for a fire extinguisher, pull it from the wall with the help of my imaginary muscles, and zoom back into the class. In the end, I cover half the classroom with the foamy stuff in the extinguisher, including myself and Alec, my lab partner. Thank goodness the school instructs us to bring extra clothing if you are in science, gym, and/or cooking. The sure had their reasons.

    Gym is next. We play dodge ball, which is usually way too easy for me. Not today though. Today, I imagine we're dancing ('we' already explained). I have my arms around air, and I get hit in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I keel over, and drop to the ground just as Alexis Neele comes running to catch the dodge ball. She trips over me, leaving a huge footprint on the back of my red American Eagle shirt. I get sent to the nurse's office. What good this does, I don't know.

    Math, is next. Now, this is a subject that involves brains. Not that science wasn't, but I need to think. Somewhat. We are doing probability, the most ridiculous unit in math, so I measure out the probability of Zita asking me on a date, or her accepting my offer. Very slim chances. Let's say extremely improbable. The bell rings.

    I run as fast as my average length legs will go (which is pretty fast, considering I'm the 100 meter dash champion) to Mrs. Bretegant's class room. Sarah Mitchell doesn't have any rules about running in the middle school division, because since this is a private school, they think we're smart enough to know not to kill ourselves running.

    Thank goodness for that.

    I get to Mrs. Bretegants room, panting hard. Stupid asthma...

    "Hey Max, I won't keep you long, because I know you have more 'important' business in the cafeteria," she says.

    "Okay, thanks Aunt Lydi-whoops! I... hehe, mean Mrs Bretegant," I let slip.

    "Max, please try not to let that get into the open. That I'm your aunt," she hisses. I know It sounds fishy, that people can't know we're related. But there are reasons. For instance, people would think she gave me top marks just because we're related. They wouldn't stop to think that I'm not related to any of the other teachers at our school...

    "Okay. Right. I promise. That just... kinda slipped out of my mouth," I apologize. "I'll make sure no one finds out. Promise,"

    "Okay. Well, about this morning. You were..." she trails off. "... distracted,"

    "Yeah. Um, I didn't get much sleep last night," I lie.

    "Do I need to move you?" She asks. Rats. No hiding anything from her.

    "NO." I practically scream.

    "Okay then," she says "I wont. For now. Just try and focus,"

    "Okaaay... bye," I march out of the classroom.

    About five steps from the classroom, I hear Aunt Lydia call after me:

    "I agree Max. She is very pretty..."

{Chapter 3}

Zita

   Gosh. I'm sure that was a good impression: spilling salad dressing on the crotch of your pants, with a... *cute* guy standing in front of you. Augh.

    Anyway. After lunch, Maddie and I headed down to art class. I'm usually okay at art, but after seeing Maddie's final product of a bowl of fruit, I felt like I'd drawn a bowl of dirty socks.

    Then we had gym. Oh man. I have a separate gym period than Maddie, but that's okay. Because Louis, is in my gym class. 

    We played dodgeball. Normally, I'm not bad at dodgeball. But I was... busy. Watching Louis shout encouraging things at other kids. Apparently he was sick for a while, so he has to sit out of gym. So. As I was not paying attention to the game at all, I got hit right in the face. Then the blood started flowing out of my nose, a steady trickle ready to gross anyone out. Even the guys, who started rapidly backing away. Including Louis. Man.

    "Zita, are you alright?" Ms. Masche asked.

    "Umb, mnot wreeallee," I mumbled while I clutched at my nose, trying to stop the flow.

    "Louis, please take Zita to the nurse's office," she said with a pale face, obviously put off by the sight of all the blood.

    "Um. Okay," Louis said uncertainly, like he didn't really even want to look at me...

    Crap. Great first and second impressions, Zita. First the salad on the crotch and tomato red face, and now the tomato red BLOOD?

    Louis trudged towards the gym doors, and gestured for me to follow. Of course I chose that moment to trip over my own shoes, and stumble clumsily after him.

    We walked. Awkward silence...

    "So. Um," he started awkwardly. "are you... okay?"

    "I feel fine... but my nose is numb," I squeaked back. It's like someone had hit fast forward, and it made me talk fast and high.

    "and you're... Sophie?" he asked.

    "Zita," what does the name Zita have in common with Sophie?! "and you're Louis."

    "Cool," he said, like he really didn't care. Well then, I thought, I guess I won't be added to your list of your fervent admirers...

    Nothing was added to the conversation after that.

* * *

    I unlocked the door to my house after getting off the bus, and stepped through the threshold

Silence.  No one was home yet. Thank goodness.

    I dumped my book bag in the front hall, and ran upstairs to my newly decorated room. It was painted yellow, with a dark hardwood floor, and glass doors leading out to a terrace with an in ground swimming pool, just above the garage. There were doors leading off the terrace to my parent's room, and the guest room, as well as mine. I grabbed my macbook, opened the glass doors, sat on my giant gray and white embroidered pillow, and turned on my skype. My old school ended half an hour before Sarah Mitchell, so Alana was bound to be home by now.

    After logging in, I was ecstatic to see that Alana was online! Yesss!

    I clicked 'call', and waited.    

* * *

    "Zita, come down for supper!" my Mum called from down stairs.

    "Coming!" I yelled. I shut down my mac, and walked down the stairs. I was greeted by the smell of spaghetti, and delicious garlic bread. Yum!

    As soon as I sat down at the kitchen table, my Mum immediately started with the questioning. 

    "So, Zita, how was your first day at Sarah Mitchell?"

    "Um. Good, I guess."

    "Well that's good," Mum replied. "I heard you talking to Alana upsairs... how is she?"

    "Fine. Just fine." I lied. In reality, Alana was doing fine. Finer than she was doing when I was there. In only a few weeks, she had gotten bright golden highlights in her light red hair, started wearing lots of makeup {something neither of us had really done back then...}, and had Marcus Wrick crushing on her. Wow. {Marcus Wrick = Janet's brother and most popular boy in school. WOW} Since the Marcus thing, she's also been sitting with Janet and her posse. Euuchh...

    But, I suppose if you take in to account what Alana must have thought about me...

    Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

    "So, did you remember to brush your teeth after lunch?" my Dad added.

    "Yep," the last thing I wanted was pepperoni stuck in my braces!

    That was the end of the questioning. My parents proceeded to talk about a new car they were thinking of buying. Blah, blah, blah...

* * *

    Several hours after dinner, I got in to my pajamas {an old tee-shirt and some plaid pajama bottoms}. They felt so comfortable, so... me. I went in to the bathroom, and was shocked by my reflection; did I really wear that much makeup? I hastily removed it, washed my face, and applied my green rash cream. I made a face at the mirror. Ick.

    I brushed my aching braces covered teeth. Honestly, these things hurt! Why would I ever think I would want metal in my mouth?

    I hopped in to bed, grabbed my iPod, turned out my lights and listened to my endless Arctic Monkeys playlist until I fell asleep.

Max

I reach the cafeteria with 30 minutes to buy my lunch, sit down with Alec, and scheme. Today on the menu, spaghetti & veggie sauce, pizza, or bruschetta. For dessert, cookies or brownies. I choose bruschetta and brownies and then I pick up some chocolate milk.

    I sit down at the table where Alec is sitting, our usual table by the window. It's nice there. Sometimes we see birds, squirrels, and a couple of times, raccoons and rabbits. It's and enjoyable way to spend your lonely lunch period if you are an outcast such as I.

    'Hey,' Alec says. He's eating the spaghetti and a cookie, plus some chocolate soy milk. Alec has a deadly alergy to dairy products, and it is very difficult to find an ice soy milk cake, even in the heathly isle of the Superstore, which ranges about a kilometer long.

    'Hey,' I say.

    'So... what are you doing for your party next week?' Alec says, obviously reffering to my 'birthday party'. But I mean, c'mon. The phrase 'birthday party' is so lame...

    'Well, I'm inviting all of grade 8. There is going to be music, mostly real music, but however we must mold to our peers, so I have selected a playlist of semi-acceptable popcorn.' Popcorn is a term Alec and I use to describe modern music. It's poppy, and quite corny. 'I mean, since we couldn't get The Strokes, or the Arctic Monkeys, or even Metric, we just have to hope Zoey doesn't hijack the playlist again this year. There will also be lots of delicious food, and dancing, and yes. Just a normal middle school party, I guess. Oh, and it's on friday, which is not even on a school night, so we can have it until very very late.'

    'Oh. Well, my cousin Janet's coming on friday. She's in grade 8 too, would it be okay if she came too?' Alec asks.

    'Sure, whatever,' I say. 'I mean, I don't even know the majority of the grade 8 students here. So one more person I don't know is fine. Plus, I have to share my party - pardon me, our party, with Zoey. Hence the 'our party' part. I'm sure one more girl won't hurt.'

    'Okay, I'll tell her to bring party clothes. Mind you, she thinks every day of her life like it's a party, so it shouldn't be a problem. Anyway, do you know what you're getting from your parents?'

    'Hmm. Either a SMARTboard, or a cream stratocaster. Or maybe both, knowing my parents.' I say, extremely casually, while on the inside, I am exploding with delight! I really, really, really want a SMARTboard to make following online recipes easier, but I can't explain my extreme desire for a cream stratocaster identical to the one Albert Hammond Jr. plays. Of course, I'm terrible at just about every instrument, but I really want to learn guitar so me and Alec can start a band.

    And then, I look up, and the moment is completely spoiled in a fantastic incredible way.

    Zita.

    Just the sight of her makes my brain tingle, my knees shake, and my heart beat out the killer beat of 'The View From The Afternoon'.

    Then I notice the most popular guy in school, Louis (who's best friend also happens to shove my head in lockers whenever he sees me), walking towards her table. Grrr. Not that I can do anything about it...

    They talk...

    Grrr...

    She blushes...

    Grrr...

    and then she gets up.

    She's walking towards our table. Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh. Don't. Hyperventilate.

    Then comes the depressing moment when I realize she's just going to brush her orthodontosized teeth in the girl's bathroom, which inconveniently happens to be right beside our table.

    Dang.

* * *

My mouth still tastes like that garlicky bruschetta, even after brushing my teeth multiple times. Ick. So with my mouth full of the gross aftertaste (and smell) of garlic, I trudge along to my next class, art.

    Just for your information, I am terrible at art. I can make a smiley face look like a rotting plum. Apparently being extremely paranoid about organization has nothing to do with your artistic skills, which is unfortunate, because my lowest mark, an 79, just so happens to be in art.

    So I walk in the door, and automatically see Maddie (due to her flaming red hair). She waves and smiles, then turns to the left to continue her conversation with the girl beside her.

    Zita.

    Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh. Wait a minute, I need to stop using that rediculous phrase.

    Zita also takes Logan's place next to Maddie. Maddie and Logan used to be complete BFFL (best friends for life), or I guess BFUIMTS (best friends until I move to Seattle). I used to be at the desk to the right of Logan, so now I guess I am on the right of my true love...

    I am so obsessed. I really need to just ask her out.

    Mr. Rubin, the art teacher walks in to the room. He, is awesome. He has really dark skin, he's bald, with dark brown eyes, and I've never seen him in a suit before. He even lets us listen to our iPods while we work. 

    'Good afternoon, class,' he says in his Jamaican accent. 'Today, we are going to be continuing on our still life drawings. Just remember, this is your second last class to work on this. After that, it's up to you to work on it at home. This project is due next friday.' He then puts the picture of fruit up on our SMARTboard.

    For the first half hour of class, I spend my time writing this list of when to ask... her out.

1.  Do it at lunch (tomorrow)
2. At the Graduation dance
3. Right Now. This very second.
4. At my party

    Just as I decide the latter seems the most sensible, Mr. Rubin claps a hand on my back and says 'Max, I would like to see more fruit.'

    I blush ferociously, and grab my pencil.

    I look over to see what Maddie has done so far. As usual, it looks like a photograph. Zita's is also beautiful, and that's not just my biased eyes.

    I'm about to compliment her on her great drawing, when I realize there are only 5 minutes left in class. Since I only have one more class to work on this, I quickly scribble the banana down, making it look like something quite innapropriate which I shall not name.

    I am such a loser.