Monkey and Detention

What’s bad about a Chemistry lesson, it’s when the teacher decides not to bring us to the lab, where we can mix around the harmless explosives. What’s worse about a Chemistry lesson, it’s not going to the lab and staying in the class to listen to theoretical lectures. What’s worst, it’s not going to the lab, learning new theories, AND, it’s a Monday, where we get three periods of Chemistry. But what’s horrendously yucky-mucky above all, it’s the worst, PLUS a hot weather.

“Psst!”

I continue tapping my pen against the desk restlessly, ignoring Gregory.

“Psst psst psst!”

I lean forward on my desk, angling my head towards the monkey who’s a table away from me. He mouths, “Dunkin.”

Zac, who’s sitting between us, passes me a paper. I nod knowingly and scan the votes written on the paper.

1. Subway (11)
2. Dunkin’ (9)
3. Burger King(9)
4. Which Wich(5)

They call it Monday After-School Trampoline. It’s a day where, right after the bell rings, the whole class will spend the afternoon together, visiting the food places and malls and parks in throngs.

……

I have no idea how this is related to a trampoline as well.

After giving my vote to Burger King, I ball up the paper and toss it back to Gregory, who, by all appearances, is the chairman of our Monday After-School Trampoline.

Her back still to us, Professor Downey continues to scribble on the board while explaining some overly complicated principles to herself. Yeah, to herself. Since no one’s listening. I scowl at the formulas on the board for two seconds before giving up completely.
Zac chucks another ball of paper onto my desk. Cocking a brow at him, I unfold it, while he just shrugs and sniggers. I glance down to see Gregory’s wormy handwritings.

“What’s this?”

“New nicknames….” Zac says in a sing-song voice, and points at Professor Downey, “…..for her.”

“I thought it’s Pompom Clown?”

“Well, Greg wants some changes.”

I turn my head back to the paper and scan through the new names, frowning.
1. Roasted Noodles (4)
2. Poodle-cum-Puli (16)
3. Muddy Cotton Candy (3)

I glare up at Zac, “Roasted noodles?”

Zac leans back in his seat, “Yeah. Curls and noodles. Aren’t they the same?”

I hold up the paper, “You guys are wicked.”

Professor Downey’s got a head of really short brown curly hair, and that’s all Gregory the monkey needs to come up with a billion nicknames for her.

I hurl the paper ball at Gregory’s face, “If she ever gets hold of this list, it’s not just a detention, Gregory. You’re gonna see the principal.”

“Miss Baker.”

I freeze at her call of my name. Sitting up straighter, I offer her a nervous smile.

Professor Downey pushes her glasses up, “What was I saying just now?”

I smile uncertainly, “Hmm?”

“What did I say?” she starts sauntering over to my seat.

“Uh….” I glance around the class nervously, looking for help when I catch Daphne waving at me from behind Professor Downey. She stretches her arms high up, her butt barely touching the chair.

“Ummm…..” I tilt my head, trying to make out the words Daphne’s written for me on her notepad.

“Yes, Miss Baker?”

I narrow my eyes and read out Daphne’s words, “……..uh……..twerky Miley’s cute.”

Professor Downey stops in her tracks, and the whole class whips their heads to me and boom, “WHAT?”

I’m the second one-person batch to exclaim at myself, “What?!”

Professor Downey pushes her glasses up higher, almost to her forehead, and searches my face curiously, “What?”

God, WHAT did I just say out loud? I shift uncomfortably in my seat, feeling those big wide eyes on me. What the hell, Daphne?

Professor Downey breaks the silence, “I asked, what’s the number of moles of THIRTY MOLECULES of carbon dioxide, Miss Baker. What’s with teens nowadays and booties?” She studies my face disapprovingly.

I stare down at my hands and feel my cheeks heat up. Damn my brain-to-mouth filter system.

“Detention, Miss Baker.”

I repeat my previous word, “What?!”

Gregory answers from his seat, “Professor said, deee-ten-shion, Sandy Swiss Baker Roll, as in, Burger King, out.” I could sense the smug grin in his voice.

That monkey.

I CAN’T believe this.

For the whole two periods, I occupy myself by staring at the blank page on my notepad while tapping at the table in frustration. What’s this? Detention and Monday all in a package. The heck. A nightmare would be an understatement.

I doodle on my notepad mindlessly, trying to keep my exasperation at bay whereas Gregory’s trying his very best to get my exasperation worked up again.

He hums dramatically, “It’s time to be a big girl now…..and biggie girly girls don’t cry…..don’t cry….oh don’t cry…”

I swallow my gagging reflex and glower at him as Zac glances between us nervously.

For the next thirty minutes, I watch as the class passes around the lunch-votes paper, while Gregory’s got his brows knitted and his head bowed in concentration probably cracking his brain to come up with more new nicknames for Professor Downey.

Zac passes me a sticky note, “From Greg.”

I lift the note to eye level and squint at it. It’s the schedule for this afternoon. I sit up straight immediately and hiss at Gregory, “No.”

“Yes.”

“NO.”

“Mmm yesssss,” he smirks.

“You guys can’t go to the arcade without me.”

“Whyyyyy?”

“It’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair!” Gregory imitates me in a high-pitched voice, and sticks his tongue out at me.

I stare dead-panned at him, my hands itching to wrap themselves around his neck and choke him into a purplish zombie. MONKEY BAMPOT.

Tearing my fiery gaze away from him, I throw myself down against the back of the seat and cross my arms in annoyance.

“It’s not fair!” the monkey’s mocking face flashes over my mind again and again, until my eyes fall upon the paper plane on Zac’s desk. I cock a brow at it, a grin already spreading across my face.

I lean forward a bit and steal a glance at Gregory. He’s folding one himself as he gives a thumb-up sign to his other friend sitting in the front row, while Professor Downey’s still keen on filling up every tiny corner of the board.

I shift a bit, and in a ready stance, wait for Gregory to launch his paper plane. That’s right, do it now, monkey. Holding my breath, I watch as Gregory makes a move to fling his paper plane and instinctively, I leap up from my seat and snatch away the paper plane on Zac’s table, before I bang my fist on the table without knowing exactly why.

Gregory jumps a little from shock and not wanting to waste a second, I flick the plane in my hand, shooting it through the air….. It hits home, which is Professor Downey’s pompom ball of hair. The paper plane sticks right through it. Her hands halt in mid-air, and she turns her body around slowly, the poor plane still amidst her hair.

Gregory’s mouth drops in confusion, his hand still high in the air in an about-to-throw way, with the paper plane still in it. Professor Downey gives him a look, and….well, you know what happened.

The last period then carries on with unusual quietness due to the lack of Gregory’s bickering and hums. I flip the sticky note over, and write on the blank side, “Bless my archery DNA, monkey.” before passing the sticky note back to Gregory.

Guess I got myself a detention buddy after all.