class of 2013 ✓

08 | amour-propre

I'm way too damn worn out for school.

In fact, I can barely keep my eyes open for longer than half a second. My workload's been kicking my ass recently, and that combined with all these applications I have to submit is a recipe for disaster. Really, I'd like to think I'm a somewhat responsible person, but the school's been especially overwhelming as of late, and unfortunately, it doesn't seem like it's gonna lighten anytime soon.

I can't catch a break, can I?

Fatigued, I groan into my arms, the acoustics amplified by the desk underneath me. Woolen sleeves of my sweater tickle my forehead. I wouldn't be mad if I had to stay in this position forever.

To my dismay, I can't, because in T minus 5 minutes, I'm going to be swept up in another assignment.

My opponent, on the other hand, looks unbothered as he scribbles something down in his journal, a crease forming between his brows. Admittingly, I was a little bummed that I wouldn't have the opportunity to see the pieces that came to life between those pages. Hopefully, in the future, I might have a chance to.

Unlikely.

As if on cue, the chemistry teacher, Ms. Valdez, storms in holding a myriad of beakers and other measuring tools stuffed in a crate. With an exaggerated sigh, she sets the box down on one of the L-shaped lab tables. Then, in one swift motion, she makes a show out of wiping her forehead with her forearm, a small sigh escaping her lips in the process.

"Hey kids," she beams, her curly bangs bouncing up and down, "how's it going?"

"I'm okay," he shrugs, sinking further down his seat, crossing his legs. "Better now that school's over for the day."

Unexpectedly, at his honesty, Ms. Valdez giggles. "I feel that. Don't worry, I don't plan on keeping you two in here for too long. I'm tired as well, it's been a long week. My plan is to do something easy. We're going to make volcanoes today. If you don't finish, you can take it home and give me your finished product whenever you get around to it, sounds good?"

Both of us nod weakly.

The teacher begins giving us instructions, telling us what materials to use, where to find them, and additional tips to make them look presentable.

If I remember correctly, the first step is to paper mache a mountain shape around an empty plastic bottle.

Quickly, I grab one of the bigger ones that have all of the sticker residues from the label scrubbed off cleanly.

Ms. Valdez has already prepared a mixture of equal parts flour and water, the murky liquid swirling like a tornado in one of the beakers. In an abrupt manner, she drops two wide paintbrushes into the mixture, stirring it around.

As I begin to layer strips of newspaper coated with the concoction on top of each other, making sure to smooth out all the air bubbles. In the meantime, Ms. Valdez, seated on top of a desk, asks us some questions, her knee-high black boots swinging back and forth an inch above the floor. Most of them were quite standard questions most adults ask high school seniors, so I repeated my answers out loud like a robot. All the while, my opponent kept his lips sealed, for the most part, focusing his energy on the project at hand instead. Interesting strategy, considering he's usually the one doing all the talking. I wonder if something's upsetting him today.

Unlike my approach, he's chosen to crumple balls of the paper so the texture resembles eroded rock. Hate to admit it, but I can already tell it's going to turn out better than mine.

Aria had her for sophomore chemistry honors. If I'm not mistaken, Ms. Valdez was the person that wrote her rec letter, so I'm assuming they must've been close.