"Ma'am?"

The old teacher continues to write significant dates against the blackboard. Her every move is followed by the scratching noise of the chalk.

"Ma'am?" I call her for the second time. Never did she halt and look at me.

I yawn loudly. My eyes squint at what she's writing. Ah, boring and repetitive series of events from I don't know which history of.

“Excuse me, Ma'am. May I go out?” I ask, raising my hand as if she can see me from behind.

She faces the class in a slow, tensed manner and searches for me. Her strict eyes behind the spectacles meet mine. I lower my hand and smile awkwardly.

“Fine, Miss Mandeville. Just make sure you go back to the class after five minutes,” she responds. A triumph smirk escapes my lips. Finally!

As I go out, I fish my phone from the pocket of my skirt uniform and play a random song. I putBanging my head to the beat escaping through my earphones, I walk under the humid rays of the sun.

The song is currently rocking my mind endlessly, its harsh and aggressive tune lifts my mood up. It suddenly makes me want to have a late night drive down the street recklessly, with a rock song coming through the stereo, and a violent whisper of the air that'd make my hair be blown wherever my strands could reach. Checking my phone, the title pops on the screen --- Crooked by G-Dragon. Yeah, we're all fucked up!

It is currently nine in the morning and the atmosphere just feels so sleepy, more so, hearing the lectures about history and laws. It's not that I have a weak political view in life. It's the way the teacher teaches so the discussion just doesn't catch my interest.

So repetitive. My mind just can't handle the memorization of names and dates in the handouts. Surely, I will just nag at Owen to give me answers so why would I waste my intellectual capacity to understand those things that I will eventually forget?

Now, I just want to pass time at the back of the campus after asking permission to go to the toilet room.

Alibi.

I clicked my tongue, but not in annoyance. I sure am as hell that a triumphant grin escapes my lips. I'm a little spoony sometimes and it's nothing to be proud of, just being thirsty of the thrill has me always imcluded to complicated situations. Who cares? I'm signing up for fun.

I head towards the abandoned building. The structures of its two floors are all made of wood. Some parts of a window are left hanging, as if they would fall anytime soon. Some cobwebs are visible, a sign that no one had cleaned it ever since. The roof made in an ordinary iron is already rust itself. They're preparing it for the renovation so there are no students lurking around here, except me.

Since I am already at the backmost part of Collins High School, I can now fully see the quite high wall that serves as a boundary from the college university campus on the other side. The cheering and shouting from the other side are visible to the ears. Maybe some college students practicing for their intramurals.

My eyes went to the right side. A view of tall grasses greets me. Everytime I glance at that side, I smell rebel, an escapade, a place where silent screams can be heard, a mask of danger.

They sway in one direction, as if inviting me to come, to pass through their shady leaves. I did it. Before. I climbed the wall before. And surprisingly, a picturesque view of mountains, cliff, and a raging ocean which waves cannot be ruled met my eyes! I want to go there again but I have to do something first.

The gentle wind blows and some strands of my hair cover my face for a bit. While my eyes are closed, I get to feel the cold caressing my skin. I get to hear its discreet whistle while a different song is playing against my ear. I then eventually tame my wavy hair and put it in a bun. Wandering at the place, I search for the thing I have hidden here last week.

“There. Gotcha!”

I grin widely as I come closer to the familiar aerosol can. My sense can still smell the faint scent of the paint inside it. I pick it up and slightly shake.

I walk nearer to the white wall. It seems to be newly painted. Of course, it is one of the projects of student council. I heard that the current president is hardworking. I smirk. It would be satisfying to taint the wall a little. It won't hurt, right?

I can already imagine the scowling face of Rico Alvarez, the Student Council President. The dim stares of his brown eyes that send tensions to every student is making them feel intimidated. Didn't see him for weeks, anyway. Might as well trigger his little sergeants.

The mood of the song causes me to spray a big middle finger with my contact number below. I laugh bitterly while replacing letters with numbers so that it will become more confusing to read. Gaping at my work of art, I sniggle when I realize how lame it is.

'H3l1Ow RiCoxx. B0r3D? ;) HerE"s mY nUmb3R:'

Disgusting. Dirty. Can barely read it. Nonsense.

Okay I admit, the luminous yellow paint is already a pain in the ass yet I wrote those letters in that way. I don't know what came in my mind for I also include my signature just below the middle finger. Yes, I literally signed up for this!

After what I did earlier, I went back to our classroom to wait for our next subject teacher. Now, I try hard to make myself sink comfortably on the chair I'm sitting on at the last row, with both legs on the wooden table, not minding the short skirt uniform. Besides, I'm wearing a cycling short.

Collins High School unexpectedly received many enrollees last year. The lack of rooms and its student capacities are at difficulty. For now, we settle in to two shifts of classes, morning and afternoon, so that a vast number of students would fit in until the new buildings are built.

I peek through the windowpane and I saw the two almost-done buildings. I wish we could go back to the normal time of classes. My shift is too early, from six in the morning up to twelve noon. After a couple of minutes, I feel my back turns numb so I fix my sitting posture. A yawn escapes my lips while stretching my arms. Drowsiness is pulling me back for I woke up early this morning.

I slightly grunt. Why is Monday never good to me?