I found myself in my old high school. I pillaging through my tiny red locker, searching for the books and folders I needed for the next two classes after lunch: one was a social science class and the other was an English class. I was creating quite a mess in the hallway; old papers, old food, old textbooks, and old trash were flowing out of my locker at a constant stream. Finally, after much rummaging, I found my two books and two folders (one red and one yellow). When I looked through what I had I remembered that I had forgotten to do the assignments for either of the classes, which filled me with great fear. I had never missed turning in an assignment, and I didn't want to disappoint my teachers, which made me panic.
I saw Andrew Jensen (former classmate) walking down the hallway, and I quickly met up with him to see if he had the assignments completed. He did, and I then asked him if I could borrow his homework, so that he could repay me for all the times I had let him use my answers to finish his assignments. He agreed to give me the answers to the social science class (which was kind of pointless, for they were just definitions), but he said he wasn't in the same English class. As he handed me his papers, I decided to reject them, for I am not a cheater, and it would have made me feel even worse than not turning in the assignment at all.
I ran to the lunch line, hoping that I could get my food early so that I could work on the homework for the remainder of the lunch period. The line was backed up all the way out the door, so I decided just to skip. I asked Mr. Miller (the vice-principal) if I could use the special study room above the library (which doesn't exist in real life), and he took me there, unlocked the door with his special key, and I was all set to study.
For a long time I was alone, which allowed me to zoom through the definitions for the social science class. However, when I started working on the English homework, I began to move through it at a much slower pace. The questions were easy, for they (for some reason) were about Super Mario World, and I knew all of the answers without having to look in the book for them. Even so, I was writing so slowly, and nothing I did could make me write faster (I used to be a very quick writer in high school). I became flustered and began writing in extremely large print, which began to take over the page.
To make matters worse, Peter Badertscher (former youth pastor of Koontz Lake Missionary Church) and Brian Can'trememberhislastname (he was a grade below me and no longer went to the same high school as me after junior high) walked in and began a long discussion about Lord of the Rings and about track and field (both subjects that I am was interested in at the time, so it was hard for me to ignore them). They talked for a long time, so long that I couldn't believe it was still lunch (I felt like I was there for hours).
Finally the bell rang and I went to the social science class, which was being taught by Mr. Marsh (high school social science teacher at Oregon-Davis, also a believer in Big Foot and Martians). The classroom I was in looked nothing like any room I had ever been in, and it contained many desks lined up in narrow rows. The room itself was long and narrow, and it was painted completely red.
All the students, including me, passed up the homework to the front of the classroom. As that was happening I started working more on the English homework, for I was nearly finished. However, as Mr. Marsh was collecting the definitions, he gave me a fierce glare over his John Lennon glasses.
Then I awoke.
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