literature

God, Whats Her Problem

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Literature Text

     I sit at the table, smiling politely and nodding as that one girl tells me about her weekend in the mountains, her hand drifting over the rim of her plastic tray continually, The constant movement turns my blood a putrid orange, ready to burst forth in annoyance induced anger. I nod instead, wanting to be nice so in a moment, when I leave, she won't turn around and whisper, "God, what's her problem?"
The boy I sit next to in Biology always looks at my paper, smiling slightly as he does as though I'm that blind to him. I want to tell the teacher. but if I do then he will convince the school that I was the one in the wrong. More people wouldn't talk to me and I'd be all alone. He scratches his nose, not even bothering anymore to hide that he's cheating. Too bad for him. I raise my hand and respectfully request a seat change across the room to where it is absolutely silent and eyes are all sewn into place with words. I'm allowed, but as I move I look over and see "God, what's her problem?" written in all of their eyes.   
The sixth vignette I had to write for class. This is one of my favorites.
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