A Conversation full of El Estres

My stress was building. I was having my happy time of the monthe, I had my English presentation in two hours, and I had 10 minutes to get 4 more teacher signatures. The race began. First I went down to Deans room, because I thought she might have a class during my lunch hour. Angela met me, that made things easier. Mrs. Dean wasn't showing. The two of us ran up and down the hall, poking into offices, classrooms, bathrooms, and concept centers without a trace of her. Finally, we figured she'd have to be in her classroom before class started. (Although this was later than either of us really had) We took up positions outside the door. Finally we look inside again, where she had magically apparated. We run in, get our signatures, and run out... she goes up the stairwell, I go back through the math hall. Goodbye Angela, and Good Luck. She had to interrupt classes, all I had to do was interrupt lunch, but she would turn out to be the braver.

I hurry to the library. Stephanie agreed to accompany me in leiu of our normal cultural readings at lunchtime, but first we had to stop at the nurses to get a signature for her. We went up the stairs and poked into Mr. Dee's room. Locked and dark. We figured he was eating lunch in the concept center. First door locked. We turn around to the other end of the english department. Second door locked. Then, it opens. A teacher comes out, sees us standing their looking like halfwits. She tells us we might as well get it over with, and lets us in. In we scurry, it proves rather easy... I have had less experiance with the English department, see, and only know Dee, Right, Campbell, and Gerding at all.

Then, foreign language. It strikes me that we're on borrowed time; Mr. McAllister leaves to go to the middle school immediately after lunch. We plan to go into the foreign language center. All my stress fills me at once, like a balloon. I don't know what came over me, but as Stephanie fearlessly opened the door, instead of taking a step forward like I should have, I took one backwards, and stood their like a coward as Stephanie took a step or two in, then looked back and scurried out again, hissing rightfully at me.

Deeply ashamed, I try to explain. "I don't know, Stephanie, you think you're brave until you have to face a room full of foreign language teachers..." I know the teachers, I've liked every one I've had. (And thats more or less everyone but the French) But I couldn't bring myself to go in. Not while they were eating lunch and all. I've broken into their lunch hour before, but usually it was to be the brave one; Billie or someone saying "Miranda, I'm scared to go in." and me telling her, "Silly Billie, that's rediculous. Theyre not going to eat you." But I didn't think of this, overwhelmed in shame as I was. Quickly, I formulated another plan. We would wait for Mr McAllister to leave, and ambush him. Soon after, Kiser would come out to begin her class. It would be a rush, to be certain, but we could make it work.

Then Angie came, god bless her. "Angie!" I lamented. "I do not know what is happening. I can't go inside."

She blinked. "The concept center? Come on." I followed meekly. Angie is as short as I am, and quieter, but she carries that sort of authority. She opened the door a crack and more or less commanded me in. So I went. What was I to say? Hola and catch the majority of them? Salve and be original? Hallo or Bonjour and sound idiotic? Somehow, I settled on Hi. McAllister wasn't there. Not thinking about that, I went in.

"Señora... Kiser?" Angie asked with that slight, odd accent of hers. I don't know how she knew.

"I need your signature."
"My signature?"
"Mhmm"

As she signs it, all the teachers poke questioning glances towards my friends, waiting at the door like the pathetic emotional support I usually serve as. I feel better, but feel the need to explain, and that brings the embarrassment back.

"My friends had to help me. I was scared to come in."
Sra. Altadonna looks at me strangely. "Why, Miranda? You practically lived in here last year."
"I know, but... its scary, all of you together. You combine your powers. Or something."
Sra. Kiser almost finds this funny. "Yes, we're all going to team up against you."
My paper is signed. I edge towards the door.
Sra. Altadonna said something. I heard it in a haze, and Stephanie's also talking.

"Don't run away" says Sra. Altadonna, while Stephanie, simultaneously, said, "Didn't you need one from Mr. McAllister, too?"

Despair. "Yes, but he's already left."

"I saw him go the other way."

Waah! O.O

"Sorry, sorry, I have to go get Mr. McAllisters signature!" I run out the door, that is disgraceful enough. I run down the hallway, when Stephanie says, "No, he hasn't left yet. He went to his desk."

Well, I'd come to far to turn back. I return to the concept center, distinctively ignoring everyone else, though I suspect theyre watching me.

"Mr McAllister! I need your signature!"

"Excellent, Miranda!"

He signs it, and says, "They were bragging about you, today."

"They were? Why?" I though they had gotten over the fact I was taking three languages.

"Some sort of Multilingual presentation..." Ah, of course. Frau Eilken betrayed me.

"When I came in?" I ask, suddenly worried. I caught one word of their conversation as we opened the door... "And Japanese..." Oh, dear god. And that would explain that Speak-of-the -Devil looks on their faces. But I have to run. Theres only a few minutes left in lunch, and I have to pay, turn in the form, and return to the library for my bookbag.

"Vale!" I say, running out of the concept center, and past all the teachers again. I accomplish all my tasks with entire seconds to spare. I fall into a pile (or it seemed like it) of Kelling, Kate, Billie, and Brooke. Theyre all German and French, but I said something in Spanish to them anyway, thats how suddenly exhausted I was.

A few minutes later, as the bell rings, I slink into Spanish to face the recently, well, unvanquished Professora Kiser. I try to explain to her, but its not so easy. She keeps wanting to talk in Spanish, and Im not in the mood. "Estoy muy agobiada. Lo siento mucho." I finally said.

She seemed to accept this, so I pressed my luck. "Mr. McAllister said you were talking about me."

"Claro que si."

"Que... de?" I ask in imperfect Spanish that she wastes no time correcting.

She gives me blah blah blah. No specifics. Curse her for not making me privy to private conversations. :P Her class helped, though. A lot. By the time I had sat through retards getting the same question wrong again and again and getting my grade card of 97.5%, I felt much better. Su clase es increíble para aleviar el estres. ;_;

:D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

Stress attack of the year vanished, and somehow I diverted it from my graded English presentation!