Day Dream

• Shannell Clark
• Short Story
• 2009

One two skip a few ninety-nine a hundred I hummed, Robert’s black shirt was drenched in dandruff (if dandruff was water he’d be soaked), math was such a bore. I lay my head on my table and drifted to sleep.
“Miss Humax, what is the square root of four hundred and sixty nine thousand?” Mr. Rovaxe’s voice penetrated my ears. I really didn’t know, I started to stir , “hmmm! Your mother won’t be too pleased to find out your not paying attention in class.”
The rest of my math class screamed out in mocking laughter, which made my skin crawl. I got out of my chair.
“Shhhhh!” I spat at the class. The class of twenty-five students fell silent. Adrenalin pumped through my veins, the hairs on my arms stood on end. “Do you want a piece of me? Mr I’m-going-to-tell-your-mum-your-not-paying-attention-in-class.”
“What in tar-nation has gotten into you young lady.”
“None of your business!” I confidently strode to Mr. Rovaxe. Now I was nearly centimetres distance from him. I corked up, my fist in a ball...
...“Miss Humax, Miss Humax, Miss Humax” a gentle voice said.
I lifted my head from the desk and found an empty class and an unconscious Mr. Rovaxe. Must have been sleep walking again.