• The man told us to take our seats, we did so. I sat next to Yoki, my crush. He looked at me differently, I think it was because I had tears in my eyes. I think I was crying because our teacher looked like my mother. He introduced himself. Mr. Yoshiro. H e said he was happily married with two kids. I wondered if he could play any instruments..... I feel stupid thinking about that. He told us we can ask any questions, but. I just sighed. I just can't think about my parents. I need a break. I am always depressed. My foster parents think I need 'special help' but I think I might as well die of depression. I hate life. I am not wasting it talk to some dumb person with a degree. I talk to my friends. My two best friends. My only friends. That I can only trust. I really can't trust anyone. I am one of those girls who doesn't talk much, who is always the one everyone talks about. I hate it. If you could get away with killing some people, I would definitely go for it. I would never have a second thought about it. Sometimes I tell my parents what kids say, but they always say ignore them. They don't even understand. They don't know how difficult it is to ignore kids that say crap like that to you. You tell them over and over, to stop. The kids never stop. If parents understood, they would give me better advice. Once it gets out of hand like this, you really can't ignore them. It is every difficult. You try and try, after you try many times you really can't do anything any more. I hate it, your parents tell you this and that but! But! You just can't listen when it gets out of hand. The man handed out sheets of paper. The paper asks questions, like what are your parents names, what is your name, and other things like that. I didn't want to answer them. The bell rang for next period. He told us the sheet was homework, but I didn't care. I was about to walk out the door, but I crumpled up the paper and through it away. "Kanya!" The teacher said. I stopped as people were going around me trying to get out the door, while I was blocking it. Some kids squeezed through, others pushed me. I walked into the classroom, and sat down. "What, and how do you know my name?" I asked. I wasn't as polite as I was trying to be. "You need that paper, that is your homework, unless you want to fail." He told me, ignoring my other question. "I rather fail." I said. "Now, how do you know my name?" He stood there silent. " Why would you fail? I know your name because I am a teacher and I need to know names." He studdered. "All I would have to put down is, dead, dead, dead. There is really no point." I said. He shuddered when I said dead. "Dead?" He shuddered again. This time his voice was wabbly. "My parents are dead, okay? Now I would like to get to lunch, good-bye." I said, even less polite. I walked out the door, he said my name but I didn't care, in minute I was in the lunch room, I was sitting at a table, alone.