Twenty

Hey.
Mondays. HATE THEM. Srsly.
This morning started okay. We had maths first, and everything was dandy. And then it was science and nothing of great interest happened. Then at break I was really cold and hungry, and couldn't be bothered with English which I had next. In that lesson, Shaquille put my specks on and pretended he was cool, which was quite funny. And then at Lunch me and Stacey got talking about Sixth Form and what options we were going to continue for a-level. And then manboy came in and I was like dude you need a haircut. And when Bec went up to get food, she came back and went 'Sam, I was stood in the line, and I looked up and Mr Penford was just staring at me like...' and then did the face he did. I found it quite funny but she was a bit scared.
Stacey had a yoghurt called 'nom.' I used to to demonstrate my description or Mr Palings bum.
And then it was double PE and I got hit in the face with the netball and now I've got a bruise on my cheekbone. And someone dropped the ball and I about fell over it, and Lauren scratched my hand. And then Zo was complaining and I was like don't even talk to me about pain.
And then we did lacrosse but I'm really bad at that and don't like it, so I just stood with the cage bat thing in my hand, letting the balls fly past me. One hit me in the arm and now it's all red. Sport is deadly.
I've just written out 2 pages of French speaking exam script, that I won't be allowed in the actual exam. I'm scared. I can't do french speaking exams. It's next month and I can't do it :(
Tomorrow should be even crapper, as we have no good lessons at all. Literally. WAIT. HISTORY. But except for that. Crap.
I was meant to go back for business tonight but I forgot. oh well.
My hands are really cold
THE KITCHEN IS DONE. WOOP. WOOP.
The end.
Sam x