Not My Problem

by Ciara Smyth

“Wow, gossiping about me with the English teacher. I would have thought you were above that kind of thing.” Ms Devlin turned red, ready to explode. “I am your English teacher, you ninny.” “Oh right, I thought you looked familiar.”

Probably because she had unnatural feelings (a gay) or disturbing thoughts (an opinion) or had been possessed by Satan (was horny?).

😂😂😂

This is what you get for being a Good Samaritan. You die in a girls’ changing

room at the hands of a deranged overachiever.

“Once you snort that meth, there’s no going back.”

Her lip wobbled and then tears filled her eyes. She pressed her fists into her eye sockets and pushed hard. “All right, all right, that’s probably how you lost your eyelashes,” I said, pulling her fists away from her eyes by grabbing her wrists.

Silent tears sprang out of her eyes. How could one person cry so much? “Please,” she said.

She grabbed the front of my jumper and pulled me so close I could smell her breath. It was still pepperminty from brushing her teeth that morning. No pre-class coffee for Meabh. She probably thought coffee was a gateway drug to cocaine.

😂😂

I rolled my eyes, hoping that would satisfy her. Meabh noticed and for a second a hurt look flashed across her face. She immediately averted her eyes and pulled the table out to the “correct” position. My cheeks were on fire. I’d rolled my eyes at Meabh at least once a week for ten years, but suddenly I felt like a huge arsehole.

the acoustics in here were great.

Smallville

Why was I mesmerised by the way the muscles in her arms tensed as she clutched the bags, though? There were only two explanations. One was that I was a cannibal. The other didn’t bear thinking about.

She winked. I nearly fainted.