Thomas always hated learning grammer. It was boring, annoying, and just plain old stupid. That doesn't mean he hated english class in general, but he didn't like the grammer part of it. He loved literature though. Sadly, that horrible Tuesday, that's what they were learning about. His teacher stood at the front of the classroom, using a pointer to point out what she was talking about. Thomas was looking down at his binder, doodling little things all over it. He didn't feel like being in school that day. Sighing, he dropped his pencil on his desk. The teacher heard the small wooden object fall on the desk and turned around. She raised her eyebrow and looked back at the board. "Hag," he whispered underneath his breath.

Sol leaned his seat against the back wall of his classroom. He loved being in the back row, if only for this reason. Well, not really. He loved observing what people did around him. Thank god people were interesting, or he'd go out of his mind. He drummed his yellow, freshly sharpened number two pencil against his thigh, chuckling softly at Thomas's muttered commentary. It was crude, but kind of guiltily true.

Glancing up at the clock, as he did every two minutes, his eyes grew wider. Eleven forty-two. Just three more minutes until lunch. He tapped the back of his classmate's seat and gestured toward the time. Almost there.

Tap, tap, tap. The noise rung in Thomas' ears. Where was it coming from? He looked in front of him, no source of the stupid tapping. He sighed and helped his head up with his arm. Tap, tap, tap. Thomas heard it again. He turned around and saw it was the boy, that sat behind him, doing it. He narrowed his eyebrows and looked at him, giving him daggers. "Could you stop?" he asked, very politely, but still with some anger in his voice. He just wanted to go to lunch, that's why his was being very hasty.

He shrugged, leaning back again in his seat. Sol definitely wasn't a pessimist, so he gave his classmate the benefit of the doubt. Right. Actually, he just let the thought of communication with this particular boy slip his mind.

No muttering, no retort, just serene ignorance. And only one minute left.

The tapping stopped. It satisfied Thomas and he turned back around in his seat. His eyes focused on the clock at the top of the room. It seemed like the second hand never moved. Like it was stuck in permanent, make the students insane, mode. He looked around at the other students, some of their eyes were on the clock as well, but it seemed like most of them were either dead or actually paying attention. Thomas looked at the teacher and groaned. She didn't seem to pay attention to the clock. Like, it didn't matter for her. Thomas waited for the wonderful sound of the bell to go off. He waited...and waited.