But before AP Bio,

 

oops, Another Science Class,

you go to AP Economics,

which you call 9/11.

 

You call it 9/11

because for a week and a half,

your teacher only lectured

about 9/11.

 

Plus, it’s a bigger class,

bigger than ASC,

and since it gets really chatty,

you don’t learn much of anything.

 

Every person in the class

is a senior, like you.

Most of the faces

are pretty familiar.

 

There’s a few in the class

that you know a bit more.

They’re not really friends,

more like close acquaintances.

 

Everyone in 9/11 knows each other,

but nobody knows anything about you.

But like you said, you don’t care, and they don’t either.

So all these people can go fuck themselves.

 

There’s a guy you sit by;

some girls you know think he’s hot.

He’s got a tattoo of a dead cat,

right on his fuckin’ ass.

 

How would you know?

He’s flashed you a few times.

You don’t understand it,

so don’t ask you why.

 

It’s really disgusting,

so maybe that’s why he does it.

You hate seeing his ass

as much as you hate this class.

 

You hate your 7th period

like a wife hates getting hit.

You could slit your wrists under your desk,

bleed out, and nobody would notice.