Today's theme is: Terrorism!

The school bell’s mechanical bell was crying it’s last cry, warning students that their classes were about to begin. Kelsey was going to be about five-seconds late, but she knew her first-block teacher wouldn’t mind. He liked to pretend he was cool with things like that because he was the school councillor. She took her time wandering in the school doors towards her locker, they closed with the satisfying crack that only high-school doors can.
Her locker was right beside the main foyer so she didn’t need to dodge much foot-traffic to get to it. She ducked and weaved through the sparse face-less crowd anyways though. She figured that she may as well find her own fun in this place since it had been made so abundantly clear in the last thirteen years that it wasn’t going to be provided. Kelsey wasn’t totally sure that she’d been in school thirteen years, but the number had some drama to it, so she went with it.
She didn’t actually need anything out of her locker, so she basically just walked up to it, turned around and walked away. If she’d only had a piece of abandoned luggage, she could have become a full-fledged terrorist. Kelsey decided then and there that the theme of the day would be terrorism.
Kelsey’s advisor; a hirsute, old asian man named Mr. London, was staring distractedly down at a stack of papers which had been on his desk for easily a week. Kelsey had made a little red line down the side of the stack so she could keep track of when the pile left. She was confident that it she shuffled through all the loose pages on his desk a month from now, she could still form the thin red line. It made Kelsey roll her eyes, and unfortunately it made her roll her eyes just as Mr. London noticed that she had entered his class; a small, dirty little corner of the otherwise neat and tidy school.
“That’s right Kelsey, roll your eyes every time you walk into a class. You know, just in-case it isn’t perfectly clear that you’re just brimming over with enthusiasm.” he mumbled in his deep, boring voice. He looked Asian, but he didn’t sound Asian at all. It was always entertaining to watch people first meeting him; the surprised wideness in their eyes as they realized he was just another Canadian.
“I roll my eyes to praise Allah for giving me another opportunity to purge the filthy eagles from the promised land.” Kelsey sighed, then brushed past Mr. London, intentionally knocking the ornate little pencil-sharpener shaped like a pig into the garbage bin beside his desk. “Die, capitalist swine!” she shouted, then bent down and replaced the sharpener on the desk, but turning it to face the back of the room. Mr. London just stared, he’d clearly come to expect this kind of behaviour from Kelsey.
She took her seat in the middle-desk of the middle-row in the class, and slouched down so that her eyes were barely visible above the scratched and torn faux-wood desk. She clawed at the underside, checking to see if there was any exciting news awaiting her. She checked the little rib where the desk curls up underneath, but there was none. Sliding back up into the proper sitting position, Kelsey slung her back-pack off of her shoulder and onto the desk and waited for the rest of her likely absent class to file in.

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