Chapter 3
During his break between classes he found a quiet place to sit and read a book for fun. He should probably have been doing school work but he had been doing school work all day so far, he needed a break.
Just as he was in the middle of an exciting part of the story he heard the bell for class so he put his book in his bag and went to Transfiguration.
He sat down in his assigned seat, he had a couple minutes until class started so he read a couple more pages of his book but as soon as class started he put it away in his bag and tried to pay attention.
He wanted to continue reading.
He wants to know what happens next.
The desire to read is like a physical itch in his brain.
It was hard to focus on what the teacher was saying.
He wants to read.
He wants to read.
He wants to read.
He wants to read.
He tried his best to pay attention but he wants to read. The itch in his brain is getting painful.
He wants to read.
He wants to read.
He wants to read.
He wants to read.
He checked the clock, class must be almost over by now.
It’s only been 15 minutes of this hour long class.
The itch in his brain is physically painful. He can’t take this torture anymore. He wants to read.
It’s either read or burst into tears in the middle of class from the effort of not reading. He can’t stand it anymore. It’s not like he heard a word the teacher has said anyway. All his attention was on forcing himself not to read.
As stealthily as he could he pulled his book into his lap and started reading under his desk. He was caught almost immediately.
The teacher snatched his book away from him and scolded, “I know you would rather be reading then paying attention in class but all the other students would rather be doing something fun rather than learning and they are all managing to pay attention.”
Everyone was laughing at him. He started crying.
If she’s right, if everyone else feels the same way he does, then he is weak and pathetic. He couldn’t stand the torture for 15 minutes and everyone else is able to sit through the whole class without breaking.
The teacher demanded, “Go sit in the hallway, your crying is a distraction for the students who actually want to learn.”
He sat out there, alone, for the rest of class. The teacher hadn’t given him his book back so the itch in his brain to read just keep getting worse. Like his brain was on fire.
All the other students are made of stronger stuff then him.