Arden gave a sigh. So, she managed to fuck up two things: Plan to get back before curfew. Check that shit off. Find something of actual value.

Because after she flipped, oh she flipped alright, because the only thing that happened to be in the orange envelopes were either notes or fucking graphs depending on your letter. "Yay! So happy. My phones is at fucking five percent, but at least I have these notes!"

They were proven to be about as useless as the papers, ranging from teachers telling who to check off, to Mr. Lep or Mr. SUA bitching about his star students. Because for some reason, in her seventh and sixth period, she just happened to find anything she felt was of use. Seventh. Parent phone numbers, confiscated notes. Sixth. Next pop quiz date, exactly what it was going to be about, and the first five answers. But no way. Mr. Stick-Up-Ass just managed to be the most useless teacher in the yearbook.

Arden collected her backpack off a desk, and didn't even bother to put anything up. It really wasn't her fault that random pieces of paper were on the floor... Folders were scattered on his desk, and his life-long collection of pens were... How dare she say it? "Either stomped on or sticking out of his chair." She smiled at the idea. Yes, it was little she could do for payback, but it wasn't like she could throw them out of a window.

She imagined him crying about his pens, like he did every time a student gave him a new one. Not really the Mallon type of thing, but, whatever. She hoped the storm wasn't that bad, and moved to the door. That's until she noticed something blocking it from the window.