It was bad enough that Hattrick committed himself to another year at the damn school. Yes that damn school...Bullworth Academy. Yep, the very school you think it is.
A whole other year of the kids that he considered a pain in the a--well, rear end. At least he got to keep his classroom. But Hattrick was seriously beginning to consider leaving Bullworth and getting another job. Especially after that foolish Howell boy and his Greaser friends had broken his windows with rocks, a particular event he was still holding a grudge against them for.
Hattrick nearly cried when he saw the roster of kids he was teaching this year. Still the worst bunch he had ever taught, what with the lineup. Another year of the likes of Beckett Howell, Greg Ryder, Jericho Hahn-Benga, Johnny Vincent, Jenny Wolf, that complete dunderhead Ted Thompson and that insufferable Kian Armadan and his buddy Jett Malone...and did he mention Beckett Howell, to name a few.
By the time he finished checking the roster, Hattrick was pretty convinced that being a mailman had to be better, even if the pay would be worse for him.
But yet he found himself in that small room, with a bunch of foolish kids throwing paper airplanes and arm-wrestling and other such things. Hattrick knew it was futile to try and tame them before class had even begun. Especially since Russell was in this particular class.
What worried Hattrick the most was the kids in this class. The room was packed this year and it was hard to see everybody clearly, especially because for some unfathomable reason, the default seating chart had the huge TK Faleniko placed smack-dab in the middle of the rows of desks. Hattrick felt slightly faint. That wasn't Greg Ryder in the back, was it? And he sincerely hoped that TK wasn't talking to Johnny. Hattrick nearly fainted when he saw the very back of the room.
Sitting beside Russel was a face he had hoped not to see.
That familiar wild black hair. Those familiar blue eyes with an almost wolfish look to them. That arrogant seeming smirk.
And that accursed X-shaped mark that certainly marked this year as being a grim one.