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The School Type Of Person

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Rough Draft: I casually look up during the middle of my huge biology test just to stare at the clock. I just want to get out of this prison, also known as school. Like always, I didn 't bother to study for my test. I was too busy trying to find out where my drunken mom had ran off to last night. But, even if she didn 't run off I probably still wouldn 't have studied. I am not the "school type of person." I 'd prefer to spend my nights eating the little amount of food we have in the nasty old refrigerator, sitting on the couch listening to the soothing yells of my parents. As soon as I heard the bell ring I ran out the bus as fast as I can so I can get the front row seat. That 's where the air conditioner is. All of the other people that ride that bus have iPhones, laptops, and mp3 players. Some even have those little mini electronic fans you can buy at Wal-Mart. I don 't even have one of those. But here I am, sitting on this bus with my backpack, which is one of those reusable bags you can get from Publix for 99 cents, and my clothes that I get mostly from goodwill. Sometimes I get hand me downs from my mom, but I can 't wear her clothes because they are all super slutty. Both my mom and my dad don 't give a crap about me, what I do or what I wear. They both spend all of their money and time on drugs and alcohol. The bus makes a loud squeezing noise as it comes to a stop right in front of my house. As I exit the bus I trip over my really baggy jeans, and fall flat on my

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