Le Freak, C'est Chic

The wiry boy that can't sit still looked at me as I desperately tried to get him to work on his assignment. He stared and blurted out in a Tourettes-like way, "You have a weird face!" A speck of his slick saliva from his stabbing mouth landed on my upper lip.

I looked at the clock and realized I still had half an hour before I could quietly slip my disfigured poisoned head out of the classroom.