Jim Halpert

BASED ON A TRUE STORY!!

It was the History class, last period on of Friday,but unlike other days no one was falling asleep. Everyone was staring at teacher with wide wide open eyes!
I was nervous, waiting for the teacher to give me a chance to talk to Jim. As soon as the teacher turned her back to us, I spun in my seat to face Jim.
“Dude! This is SO wrong!” I gasped, but he didn’t notice me because he was too involved in his cell phone.
“Jim?” I called him angrily. “Huh?”He finally noticed me. “What is it?” he said when he saw my serious look. “I think you shouldn’t do this. We shouldn’t…” he stopped me by raising his hand, he continued my words: “We shouldn’t do this, right? That’s what you wanna say? We already talked about this with the whole class: No one has the freaking assignment ready. If she checks it we are all going to fail.”
“I know…But is this worth it?” I asked. “We would never know until we don’t do it, right?” he said, raising his eyebrows, putting a smile on; like any other time that he wanted you to admit his rightness. “What if you get caught?” I whispered nervously. “I won’t. I’m sending it via Bluetooth.” He replied. “What if you do?” I insisted? He didn’t reply, just stared at me for a few seconds and then threw his shoulders up, meaning “I don’t know” or in Jim’s words “Who cares?”
I seated back anxiously, chewing on my nails. Five minutes later the teacher’s cell phone rang. I held my breath in, and I could swear that everybody else’s breath was held in too. The teacher stopped and looked at her purse confusingly. “I’m so sorry people; I think I forgot to turn it off. Sorry.” She rushed to her desk, reaching her purse as soon as she could. She pulled out the cell phone…”Yes! She is looking at it. I knew she would!” Jim murmured behind me. “shhhhh!” I said, kicking his foot under the desk. I looked back at my teacher; her face was now chalk white. “Oh my God!” she gasped, putting her hand on her chest. The phony whispers of “is everything ok?” and “what’s wrong?” soon were all over the class – some filthy irony; we were the ones who knew what was wrong. When the teacher gained enough control over her voice she said: “I…I just got a text…my…my son has had an accident. It’s from his friend.” She didn’t say anything else; she just grabbed her purse and ran out of the class room.
As soon as the door closed behind her, the class burst into whispers, this time I knew they were on Jim, blaming on him for what they have wanted him to do. “Is that what you wanted? Believe me; you would be lucky if these kids don’t tell on you.” I said furiously. Jim looked around, not the slightest worry sign in his face; looking back at me again he threw his shoulders up again: “Who cares, huh?”