LearningtoAdapt

 I walk silently away from my AP arts class, and my so-far favorite teacher, to a bleak hallway of lifeless zombies; the school year has barely started and most of them already hate their lives. Wonderful. I stare off into the distance; pretending, now to be a zombie myself. I look around at people's reactions. They're looking at me as if I'm psychotic. Why am I so weird? Sigh, off to class. I get through most of the hallways, and down to a dark, gloomy, gray-and-black room. The lights are off but I, yet, can still see Morte. He's got his feet up on the desk and is leaning back in his chair. I come around behind him, while he's looking for