Chatterbox: Inkwell

Trippy?

A story by ME!

Just a critique, please. When I post the next part, it will probably be directly under the first post made on this thread. (I try to keep things together.)

Capiche?

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You
know your day has reached when you trip on your way
out of Algebra and are instantly transported several hundred years into
the past.

    Hi. I’m Meyla Deathworth. Believe this time-tripping yarn if you want to, ‘cause I barely believe it myself.
   
It started as a normal-enough day. I wasn’t really at 100%, having just
recovered from a violent cold this weekend. My already-bad Monday was
being slowly worsened as my make-up homework piled up like Canadian
snow.
   
“Miss Deathworth, if you would see me after class, please.” My Algebra
teacher, Mr. Evans, beckoned. My friends shot mischievous glances at me,
as if to ask, What did YOU do?
I
rolled my eyes in their direction attempting to concentrate on my graph
of a parabola. The bell rang, and I gathered up my notebook, textbook,
and pencil case. I threaded my way through tables, chairs, and students
on my way to Mr. Evans’s desk. He ripped the top Post-It note that he
had been scribbling on off the pad, and handed it to me. “Page 413,
problems 8-12 even, 20-38 even,” he said, gesturing at the textbook
spread in front of him. “Copy the 8.3 to 8.5 notes.” He paper-clipped a
small stack of papers together. I accepted them, and trudged toward the
door, dreading the next onslaught of make-up homework.
   
The bell rang again. I was now officially late for class. I sped up,
tripping over the recycling bin on the way out the door. I dropped my
load, arms extending to break my fall. A prickling sensation flowed over
my skin. The floor seemed to give way to a dark void, laced with random
wisps of light and color. My single, irrational thought pulsed over and
over in my mind: I’m not gonna be able to do my homework now...
    The pulsating, rippling sensation gripped me in its fuzzy hands and I lost consciousness.

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Please, constructive criticism! I dislike flames (doesn't everybody?)! They shall be fed to Garth!

Garthwumpian Flopp says Mmmm... tAstY flAmES....