Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Hi Luci,” she mumbles, and I can’t believe it. I caught my sister making out with… ew, Derek? He’s such a creep!
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“What does it look like we’re doing, buzz off,” the pimple-head demands before laying his hand back on Gracie’s ass.
Her face is a mix between lust and embarrassment.
“Hey now,” I shove his hand away.
“Luci,” Gracie pleads.
“Get back to class, Gracie,” I command.
“Who the hell are you?” Pimple-head starts freaking out.
“Take your hands off my sister, or I will fuck you up,” I pronunciate each word at an unnaturally slow pace.
“Whatever,” he shrugs, pulling away from her. “Gracie, you’re sister is fucking crazy.”
“Derek, wait!” Gracie calls, torn between if she should follow him or stay and talk to me.
I win; he’s already too far away.
“Luci, I can’t believe you!” She turns back to me, pissed.
“Gracie, that kid is nasty,” I tell her. “You could do so much better.”
“It’s none of your business!”
“Luci?” Mr. Harrington walks up behind me. “Everything okay?” I ignore him, too focused on my little sister.
“Who are you to judge me?” She shouts. “I hate you, Luci! You don’t even know me, so stay out of my life and leave me alone!”
I watch as she runs down the hall, stung by her words.
Mr. Harrington is silent as I trade books in my locker, slamming the door hard with anger. We walk to his classroom quietly, and I sit in my usual seat, watching as he pulls a chair up to the other side of my desk.
“Do you want to-”
“No,” I interrupt.
“I have a sister too,” he offers.
“I know,” I watch as he opens his brown paper bag lunch. “She’s my English teacher.”
“Right,” he laughs. “Well, we’re twins… fraternal,” he sighs. “It’s not easy when they want to be friends with your friends, or date people you hate. Hell, it’s still not easy.” I don’t say anything as he continues talking, trying to help. “I know the feeling of wanting to take care of them, and how annoying it can be when they don’t listen. I practically got Debbie her teaching job here, and she still won’t leave me alone,” he smiles.
He takes a bite of his sandwich. It’s cut neatly down the middle, like his Mom made it or something. Or maybe he’s just that dorky and makes it like that for himself. The thought makes me smile.
“Want some?” He offers the other half to me and I shake my head no. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I’m not hungry,” I shrug.
“Okay, Trouble,” he sighs and I bite my lip to stop my smile from getting out of control. He called me that the other day too.
“Trouble?” I raise my eyebrow in question.
“You did almost start a fight in school,” he’s chuckles. “I believe you were going to fuck him up, your words, not mine,” he holds up his hands, as if excusing his bad language. Still, the way he says fuck makes me tremble. I can’t help the thought as it pops into my head: Yes, let’s do exactly that.
“Oh my God, shut up,” I playfully kick him under the table, embarrassed over what happened, and now humiliated over the fact that I just kicked him and told him to shut up. What the hell is my problem? He’s a teacher! A figure of authority, and here I am inappropriately blurring those lines!
I’m relieved when he doesn’t seem to notice, or care, and falls right into the conversation.
“What?” He replies with a mischievous look in his eye.
“Just how much did you see back there?”
“Oh the whole thing,” he’s serious in a joyously frisky way. “You’re pretty cute when you’re tough.”
I don’t want to draw any attention to his endearing words and have another beautiful incident on our hands like yesterday, but I’m bursting inside. I look down and smile before meeting his gleaming eyes.
“And what would your defense have been?” I’m curious. “The teacher who idly stood by and watched it happen?”
“Please,” he makes a face. “That gangly kid? I wasn’t worried. He wasn’t going to touch you.”
I laugh at his absurd confidence. “And if I was the one to start something?”
“You could take him,” he says, clearly fighting a smirk. “Looks like he deserved it anyway.”
“Seriously!” I agree. “She could do so much better!”
“Definitely,” he concurs before taking another bite of his sandwich.
Before we know it, the bell rings. The sound of it hums in my ear as I’m brought back to the real world. Did thirty minutes already pass?
Our most recent easy and carefree conversation only makes me crush harder, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking, if he feels the same thing too. He rights the chair that he pulled up opposite me before throwing out his paper lunch bag and stepping onto the platform. I hear the screeching of the chalk against the blackboard as he writes, waiting for the empty classroom to fill up.