Chances

Chapter 10: Nine Years

Nine years later...

As school ended, I rapped my knuckles against the door of my English teacher.

"Come in," a rough voice said.

Textbooks pressed against my chest as I shut the door behind me then stood in front of the overweight man, whose jotting down grades in his book with his pen.

The classroom would have been empty if it weren't for the bad kids who had to serve their detention. Each of the thirty-three desks have their own tiny space.

Posters of William Shakespeare, Ernest Hemingway, and Allen Poe hung stiffly on the blue walls.

On each side of the room, there were two bookshelves: one of them was filled with school textbooks and the other had classic novels.

Behind the teacher's desk is a blackboard filled with our latest assignments, projects, and tests. The white tile floor was shrouded in dirt, bits of paper, and dust.

"Hello," I said politely. "I would like to turn in some extra credit."

The teacher nodded very slowly then placed the sheet of paper on top of the stack of homework.

"Is there anything I could-" I started to say.

"Why do you need extra credit?" he asked. "You have very perfect scores, unlike some people."

He stared hard at the kids who were sitting at the back of the classroom, playing on their phones.

"I know," I agreed. "But I did it, in case I want to get a really good grade on my GED."

"Okay," he shrugged.

I lowered my purple backpack on the floor, unzipped it, and took out my red English folder.

"I finished it in like, two minutes." I beamed.

"Cool," he said. His blue eyes were wavering at mine.

A patch of sweat grew in his yellow buttoned shirt.

He wore long khaki pants, white tennis shoes, and had a silver wedding ring around his middle finger.

The english teacher had no hair, a long nose, and plump lips.

Quietly, I pulled out the sheet of paper out of my folder and showed it to him.

Instead of it being a five paged paper on The Color Purple, it was a photo of him and a senior female classmate, kissing in the computer room.

His face gone pale as he yanked it, crumpled the picture, and tossed it in the trash.

"No worries, Mr. Beans." I whispered. "I made at least twenty copies."

Terrified, Mr. Beans gets out of his seat and walks out of the classroom. Meanwhile, I took my folder of pictures and followed him.

The minute I walked out of the classroom, Mr. Beans stood very still, crossing his arms.

"Listen," he began. "I don't want to get the police involved-"

"No, you listen." I interrupted. "Either tell the principal and the police what you did, or I will."

All of a sudden, Mr. Beans grabbed my arm and twisted it.

"Listen, you smart little-"

"Aren't you aware that we're in a hallway?" I hissed.

Taking a deep breath, Mr. Beans released my arm.

"You can't do this to me and Anne, okay?" he asked.

"You're right," I agreed. "I can't do this, unless Anne is forty-six. But unfortunately for you, she is only eighteen years old."