Hanging With the Senior Boys

VIII

The temperature was so low the mercury froze; at least that's what could be felt. Bitter winds thrashed around the school, so hard, it was impossible to believe that it was still fall. My pencil collected it's thoughts much as it could in French while the leaves sounded, crunching one by one like tiny bullets. I shivered, as the wind came from the screen. Within seconds, it was slammed to a close.

"Excuse me Ms. Avery, but what makes you think you can shut my classroom window without asking?" The teacher snapped at the girl.

Sam Avery. She stood 5'7 at the max, with at least two feet of brown waved locks. She was a sophomore, but looked like a freshman in college. Not because her face was matured or anything, she was just one of the girls that were blessed with the face on an angel, though she wore jackets in her preference of style. Her father came from Puerto Rico and her mother was born in France, so she had a distinguished background when it came to life.

"Because it's cold, and you didn't," Sam said, taking her seat.

"But that doesn't give you the right to shut my window when I didn't ask you to, and you didn't ask me."

"Frankly I don't care, it was cold."

"Well you shouldn't care when you have to come Saturday for detention."

"I really don't, because I'm going out of town on Friday. Nice try."

"Either you come or it's a suspension."

"Either you talk to my mom or talk to my dad."

Ms. Spearman sat quiet, and proceeded to write her up on the computer. Sam's eyes rolled at her vain attempt to settle her down. She was new to the school, and had already had enough write-ups to spread around the world three times; all of which came from different teachers. She sat next to me.

"You know this is your third one this week in her class," I said.

"Thanks for counting," she said laughing, "I lost track."

"It's not funny, it's serious. You have to have an intervention meeting."

"I've been to it before for language arts, it's nothing. They tell you to act better, and go about their day. Besides, half of the ones I've gotten have been wiped off because I technically wasn't in the wrong, I just said something sarcastically, which can't be written up."

"Don't you want a good rep with the teachers. If they don't like you, they can easily hurt your grade. They can round, you do realize that?"

"Sixth in my class honey, and I've just gotten here. I don't need a curve."

I had to laugh now, "You're actually cool. In a crazy way of course."

"You are too, in a geeky way."

"Do I need to write you up too Ms. Spencer?" Ms. Spearman scolded.

"No ma'am."

I went back into the silence of the work, and listened as she clicked the keyboard like a rabid cheetah once again.

"You should come to my party Saturday," read a note discreetly passed onto my desk.

I wrote back, "Yes."

Soon her number was passed, with the instructions to call her for the details. In the heat of the hour, we were dismissed, and I could begin questioning her as much as I needed, but she disappeared with the hall's rapid foam.

He wrapped his arms around my stomach from behind, leaning over and kissing my forehead, "My Lovely Lexi. I've brought food that isn't disgusting for lunch."