The Magician's Assistant

[16] Hesitance

         “I can see that there’ll need to be a few seat changes in this class,” Mr. Bernard commented dryly. “You guys are how old? Seventeen, eighteen? This is ridiculous, but I suppose you’ll have to be treated like first graders.”

          After just a week of school having started, I’d already decided that I didn’t like this teacher one bit. The person he partnered me with just added to my annoyance.

          “Hey Rachel,” Jared smiled. He placed his folders and pen down on the desk next to mine, dropping down into his chair.

          “Hello Jared.” I kept my voice neutral, revealing no emotion. I used my hair as a barrier between us, ignoring how his arm brushed mine. It bugged me, raising the hairs on my arm.

          The entire class switched seats according to Mr. Bernard’s liking. Once he was finished playing his version of the game musical chairs, he clapped his hands together like a walrus.

          “Now that that’s settled, please take out your textbooks and write notes on section 5.4. No talking,” Mr. Bernard hobbled back over to his desk, sinking deeply into his heavily cushioned chair. He turned on his computer, probably deciding to play some ridiculous game online.

          I hated that man.

          “So, what’re you doing Friday night?” Jared asked me, bobbing his pencil between his fingers.

          I continued writing diligently into my notebook, scribbling my notes furiously. I pretended to not hear him, though it was difficult to ignore him.

          Jared tapped my notebook with his fingers. “Rachel?”

          I peeked up at him from the corner of my eye, glaring. “We’re supposed to be quiet. Do your notes,” I snapped.

          “What’re you doing Friday night?” he asked, ignoring my demand.

          “Sitting on my couch watching T.V. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do!” I hissed.

          “Rachel Cooper, didn’t I say ‘No talking’?” Mr. Bernard scolded from his desk. “That’s a demerit. Four more and you’ll lose credits.”

          I gaped, open-mouthed at his fat carcass sitting at the desk. He was searching for a pencil to write with his chubby hands, clumsily picking it up.

          Immediately, my scowl snapped over to Jared. There was enough fire in my eyes to burn his retinas.

          “My fault, Mr. Bernard. I was asking Rachel for a pencil,” Jared covered easily, reclining back into his chair like a stretching cat. His leering smile somewhat reminded me of one.

          Mr. Bernard glowered stonily at us, but none-the-less scribbled out what he had written.

          I viewed my notes again, not bothering to say ‘thank you’ to Jared. It was his fault to begin with, so I felt I didn’t have to.

          “You’re welcome,” Jared mumbled quietly.

          I looked daggers down at my pencil.

          “Look, about Friday,” Jared continued and I rolled my eyes at his persistence. “Go out to dinner with me?”

          My note-scrawling hand froze for a second. “What?”

          “You heard me,” he shrugged.

          “Stop talking, we’re going to get in trouble,” I insisted, returning my thoughts back to the math notes.