Teacher's Pet [Elvis]

Chapter 2 - Spending Time with Mr. Blue Eyes

So this was Lauderdale Courts. By no stretch of the imagination did I follow Elvis home after he left, I just happened to drive by the apartment complex on my way back to my own apartment which was down that road about a mile and more into the city and on the fifth floor. It was one of the decent available places that was affordable for a once-elementary school music teacher.

"This looks like low-income housing," I muttered as I looked around the U-shaped complex. "He said that his father does odd-jobs and his mother works as a financial clerk at a hospital. Not exactly high-paying. But maybe it's better than what they had before."

I drove on down the road in my '46 Chevvy car that was the same color as Elvis's eyes, a birthday/high school graduation present from my parents. Dad worked at a car dealership, so he was able to get it next to half off. My parents weren't exactly rich, either. Then again, they always had to stretch since they raised six kids. I was second-oldest.

"Maybe I'll learn more of his story later," I said as I drove, then I immediately reprimanded myself. No, he was my student. If only there were guys like him that were around my age. That would be nice. But I didn't want romance at the moment. I had to focus on getting into my job, and once that happened, focusing on it completely. Teachers were there to give students enrichment and learning, and that was what I would do.

But those blue eyes were destined to distract me. And that drawl. And that smirk. And that low voice.

I couldn't wait to hear him sing with a voice that sounded like his!

"Stop thinking about it, Abigail!" I ordered myself. "Golly, he's seventeen. And your student. Maybe I should've listened to everyone when they said not to work at a high school."

I came to my building, parked, then headed upstairs to my apartment. It was rather bare at the moment since I would buy the necessary furniture with my future paychecks, like a sofa, bookshelf, kitchen table, desk... I had my bed. That was a must. But it was a mattress on the floor at the moment. The bedframe would come later as well. All the appliances were there in the apartment, excluding a clothing washer. I had to go to a laundromat for that. Well, it was like reliving college in that aspect.

Thankfully, a telephone was installed, and I was able to call a local restaurant and have them deliver a meal to me. I would go grocery shopping on Saturday when I had more time. I had a lesson to plan and papers to read and grade—I would give them all full marks since this was a get-to-now-you assignment. It would be ordering food by phone and stopping at a deli to satisfy my hunger until I had groceries.

The papers were sprawled out in front of me as I sat in the middle of my empty living room that was only a sixth of the size of my classroom, so... it wasn't too big. But I liked the burgundy carpet. I was a fan of reds and pinks. I had several skirts, dresses and blouses of those colors, along with neutrals like whites, tans, browns and black to go with them.

As I sorted the papers, Elvis's paper came up again. My heart started going, so I set it aside and focused on the other papers I hadn't read yet.

~ ~ ~

A week quickly passed, and I was on week 2 of my high school teaching career. So far so good. I had met and talked with most of my students, and I knew where a lot of them stood as far as knowledge of music. These kids mostly liked the stuff they heard on the radio, none of the classical stuff. Well, a few of them liked it, like the seniors.

Elvis was one of the few who enjoyed classical music, among other genres. I found that out when we were talking about Mozart in class, and he rose his hand and said that it was a shame that people didn't really listen to him or the other classic composers anymore. I really tried not to like him more for that opinion.