Second Chance for the Player

Chapter Three

As I walked to English class the next day I met Everett in the hallway.  He seemed very out of it and exhausted.

            “Bad night?” I asked him laughing at his un-perfected appearance.

            “You don’t even want to know,” he answered.

            I assumed it was about Landon but I did want to know details of his immature behaviors. 

            “Oh I think I do,” I replied.

            He exhaled loudly and began mimicking, “Oh I played lacrosse since I was two years old, my parents own three houses in France, and I think my bed should be over here, I’m smarter than all of you, blah blah blah blah blah.”

            “Ouch,” I replied making a distasteful face.

            “Yeah, try living with that.  I could barely get through one night.”

            “Just tell the office you don’t want him as a roommate?” I suggested.

            He sighed exasperated, “Can’t, he told us all about how his parents donated thousands of dollars here so they’re going to let him do whatever he wants.”

            Typical, he had to buy his way into everything. 

            “Just tell him not to be such a jerk,” I told him.

            Everett laughed and tousled the top of my head with his large strong hand.

            “If only it were that easy.”

            I laughed and shrugged my shoulders obviously oblivious to the ways of the male mind.  However, I was very skilled in my English class and that was where we just entered.  I placed my stack of books slowly on the desk as Everett slammed his book bag down on the wood top.  Sitting down on the desk I waited for the next few minutes for the class to begin.  Everett was slumped down into the chair with his phone in hand. 

            When our professor Mr. Johnson entered the classroom in his usual bright tie and a travel mug of extra dark coffee in hand everyone immediately straightened up in their seats.   Not because he was the most strict teacher or the mean one that hits students with a ruler, but mostly because everyone actually enjoyed the class.  Not many people could say they liked a course they took at a top school like ours, but Mr. Johnson was a nice guy and he knew how to make class good.  He was not young, but not old, around early thirties I supposed. 

            We all watched him settle his things on the white desk facing away from the window in the corner of the front of the class.  He pulled on his glasses and walked to the center of the classroom in front of a green chalkboard. 

            “Today we are going to be starting a project!” He exclaimed loudly as some others in the back of the class groaned.  “I know, I know it’s just so exciting!” He said with a smile.  “Now I assume you all read the last few chapters in the textbook—“

            The dark wood door swung opened and someone I never hoped to enter one of my classes stood there with his hand pressed up against the grain.  He looked around the class and his eyes found me and he smirked.  I slowly turned my head to look at the wall next to me—which was much more appealing than Landon. 

            “Being late is not the best way to start off your entrance into our education system Mr. Bentley,” Mr. Johnson informed him.