How to Be Cliche (A Novel)

(7) Mr. Trinidad

                  Sin didn't even look phased by my words. In fact, all he did was nod briefly and walk back to the front of the class. "Class, I'm going to be nice today and not give any of you detention. If I find tomorrow that any of you are going to continue being rude or disrespectful towards me in the classroom environment, I have my own ways to punish you and make sure it doesn't happen again."

                  He then shot a glare at the two muscular boys laughing up a storm by the window, shutting them up immediately. Sin had a way about him that I was able to see, but couldn't quite figure out. It was as if he had switch that he could flick up and down at will that didn't affect his expression at all, and this switch projected his rage merely through his eyes.

                  "Tyler and Baron," Sin warned.

                  "Sorry, Sin--Mr. Trinidad, I was--uh, asking Baron for a pencil. I just remembered, I have a whole pack in here," Tyler stuttered,  scrambling to get their pencils out of his backpack.

                  Sin went back to the front of the classroom and looked down at the class, letting out a few long, controlled breaths, before turning his back and starting to write some more words on the chalk board.

                  Ok, why did Sin and all guys in general have magnificent legs without any cellulite and perfectly plump asses? Pushing aside my absolute hate for everything with brown shaggy hair and stupid Caribbean blue eyes, it was refreshing to see a guy with a nice, firm tush that didn't wear jeans that were so low that their boxers and kneecaps showed. I mean, who was the idiot that decided that even looked good? It just makes guys more prone to sexual assault, if you ask me.

                  Tilting my head to the side, I admired my new teacher's butt from a different angle. Did he even have a bad side? Anywhere?

                  "I'll be collecting these in twenty minutes," I heard Sin vaguely say.

                  Realizing that I had been staring at Sin's ass for at least twenty seconds straight, I turned my face downwards and started to scribble on my notebook.

                  "Pssst," I said, looking to my left. "Pssssssssssssssssssst!"

                  Goth Boy on my left looked up from the drawing he had been vigorously creating for twenty minutes and snarled at me.

                  Cautiously, I leaned over to his desk until he side eyed me with a glare that would have terrified anyone else. "Is Mr. Trinidad gay?" I whispered to him.

                  "Go F yourself."

                  "So he's autosexual, then? He only likes himself?"

                  "Die."

                  "That doesn't answer my question."

                  "I worship Satan," he whispered back in a low hiss, leaning his head forward and letting his long black hair fall into his eyes. Goth Boy then went back to his drawing. He was pale, with heavy black eye shadow and black lipstick, and he looked as if he wanted my head on a kabob.

                  I motioned to his doodle on his desk that he had been hacking apart with his pencil. It looked like some sort of demon. "I like your drawing," I said, then, "very...dark. I'm Pepper. I'm New Girl, if you didn't catch that already."