Smile For Me (Student/Teacher)

Meet The Brothers

...

The way we settled the previous day was perfect for me. We leave things how they were and act like none of them had ever spoken a word about my dad.

I was nervous about going to school. It would be awkward, and I wanted badly to avoid my locker that happened to be right across from Mr. Grant, but that wasn't possible.

Mr. Grant was one of those teachers who walked down the halls to shake off his anger, which was all the time. I wasn't ever sure why he did it in the first place because he always ended up seeing me and becoming even more angry.

This morning he paced the crowded halls with coffee in his hand. When he'd take a sip his eyes would water and the steam would hit his face hard and curl outwards. I swear he drank it scoarching hot just to hurt himself.

He hadn't seen me yet, but he felt my cautious stare and just when he turned around to glare at me I spun around and quickly worked my combination so I could leave as quickly as possible.

It was an A day, but that never made a difference. I had him every single day. He was my eigth and last period of the day, and oddly enough I kind of pitied him for having me in his everyday class. It must be hard to be forced to teach someone you absolutely hate, when in then you don't teach them anything except how to hold back smacktalking your teacher.

"Diana, this is beautiful." My art teacher told me. I stayed behind for a short minute before going off to my last class. "I'm sorry I had to tell him to stay after and watch you. I know it wasn't at all neccesary, I shouldn't have emailed him."

It seemed like my day went FIRSTPERIOD-SECOND-THIRD-FOURTH- Eigt-h-h-h-h-h-h Perio-o-o-o-od... It was so long with Mr. Grant, because we all dreaded him.

In his class I sat by one of the most attractive guys at my school. He wasn't the most modest, but he was very respectful. To me, at least. His name was Ryan.

"Diana, how did you do on that art project?" He asked me thoughtfully.

"It was.." I thought for a minute. "Not how I wanted it to turn out." I dared to take a peek at Mr. Grant and saw he was stabbing me with angry looks and I immediately blushed and looked away. "But it's fine."

"Ah, sorry." He smiled at me his popular boyish smile. I'd like him, if he wasn't such a little boy. "Are you going to Avery Johnson's party this Friday?"

I shook my head. I never went to parties, they weren't my scene. I always felt so out of place there. "Why not?" He asked me and I shrugged. "Well, do you want to be my date there?" And he gave me that boyish smile again.

"Uh-"

"Alright." Mr. Grant stepped up from his roller chair and spoke loudly and sternly. "We're going on with yesterdays work since most of you don't know what you're doing." He spat, and went through a handout of printed notes. "These aren't mine, they're Mr. Joseph's." Mr. Grant muttered to himself, almost ashamed that he would be suspected of doing something nice for once.

"I'll give you ten minutes to look over them, if you talk I'm going to make you leave." He spoke hard and passively when he sat down and began typing onto his computer.

I looked over them and understood completely. I really liked Mr. Joseph, and he was the one tutoring me. He was an early-sixties, very sweet man who would go over with me plenty of times so I'd understand his work. And I made sure with him to keep it a secret that he was tutoring me. I was afraid Mr. Grant would be angry and yell at me for being stupid or something.

"Alright, times up." He said quickly after about five minutes.

Around the class you heard frustrated sighs and angry hands trying not to slam so hard on their desks. I wasn't able to finish reading the notes either.

"It's sad we have to go over things like this because a large handful of you guys are failing." Mr. Grant stood up stiffly.

I tried to picture him calm, him happy. Maybe him with a beer in his hand or something, I wasn't sure. I tried to picture him in one of my brothers' positions: laying an elbow on the counter with a happy grin and gulping beer while watching baseball. It was impossible. I couldn't picture him smiling at all, because I've never seen him do it.

I wasn't failing his class. Like I said before, I bet I was one of his top students, but that was because of Mr. Joseph.

After Mr. Grant went over the lesson once more, class was over. Meaning school was over and I got to leave his hatred-filled aura. Everyone was out before I even got to grab my bag, so I was the last one to even stand up.

I felt his eyes on me and it felt like I had to be quiet to leave, or else he'd strike. Like an animal.

Then he spoke, "Diana."