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Class droned on. Physics was my least favorite science. My grade hovered somewhere in the low nineties, a miracle considering I didn't understand what was going on most of the time. I was relieved again when the bell rang.

The halls flooded with students and backpacks, and I followed the main flow to my last class of the day. Literature was a nice reprieve from my other courses. Reading and writing came naturally to me, so the work was fun if not easy.

Rachel greeted me from her desk in the front of the classroom when I strolled in. Something about her grin suggested mischief.

Collapsing into the desk beside her, I arched an eyebrow. "What's that look for?"

"You cannot believe our luck," she stated confidently.

"What'd you mean?"

"Look at the board."

My eyes swung over to the head of the room. The assignments Mrs. Exley normally wrote on the board for us to begin had been erased. Instead, the board was empty with the exception of two little words.

Mr. Whitaker

"We have a new teacher?" I queried before looking back at my friend.

"We have the new teacher." She beamed proudly.

"What're you-"

Realization overcame me. The new teacher. As in, the one who spilled his sweet tea all over me.

Right at that moment he walked through the door. My mouth fell open. Contrary to what Rachel believed, my luck was horrible. This wasn't good news for me. I had a difficult time functioning around attractive men. There was a reason I hadn't befriended any outstandingly handsome guys in my lifetime; I couldn't get close to someone so distracting.

"Hello, everyone," Mr. Whitaker said. After introducing his name, he did a thorough scan of the room, meeting every set of eyes.

When they came to me, I almost ducked my head. It would've been easier to hide my head but more awkward in the long run. Our new teacher smiled apologetically at me and I tried to return a forgiving one. I'd prefer if we never spoke of the tea incident again.

"What happened to Mrs. Exley?" a student in the back asked.

"Well." He leaned against his desk, crossing his long legs at the ankles. "Mrs. Exley resigned and I have taken her place. That is all I know and all you need to know."

An odd response, I thought suspiciously. What if I want to know more? Does he plan on stopping me? I brought my rush of rebellion down; the man was just making a point. Not being controlling.

"She always did seem unhappy," Rachel whispered to me.

I nodded my head. Mrs. Exley had been an older woman, nice but a total pushover. The class had a way of manipulating her into simplifying assignments and the like. While I didn't enjoy watching her surrender to pushy students, my one voice wouldn't have accomplished anything.

Mr. Whitaker, on the other hand, sounded plenty capable of keeping us in check. Once the roll call was taken, he ordered us to open our textbooks to Hamlet. Evidently, we were picking up right from where we left off. Each character in the play was assigned to a student, and they took turns reading their roles. The situation made for an entertaining affair.

We stopped reading ten minutes before class was over. After Mr. Whitaker went over our homework, an analysis of our favorite Hamlet character, he told us we could start packing up our belongings. I was zipping up my backpack when he strolled up to my desk.

Meeting Mr. WhitakerWhere stories live. Discover now