Call It An Obsession ⊷ Brendon Urie || Book 1

Call It An Obsession (NEW!)

Call It An Obsession

I walked into English class promptly, sliding my backpack off my shoulders and placing it on the surface of my seat. Within an instant, I watched my belongings plummet off the side of the chair and onto the floor, the contents spilling out across the linoleum. A series of dry, heinous laughs echoed from the desks around me as I dove for my items, my chair sliding away out of the corner of my eye.

"Ah, that's much better," the boy next to me mocked, throwing his feet up over my seat and putting his arms behind his head, "thanks for the footrest." As his friends continue to laugh, he focuses on me, lowering his voice and looking directly into my eyes, "I'll say we're even now."

I was too embarrassed to speak, as I frantically slid paper after paper back into each designated folder. His snide comment was referring to the bad score he had gotten on the quiz we graded in class. Brett was used to his friends cheating for him, falsely providing him with better scores than he had earned, but I was the one who had the pleasure of grading his test last class. I marked him off fifteen points for his work, as it was more than obvious that he hadn't even read the book assigned. He failed, unsurprisingly, and it was apparent that he wasn't going to let me live that down. By the time I'd collected all the contents of my bag, Brett was already engaged in a conversation with his girlfriend. I had done no wrong, and I was not going to let them believe they had gotten to me. If this was the way that I was going to be treated for my honesty, then so be it. I was not going to be made to feel ashamed for doing the right thing.

As the bell rang, Mr. Urie came into the classroom, briefcase in hand, and directed a curt nod toward the full classroom of Seniors. Everyone continued on with their conversations, unaware that our teacher had even entered the room. His black leather coat was thrown over his arm, and his dark brown hair hung over his eyes as if he'd just ran in from the parking lot. Once he noticed me standing at my table looking troubled, he cocked his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. I gestured meekly to the empty space in front of me where my chair had previously been.

"Maybe we should learn to use our words, hm? After all, this is an English class, Ms. Miller," he retorted, a playful look in his eye.

He laid the worn leather case down gently on the surface of his desk and placed both hands on the side of his desk chair. Wheeling the chair in front of himself, he guided his seat over to where I stood, "here you go."

"No, you don't have to do that," I objected, "I don't want to take your chair from you. I appreciate it, though."

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," he proclaimed with a swift wink, motioning for me to sit down. I finally gave in, laying my backpack on the floor beside me and taking a seat on the warm surface, "and Mr. Bradford," he continued, clapping his hands together, receiving the attention of the entire room full of students, "I'll let you keep your gracious footrest for now, but I'd say it's only fair trade for you to meet me tomorrow morning for a before-school detention... now I'll say we're all even," the majority of the class broke out into a plethora of noises confirming that Mr. Urie had finished the conversation triumphant, "back to our dear friend William Shakespeare, everyone get out your copies of Romeo and Juliet."

I felt strange sitting in Mr. Urie's chair, especially since I was in the front of the room where everyone could see me. I always sat in the front of the class in every class I was in. Most called me a goody-two-shoes, but I didn't mind. I knew these classmates of mine wouldn't amount to much in their adulthood, and I wasn't going to let their childish antics and nicknames disturb my peace. Sitting in the front of the room gave me a clear vantage point and allowed me to pay attention to every bit of the lessons my teachers gave with no distractions from those around me.