Yes Sir, No Sir (A Robert Downey Jr. Student/Teacher Romance)

Chapter One

My alarm clock shattered my dreams of blue skys and white sand, it's crude, unrelenting scream slicing through my brain like a knife through butter. Groaning, I rolled over to check the time. Nine o'clock. Oh, I thought, it's fine, I've got ages before school - wait. Nine o'clock?

"Shit!" I flung back my duvet and scrambled to find my clothes. Jeans, skirts, t-shirts and dresses were thrown in every direction until I found something suitable to wear. Black skinnies, and a red v-neck jumper, good. I had no time to fix my hair so the mass of fiery red curls were left to lie where they lay.

"Shoes, shoes, where the hell are my shoes?" I eventually found them, a battered pair of Converse I had had since the age of twelve.

"Mom, where are you?" I screeched, stomping through the house, banging on every surface that I saw. When I get my hands on her, I swear I'll do some damage!

"Bedroom," I heard her mumble. Typical, sound asleep while I'm forced to run around the house like a demented sausage.

"It's nine o'clock, get up!" Honestly, you'd think she'd get me up, not the other way around. I chuckle as I hear her swear and bump into every single thing that she comes to.

Seconds later the door is flung open and my almost identical twin is standing there. My mother's shock of red hair is pinned back, her lithe frame barely filling the doorway. Pulling her down the stairs, I toss her her car keys I'd retrieved from the fridge (yes, the fridge), and dump her purse in her hands.

"Whoa," she laughed, a tinkly little sound I was happy to inherit, "Where's the fire, Sam?" It was an old saying that had passed through our family from my grandad. He used to call me Sam after my favourite cartoon character Fireman Sam, every time I was in a rush, and the name had stuck.

"New school," I reminded her, "Y'know, Saint thingie-what's-the-name High?" My mom laughed again, and climbed into the car.

"I hadn't forgotten, Zee," she said as she fired up the engine, "And it's Saint James' High."

I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever. We're gonna be late, no matter what his name is."

Another giggle from my mom and we were off, finally.

"Holy. Shit." The building was huge! Its drab grey walls give me the creeps, and the other students staring at me did nothing to help.

As we trudged up the steps to the school, I couldn't help the feeling of nervousness and dread that settled in the pit of my stomach and stayed there.

"Hello," the bright young woman in the office labeled 'Miss Green' tinkled as soon as we walked in. She couldn't have been older than twenty-five and I immediately liked her.

"You must be-" she glanced down at the slip of paper in her hand "Ah yes, Ziva Olston and her mother, please take a seat!" She waved a perfectly manicured hand at her desk. We sat.

"Now, before I give you your timetable, there are a few things to discuss," Miss Green began as she rifled through a stack of papers on her desk.

"Right," she continued as my mother and I glanced at each other, "We are going to put you in the class for older students, namely eighteen plus, because of your excellent grades. We feel as though you would do well in those classes, rather than feel bored, or dissatisfied in your normal year."

My mother and I looked at each other, and I could see by the look in her eye she liked this idea.

"We'll do it," I smiled and Miss Green noddd her head in agreement.

"Excellent, let me give you your timetable." She handed me a sheet of paper with a chart on it. It read:

History 10:00 - 11:00, M. Joel

Maths 11:30 - 12:30, T. Preggin

Lunch 13:00 - 14:00

Geography 14:30 - 15:30, M. Matthews

English/Art/Drama 16:00 - 17:00, R.D. Junior

"Thanks," I say as I tuck the paper in my jeans' pocket, "See you tomorrow." Miss Green leads us to the door and waves us away.

"See you tomorrow, Ziva."