Judd Apa-took My Breath Away

My New Chemistry Teacher Is So Hot

I woke up, like every day, late. Rushing to my closet I tore my clothes off of the hangers haphazardly, whizzing through like a tornado. 

"Shit, shit, shit," I mumble under my breath. And at that moment it struck me. It was a Saturday. 

My evil little brother pushes his way into my room, "Y/N, what are you doing you fat forehead?" 

I roll my amber-colored eyes, blowing my auburn hair from my face. He's such a little shit. Always insulting me in the most bizarre ways. I can't wait to graduate and go to Harvard. 

"Chase, what did I tell you about knocking?" I sternly reply. 

"I already told you, I go by Lil Huddy now," he renegades out of my room. 

Returning to my messy floor I pick through my recently thrifted clothes. Baggy shirts and mom jeans, no wonder no one likes me. I'm too quirky for them. I pick up my polaroid camera that's right next to my dad's old record player, whatever that is, and stare at it sentimentally. 

The last picture I took was of my dad, well, I don't even know if I can call him that, my mom just refers to him as John. He left on tour 10 years ago and hasn't been back since. I think he's in a band but I can't be sure, mom never talks about him. I do know that she thinks he's gay, but I never liked rumors. 

Just then I hear an obnoxious car horn blast outside my bedroom window. Ugh, it's Uncle Nick again. He took over the fatherly duties when my dad left, but I don't know. His lips always threw me off. 

"Y/N!! Come eat your breakfast, Uncle Nick is taking us to the waterpark today!" Mom shouts from downstairs. 

I roll my eyes and slink into my cheetah print bikini, throwing a Rolling Stones t-shirt dress over top, whoever that is. Rushing down the stairs I miss a step, tumbling down. God, I'm such a klutz. No boys will ever love me. 

On the table is a spread of waffles and cereal. 

"Mom, I told you I was going keto, I can't eat any of this!" 

Mom just rolls her eyes and sets down my mug of melted butter. Her crazy badonkadonk ass knocks over the Keurig coffee maker. Her animated-like eyes fill with sadness. I can tell she misses John, but as she said, he's probably gay. 

I take out my metal straw and stick it in the butter mug, slurping down the liquid gold. I can feel myself getting lighter with each pull. The only thing I love more than butter is my extra-strength deodorant because Keto has made me smell so bad. Luckily no boys will get within 50 feet of me, because I'm so ugly. 

Chase hops down the stairs, his wallet chain clinking. He flops his hair out of his eyes and hits the Woah. Whatever that is. 

"Drinking butter again, Boomer?" he leans back into his high chair.

I ignore him, gulping down the last of my butter. He attacks his waffles in a savage-like manner. Mom stares at him in disgust. 

"Chase, mind your manners, you're a big boy now, remember?" 

He fills with rage, I can practically see the devil horns poking out. 

"Oh my god Karen, I told you to call me Lil Huddy!" he plops out of his high chair and attempts to flip the table, but his noodly arms shake against the weight. 

"How many times have I told you not to call me Karen, my name is Vanessa, Vanessa Hudson-Mulaney!" 

In the heat of the moment, I knock over my mug, shattering it against the tile floor. Mom sets her sights on me. This outta be good. 

"Y/N!! That was my favorite mug. God, you're such an awful daughter. I wish you were never born!" Her luscious lips bark at me, her face turning a fiery shade of crimson. 

Tears well in my eyes, my cheeks flushing. How could she say that? How could she?  I stand up, smoothing out my t-shirt dress. I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. My breath smells like melted butter and anchovies. 

"I need to go brush my teeth." 

I storm up the stairs, but miss another step, knocking my head on the wall and passing out. I fall into a lucid state of dreaming. There I am reunited with John, he decides to take me on tour with him and I travel the world with his band or whatever. I never have to see my mom again. Chase is dead. The world is in order. 

When I come to its Monday morning. A cold ice pack drapes over my forehead. My mom sits on the edge of my bed, crying. She looks over at me and gasps. 

"Y/N! Oh thank god you're okay!" she moves to hug me but I dodge her. 

I look down and see that I'm still in my t-shirt dress. I guess I can wear this to school. Standing up I avoid eye contact with my mom, anger bubbling up inside of me. I pick up my knock off Fjällräven Kånken sitting beside the ukulele I don't know how to play. Slicking my hair back with a scrunchie I storm downstairs, this time, I don't miss a step. 

With my tattered and drawn on Converse in hand, I race to the bus stop. The whole ride I feel my phone buzzing in my backpack. It's probably mom, and I don't want to talk to her. I close my eyes and try to get back to my dream world. Dead Chase, John, traveling the world. A pang in my heart shocks me back to the real world. Why am I even thinking about John? He left me. He doesn't want me. 

The bus slows down and I carefully rush into school. I head to my first-period class, Chemistry with Mr. Winkle, he's my favorite teacher. All he does is play opera and eat cheese during class. Sitting down in my seat, the front row, of course, I pull out my phone. 70 missed calls from mom. Classic. 

Just as the bell rings for class to begin, a shiver runs down my spine. I can feel a beam of light illuminating the room. Looking up I see a man I can only compare to God. 

Eyes that have no identifiable color peer at me, I feel like he's looking into my soul. His scraggly beard and graying hair shine under the fluorescent lights. A smile inches its way across his face. He turns away from me and sets his cheetah print briefcase on the desk, a bottle of kombucha in hand. 

"Good morning class, I'm Mr. Apatow, I'll be filling in for Mr. Winkle for a while, he had an unfortunate cheese accident." His smile sparkles like a disco ball. 

I can't hear a single word he says. 

My new chemistry teacher is so hot.