Breathless

Chapter Two

My art teacher was in a dreadful mood. Her usual happy persona was nowhere to be seen. Someone who had spent the weekend clubbing and went straight to work looked better than she did. Dark mascara streaks ran down her tear stain cheeks, like a watercolor painting gone wrong. Her hair that was usually pulled into a French twist resembled a tumbleweed forced into a top knot; strands stuck out everywhere. A rat's nest was nicer. Topping off the outfit she wore mismatched kitten heels. Principal Hornsby should have sent her home as soon as he set eyes on her this morning.

I tuned out her shrill gripping toward another student, and shifted around in my seat. I had lost all feeling in my butt within the first three minutes of class, my back was getting stiff. We had those round cold metal stools that could be found in any American art classroom. No matter how I sat it hurt.

The freshman sitting across from me snickered at her phone, she had hidden under the edge of the table. Colorful neon light reflected off the surface of her glasses. It looked like some sad disco ball. She was likely watching the embarrassing video of our teacher. It was spreading like a wildfire through the school district, possibly the country.

Earlier in the morning before classes even began our teacher was in the hallway crying over spilled coffee. It wasn't small sniffles either, full blown bobs that could be heard in the English hallway. Which was on the other side of the school. The students there to witness it immediately whipped out their fancy smartphones and recorded the whole fiasco. Minutes later everyone's phones were blowing up. Someone uploaded it to YouTube right away.

Teenagers were merciless. But whatever gets you internet famous right? There were remixes already out with one trending on YouTube, and from what I heard twitter too. The videos only made her mood worse. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a Buzzfeed article; one with a terrible coffee pun title. After all, our teacher was the hottest gossip of the day.

This class period she's yelled at a kid for choking on water and another for looking at her wrong. Then she snapped her pencil in half like it was nothing when another student asked a question. My theory as to why she was in such a bad mood was due to an on again off again relationship of hers. Although, I never could figure out why she went back to him after the first time. He sounded like some loser just used her. Love, I guess.

Dark lines curved around my paper creating an outline of my friend's face. It wasn't the assignment given to us. We were supposed to be doing some nature realism piece for the final this semester. My piece was still in the realism category, so I was technically doing half or it properly.

When I pressed down to shade the roots of her curly hair my pencil lead snapped. Rolling my eyes, I twisted the pencil aggressively into the old sharpener from my bag. A few twists later I pulled it out and blew on the shiny black tip. The pencil was pointy enough to rob a man.

My right leg began to bounce as I impatiently waited for the dismissal bell to ring. Next period was my off hour, and I wanted to spend it in the dance classroom. It was my nirvana place. Ms. Dianne, the dance/ theater teacher here, gave me a key to the spare rehearsal room that was used for musical auditions and practice. I could use it at any time as long as no one had reserved it.

Ms. Dianne was the teacher students wanted to be friends with. I, like many others, spent my free time with her. We've been close since day one. She had found it refreshing that someone could understand her yelling of dance terms. I became her assistant for the first period. It was a basic class. Mostly just freshmen trying to get out of the gym. But they had another thing coming. Ms. Dianne worked them like they were at military boot camp. My dance instructors weren't even that hard physically.

Because we are so close, I helped choreograph the last musical the school performed. We did two a year and they were the biggest productions any high school ever put on in the state. Oakwood high was essentially known for the performing arts program. Especially now that the football team was suspended for drug use, we were not winning anything any time soon. The last football game the school won was in 2013.