The Substitute (A Natasha Romanoff Story)

Chapter 2

The whole class stared at Miss Rushman dumbfoundedly for a few seconds before scrambling to their seats without another word. She looked somewhat amused with our behavior and sudden manners. This woman really did have a hold on us. I looked over at Wanda who was already staring in my direction.

"Oh my God" She mouthed and I pressed my lips together to suppress a smile.

"Which one of you is Naomi Emerson?" She asked, placing the files on a shelf and sitting on her desk in the front of the class.

"That would be me" I spoke up.

"I've heard a lot about you," She stated.

"What have you heard?" I questioned.

This could go either way. I had a reputation at this school, not exactly a good one either. To most people, I seemed like a quiet, reserved kid, but when I opened my mouth, I couldn't seem to stop talking. Not to mention that I lacked self control, so I ended up saying everything that occured in my mind without a second thought.

"The teachers here say you've written some of the most controversial essays they've ever seen. I have read your work and I must say I'm impressed." She responded.

Well that was unexpected.

"Thank you" I mumbled before she turned her attention back to the rest of the class.

When we got to choose topics for our essays, I always wrote about things that had meaning, things that I was passionate about, like gender inequality and discrimination. I used it as a way to send a message to the teachers, let them know about the importance of these issues, but they didn't want to hear it. One time I wrote about the objectification of women's bodies and got detention because it was considered "unethical" which was utterly ridiculous. Hearing that someone was genuinely impressed with my work boosted not just my confidence, but also my ego.

"Your grade head made me aware that you're doing Shakespeare, correct?" She asked and the class hummed.

"We started 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' with Mr Brendon a few weeks ago," One of the girls in my class spoke.

"Well, it's only fitting that we continue." Miss Rushman suggested, grabbing the book from the desk drawer.

We spent the rest of the lesson reading and analyzing the fictional book. Sometimes she would pick random students to read the lines of each character, correcting them when she needed to. I was thankful that she rarely chose me because I wasn't in the mood to embarrass myself even more.

Usually our English lessons were boring and dragged on for what felt like years. Somehow, this lesson went quicker than usual and I was almost disappointed when the bell rang for next period. Even my classmates were upset when we had to leave. Most of them tried to get her to notice them by complimenting either her hair or shoes as they left the classroom.

Being the attention whore I was, I craved validation from others. I was confident, strategic and I knew what I wanted. And there was nothing I wanted more than her eyes on me. I slowly packed my bag, waiting patiently for everyone to leave the class before I made my move.

"Miss Rushman?" I called, after making sure everyone had left.

"Yes?" She responded, looking up from her cellphone and at me with emerald green eyes.

"Regarding the essays you've read, do you have any advice for me? Or any tips?" I asked simply.

"To be honest, I don't think there's any I can give. Your writing is quite flawless and you seem to actually enjoy it. I presume that you have a passion for English literature." The redhead replied in her husky voice.