Breaking The Rules: Book 2

Chapter 35: One Day I'll Rule The World

𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟺𝚝𝚑
Griffin POV

Thwick. Thwick. Thwick.

Bouncing the eraser of my pencil on the desktop, I keep glancing between the clock above the door and the English teacher, Mrs. Osborn, slowly making her way down the rows of desks.

Osborne's hair is so grey that it's almost white and she must be a few years away from retiring, yet she looks like her forty-fifth birthday is next week. She's the only teacher in this school that I haven't pictured burying six feet deep in the middle of the woods.

Her constant kindness doesn't make up for the fact that I fucking hate english class, writing, grammar, and all of the shit that comes with it.

That doesn't mean I'm necessarily bad at this class. Doesn't mean I enjoy it, either.

The tiniest spark of anxiety sparks in my gut the closer that Osborn gets. She's holding a stack of graded papers in her arms, licking her thumb between each desk as she slowly ambles down each row, passing the appropriate reports back to the right kids. Occasionally she presses the paper facedown, or crouches down near a student to share a few words.

Exhaling, I recline in my seat and toss my pencil down on the desk when Osborne walks up to me.

"Griffin Miller! Yes, here we go." She hums and thumbs through the remaining papers in her hand. "How is your father doing? He stays so busy coaching those football and basketball teams in this semester that I never get the chance to see him, even with him being right down the hall."

"He's doing fine. He likes staying busy," I explain and resist the urge to crane my neck to get a peek at my paper. If I believed in superstition, I'd be crossing my fingers behind my back.

If I get an A on this paper, I'll keep my A in this class. Anything below that, and my grade will dip into a B. Winter break is coming up fast in a month and a half, so it would take extra work to keep my report card where it needs to be.

I've never been one to worry about my grades, but that was before I broke my knee. Back when I had a handful of colleges ready to pay for the entirety of my tuition if it meant I played on their field.

Osborn chuckles knowingly and nods as she pulls one stapled bunch of papers away from the rest. "He hasn't changed a bit in the ten years he's been here, then. Here we are."

The paper barely crosses into my line of sight and my attention hyperfixtates on the red ink in the upper corner. A+.

"Holy shit— Oh, fuck, sorry," I apologize quickly and scratch behind my ear. Lying my palm on the paper, I bring it closer in case I'm not seeing the grade correctly.

Osborn chuckles and moves past my language. Again, this is the reason why I appreciate her. She actually understands that her students are borderline legal adults.

"Indeed. I thought the same thing, if we're being truthful. But, Griffin, I have to tell you: this," she taps a finger on the paper, "blew me away. It's been awhile since I've seen a politically-based paper effectively explore both sides of an argument. The overlying point of arguing if there's truly justice for all in this country was handled so expertly, I had to check the web to make sure you didn't plagiarize this paper."