When India met Ivory

Chapter Three

"My name is Ivory. Yours?" I gawk at his hand for some time then I look back up at him. I don't return his handshake.

"India."

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Ivory stares at the side of my head for a moment incredulously and slowly closes his hand and retracts it. The rest of the class he doesn't make an attempt to speak to me. He doesn't even look at me.

The day seems to go by faster than usual. It is the middle of fourth block before I know it. Chemistry is probably my worst subject. I always seem to make a low C or high D in this God forsaken class. The teacher is teaching but no one is actually listening. I should be listening but I just can't focus on what he is saying at the moment. I can hear some of the girls next to me talking about some party that's happening tomorrow night.

"I think the new guy is going to be there." Genevieve says. Her voice is annoyingly high pitched and squeaky. She has red hair, freckles and a petite body. She's upper middle class and very smart. She is also very bitchy.

"God I hope so. He's so damn sexy." Analia, Genevieve's best friend adds on. Genevieve laughs and fans herself dramatically.

Suddenly the bell rings. I wait for everyone to gather their things and leave before I even try to start getting my things together. After everyone files out, I grab my things and head out of the class. But the sudden speaking of my teacher stops me.

"Ms. Katsaros, may I have a word with you for just a moment." He doesn't look up but he knows that I hear him. I wordlessly walk over to his desk. He pulls a paper from a stack and slides it in front of me. In red ink written across the top is a big, fat, F. And it is my paper.

"Would you like to explain what happened here?" Mr.Beaudet asks looking straight at me.

Mr.Beaudet is young. Well, young for a teacher at least. I would place him at about 35 at the most. He has jet black hair with some gray strands, but not too many and a five o'clock shadow, with toffee brown eyes, long thick lashes, and the body of a former underwear model, He is not hard on the eyes at all. He also still has a thick French accent. It is very beautiful to hear him speak his native language. I know this because sometimes he becomes so angry at the class that he begins to yell in French and he doesn't seem to realize he is doing it until he looks at the class's faces and we all have very puzzled looks plastered on them. Then he proceeds to reluctantly apologize and go back to the lesson.

"No, I don't really have time to explain. I have to catch my bus." I say glancing quickly at the wall clock just above the white board. 3:47 p.m. Shit. My bus leaves at 3:50.

"Well, I will need to call your mother and speak to her." He looks at me for a response.

"That won't be necessary, will it?" I ask, my throat becoming tight. I adjust my book bag straps on my shoulders slowly and inhale a deep breath.

"I'm afraid so. You have been falling behind in my class for weeks. I am becoming worried about your G.P.A." His brow furrows deeply, showing his worry.

"Yes sir, I understand. But I really need to go to get to my bus. I will come back first thing in the morning to finish talking to you." I jog out of the room and down the hall. I run into multiple people making them drop or spill things and in return receive names thrown at me that I would not even want to say in the privacy of my own room. I begin to sprint towards my bus and I make it just in time before the bus begins to pull off. I walk down the aisle and feel the strength of my legs begin to waver. I make it to my seat but the new boy- I mean Ivory is already in my seat and he gets up to let me in the inside. I murmur a 'thank you' to him and sit down, and he follows suit. As the bus takes off I lean my head against the window and I try to slow my breathing just a bit.