My Teacher and I

Chapter One

*Beep Beep*

I awoke to the sound of my alarm, its piercing ring abruptly ending my peaceful sleep. As I faced the reality of the day ahead, I was further greeted by the distressed cries of my younger brother, likely startled by a nightmare.

"ugh", I say stretching out and extending my bones.

I step out of bed and dress in my school uniform: a white shirt bearing the school's logo, followed by a dark blue blazer and matching trousers. After unevenly adjusting my tie, I slip on my black and white Converse shoes, grab my sketchbook and backpack, and leave my room, closing the door behind me. As I pass my younger brother's room, I smile at him while he gets ready for school. We attend the same high school, though I'm in grade 10 and he's in grade 7. Ah, I forgot to introduce myself—my name is Atticus Affleck, 16 years old. Yes, that's my real last name, but no, I'm not related to Ben Affleck. One thing I take pride in is that I'm openly gay, and everyone knows it. No one bothers me much, probably because I have a reputation for having anger management issues, something I developed as a child due to my parents' frequent arguments. Fortunately, they resolved their differences and are now happily married.

Before I realize it, my brother has left, likely to walk to school with his friends. As for me, I have the convenience of driving, thanks to my good grades last year—a rare achievement, considering the amount of studying I had to do. As a reward, my parents bought me a car, and I got my license soon after. By the time I arrive at school, I'm already 20 minutes late. No big deal though; it's only first period with Ms. Davies, and she's pretty laid-back. I make my way through the empty hallway, enter the classroom quietly, and sit down next to my best friend, Lilliarna, who, like me, is part of the LGBTQ+ community—she's a lesbian.

A figure with heavy footsteps approaches my desk. It's not Ms. Davies, but a tall, well-built man who places his hands firmly on the desk in front of me.

"Hello, rude boy. Care to explain why you feel entitled to stroll into my class 20 minutes late without acknowledging me, your teacher?" he asks, his deep voice commanding attention.

*God, kill me now, * I think to myself.

"Sorry, I overslept. I thought Ms. Davies was still teaching this class, but clearly, she isn't since you're here, *sir, *" I reply, emphasizing the "sir" with deliberate thickness.

"You'll be staying 20 minutes after class," he responds sternly.

"Fine by me. But, uh, teach, what's your name?" I ask, batting my eyes.

"I'm Mr. Harris, your new Greek teacher," he states before walking away.

As Mr. Harris returns to his lesson, I zone out, my mind wandering as I begin sketching his likeness in my notebook. Time passes quickly, and before I know it, the bell rings. I stay seated, closing my sketchbook, waiting until the classroom empties and the door shuts behind the last student. Suddenly, I'm brought back to the present.

"Mr. Atticus Affleck," Mr. Harris says, his voice serious. "Do you think the way you entered my classroom was appropriate?"

"I don't know—you tell me," I reply, a hint of sass in my tone.

"Listen here, you little brat," he says, his patience thinning. "If you pull that stunt again, there will be serious consequences."

"Sure, whatever you say. Now, can I go? I have a free period, and another teacher is expecting me," I say, standing up and sliding my sketchbook into my bag before leaving Mr. Harris behind.

I leave the classroom, allowing Mr. Harris to linger in his thoughts, and head to the art room. There, I find Mr. Carson, focused on his work, drawing on an art pedestal. He barely glances up when he hears me enter.

"Morning, Atticus," he says, before returning to his sketching.

I grab a blank canvas, place it on an empty pedestal, and pull out my sketching pencils. I begin sketching Mr. Harris—my new Greek teacher—who, I must admit, is incredibly sculpted and toned. Immersed in the process, I lose track of everything around me, my mind fully absorbed in the drawing. I don't even hear anyone calling my name until I feel a tap on my shoulder. It's Lilliarna.

"Atticus, didn't you hear me calling you?" she asks.

"No, sorry Lil, I didn't. Did you need anything?" I reply.

"It's lunchtime, and I wanted to hang out with you in here and start painting," she says, grabbing her own canvas and placing it on the pedestal next to mine. She begins sketching her design while I return to my drawing.

I finish my sketch and glance over, realizing that Lilliarna is no longer beside me. Deciding I could use a smoke, I pack up my supplies, say a quick goodbye to Mr. Carson, and head to my usual spot behind the school. Once there, I pull a pack of cigarettes from my bag, lighting one up. I manage to take a few puffs, the smoke curling lazily into the air, before I'm interrupted by someone stepping in front of me, blocking the light.