Mr. Teacher

Who was he?

It's that time of the year again.

I put on a pair of white jeans, maroon camisole and my maroon Nike Roshes. I applied my makeup and headed downstairs for breakfast. Catríona made me some eggs and toast, served with orange juice.
Once finished, I put my plate in the big dishwasher in the room beside the kitchen.
I waved goodbye to Catríona and grabbed my purse.
I glanced at myself one last time, then got in my car and left for school.

I pulled up into one of the parking spaces available behind the school and waited for my friends.
Leigh pulled up in her car beside me with Max, then Sean came not long after. The four of us walked to home room together for a year assembly.

100 Seniors gather round our new Head of year and principal. We get a talk on how important of a year 12th grade is and how we should be studying. Most of it goes in one ear and out of the other as I stare out the window.

Ms. Puddock, my head of year, hands me an envelope with 'Daya Cruise' wrote on it. Why was my name always misspelled? I grab a pen and correct the mistake so that it didn't annoy me for the rest of the day.

I opened the envelope's contents to find information on colleges along with my timetable for this years lessons and a permission slip to a college weekend, next month.

I pulled out the timetable and compared to my friends. I had drama, art and biology with Max, french and math with Leigh and all the rest of my subjects with Sean.

Ms. Puddock had wasted a lot of time with a presentation she downloaded from the Internet and soon it was 13:00. I heard the familiar ring of a bell which meant it was time for an hour and a half of lunch, my favourite subject.

My friends and I headed to the infamous cafeteria. I bought a tuna salad with apple juice and grapes and looked for the table I had sat at since the beginning of high school.

And there it was, in the middle of the cafeteria. My foursome of friends sat at the blue table, amongst 3 football players, 2 cheerleaders and a rich kid. All of us together formed 'The Cool Kids'.

We babbled, talked about our summers, compared classes and gossiped. Kaitlynn, one of the cheerleaders, informed us on all of the scandals whilst Jackson, a football player, threw coleslaw at one of my drama friends.
I told him that wasn't cool and apologised to my friend for his actions. Sometimes he can be a jerk, all the time he can be a jerk.

The second bell rang, meaning classes. I sighed and headed to my new locker.

Locker number 69.
A second sigh left my lips as I knew immature students would be pesking me about my locker number for the next year. Great.

I headed to English, my favourite subject. I liked to read and write. During the summer, I wrote a collection of short stories on my laptop and I'm quite proud. It's a way to let my imagination run wild. Something I cannot physically do, I'm tied down to the Crùz family.

I walk into the classroom to see students throwing paper aeroplanes, practicing dance moves and some were even singing. There was no seats left, apart from one at the very front. I didn't mind much though, English being my best subject and all.

Mr. Adams wasn't at his desk yet, probably still hooking up with our receptionist. I took out my phone and texted Sean, who was on the other side of the classroom but we were both too lazy to get up and talk to each other in person.

A few minutes past.
My principle walked into the classroom with a young enough man. He looked about 25. He was wearing a black suit and blue tie, dark hair and dark eyes. He was actually pretty good looking. He looked at me and I felt my cheeks burning.

Who was he?