Super Girl ✩ {being edited}

Chapter One

"One black coffee with cream for ... Bev?"

I look up from my phone, drop it swiftly into the pocket of my denim jacket, then make my way over to the counter, accepting my paper cup. I shove it into the cardboard sleeve to not burn my hand, then smile at the Starbucks barista before turning around, approaching the door and pushing it open to exit by simply leaning against it. The two girls entering beside me graze me with a smile for my chivalry as I hold it open for them with one hand as soon as I'm outside and I let go once they're inside, overhearing bits and pieces of their conversation about flower arrangements.

I join the crowd of the pavement, allow the rush of it to suck me in, attempt to adapt to the speed of it. Instantly, I regret wearing ballerina flats, spotting the rain clouds hanging low above the skyscrapers, almost touching the rooftops, threatening a rather unpleasant walk home. But at least the disadvantage of a large bag allows extra storage and I mentally salute this morning's me for packing Daley's canary yellow umbrella.

Every other step I take walking down the street, I find someone making eye contact with me, it's not like I haven't gotten used to the occasional stare, but I do notice sometimes. It's the fact that some people's stare is so penetrative, a lot of them don't even realise they're staring, and some seem to have no idea that their sunglasses are so cheap that I can see right through the tint. Not that you need sunglasses at this time of year, we've seen the sun like once, twice if you squint and pretend one cloud is lighter than the other.

Two blocks away from school, I toss my coffee cup into the trash and speed up after having taken the risk of checking my watch. I'm late and I'm not supposed to be late, not on my first day of teaching my own class for the very first time. I've been watching classes, have practiced teaching for such a long time, have studied so much, and today, the new school year starts and I actually get some responsibility, over a group of pubescent teenagers, but I couldn't be more excited.

I decided not to dress up because even though they've probably seen me around, I know exactly what kind of teacher I'd like to be and what kind of impression I want to make. Because even though a lot of teachers are under the impression that they can relate to kids, no matter how long it has been since they actually were one, I feel like I remember how much being 14 sucked, and I have no doubt that that is going to primarily help me do a good job. And it's now that I finally feel like a real teacher.

I enter the building through the spinning door and run my fingers through my hair, eyeing my own reflection in the glass momentarily before approaching the stairs that lead up to the teacher's lounge and crossing paths with the school's beau that I'm sure is the subject of many teacher/student fantasies which I personally, apart from his conventional dark curly hair and square-framed glasses that make him look much more nerdy than he is, cannot relate, as on my first day, he revealed to me immediately what kind of person he is: a huge dick. And the reason for that is presumably that he isn't the proud owner of one.

He shoots be a glare of pure disgust, turns away only when he realises my head will remain held up high, and I attempt to maintain my best white girl arrogance I can muster. After all, my name is Beverly. But we don't need to delve into that, nobody needs to know about that, and I can only accept it when I can come to peace with my inner white girl. Then, it's actually perfectly fitting. And when somebody who eyed me with disgust on my very first day here, verbalized all the things that people usually have the decency to not disclose until I've left the room, to my face even though he has not once spoken to me, I feel like the arrogant white girl that my parents think they were naming while watching some MTV reality show, is allowed to come out.

I push open the door to the teacher's lounge, I'm greeted my Mrs. Fisher, a beautiful 60-year-old woman who looks like she just celebrated her 40th birthday instead. She gives me a smile, makes me laugh when she salutes at me and I give a wave before making my way over to the coffee machine. Since I'm already late, there's barely anybody around, because those who don't have to be there for first period, are most likely still in bed or at least in their comfortable home, having breakfast.

Thinking of breakfast, I realise that's something I have not yet had today and as soon as I notice, my stomach grumbles demandingly right on queue. With a heavy sigh, I let my shoulders slump and decide that food has to wait until my lunch break, although I already highly doubt that I'll be able to eat much with all the organisation I have to sort out for all those students that are new to me.

The walls in the classroom are painted in all kinds of colours, the windows are wide open when I enter. The looks on the kids' face propose the innocence of a group of people that find it perfectly normal to stay in their seats while all windows are wide open in a room that has become freezing cold. I can't help a roll of my eyes, but I hurry to put my bag down on the desk before quickly closing all the windows, only leaving one ajar at the front before I turn and address the class with a smile.

"Morning, guys." I grab a piece of chalk, then start writing my name on the board as I speak, trying my hardest to not scratch too hard. "For all of you that haven't seen me around yet, my name is Miss Nicholls...-"

From behind me, I hear someone snapping their fingers. Spinning around, I raise my eyebrows and put the chalk down, the hem of my dress flying slightly. "Yes?" I look back at a girl with brown hair that has raised her hand, notice straight away that the make-up she has chosen is several shades to dark for her skin tone. "What's your name?"

"Perri" she states proudly.

"What's your question, Perri?"

"Are you not married, Miss?"

I raise one eyebrow at her, licking my lips slowly. "No..." I shake my head slowly. "Like you said, Perri, it's ... Miss."

She nods back at me, gives me a smile that I can't interpret as anything but arrogant and I can already see that girl judging me, and while it is amusing, I decide to not say any more. University may not have prepared me for this, but I've certainly prepared myself.

"What are your subjects?" A boy in the back asks.

"English and History." I watch a lot of faces light up with excitement, but just as many drop with disappointment. "I'm going to hand out your timetables in a second" I explain. "But first off, I'm just wondering what's up with me entering Siberian temperatures just there?"

"Tom farted!" Someone blurts out.

I instantly regret my attempt, rolling my eyes and deciding to move on. "I hope we all get along" I state, ignoring another shout. "But in order for that to work, I just want want to set a few basic rules. As you can imagine, I don't appreciate any pranks played on me and I really think we can make the most progress when it's quiet. Of course I don't mind the occasional question or exchange with your neighbor, as long as you listen and participate in class. You can drink if you want, you don't have to ask to go to the toilet, but I will most likely notice if you don't return after five minutes if you've randomly taken off. But most importantly, I want you to know that if there's a problem, any problem of any nature, you can always come to talk to me after class, and I'm happy to help."It warms my heart when I see a few of the kids smiling at my words, just slightly, but it's endlessly reassuring to see that the way I want to conduct myself is already coming across to at least some of my students. With a smile, I clap my hands together. "Right. Timetables. You've got a lot more work this year, a lot of new teachers. If you've got any questions, or if you think there's been some mistake, please don't be afraid to come and ask me..."