Pencil, Paper, and Passion.

Chapter Two: Staring Contest.

 "Oh.  My.  Gawd!  You guys are never going to believe it!"

    Brandt and I cringed at the shrill voice of Kayla Douglas.  He rolled his eyes, then said in a high falsetto, "Look, guys!  New boobs!"

    I shushed him but couldn't quite contain a quick laugh.  "You're horrible, Brandt.  What if her mom has cancer or something?"

    "Plastic Barbies can't get cancer, Eliza.  Duh."

    "Excuse me?"  Kayla's voice intruded.  From right beside my desk.  I looked sideways and up.  She was standing with her hands on her hips, which meant she knew she was being insulted, she just couldn't quite figure out how.

    I sighed.  Brandt grinned.  "Yes, Kayla?"

    "Did you just call me a plastic Barbie?"
   
    "No," He said slowly. 

    "Then who were you calling a Barbie, huh?"  Kayla's voice was shrill and confused.  The poor girl, I thought.

    Brandt leaned back lazily in his chair as our homeroom teacher looked over at us.  She raised an eyebrow in warning, then went back to her book.

    I jumped in before Brandt could say anything.  I looked at Kayla and said sweetly, "You know, it isn't polite to eavesdrop on other people's conversations, Kayla.  But we'll forgive you, this time.  Won't we, Brandt?"

    "Sure,"  He said, catching on.  "Just don't let it happen again, huh, Kayla?"

    She appeared puzzled for a few seconds before she beamed a smile at us.  "Thanks!  Oh, and, uh, yeah.  It won't happen again.  Promise!"

    Brandt and I watched her flounce back to her group of friends before grinning at each other and high-fiving.  I chuckled.  "I shouldn't have done that.  It was mean."

    Brandt snorted.  "That witch has been torturing people since grade school.  Besides, it's not like she even realizes you were being mean."

    "True."  I shrugged.  "Too bad Charles wasn't here to see it."

    "It would have made her day."  Brandt agreed.
   
    The bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom.  I got up and groaned.  "Why do we have to have Chemistry II, first period?  It's just not fair!"

    Brandt got up and lead the way out of homeroom.  "I don't know.  But, hey.  We've got a new Chemistry teacher."

    "So?  I hate new teachers."  I complained.  I barely noticed the halls and the people milling about us.  I was used to them.  "They don't do *anything* like the old teacher and it's confusing!"
   
    "I know.  But, Eliza dear, we don't have a choice."

    "That doesn't mean I have to like it."  I let my lower lip slip into a pout as we entered the Chemistry room.  We immediately went to our regular seats in the back, right-hand corner of the classroom, near the windows.

    "Guess not," Brandt said.  "But you do have to be nice about it."

    "Says who?"

    "Says me...  And the principal."  He grinned, then continued in a sing-song voice.  "Be nice or you'll get in trouble!"

    I lifted an eyebrow at him.  "Really, Brandt, that's so immature.  Act your age."

    "Says the girl who was pouting five seconds ago."

    "Alright, everybody, pick a seat and sit!"  A smooth voice said from the front of the classroom.  I looked away from Brandt then simply stared.  This couldn't be our teacher, I thought dazedly.  He was tall, with dark brown hair and violet eyes.  He was also very young and oh, so handsome.  He couldn't be more than twenty-four, I guessed.

    He raised his hand to get every ones attention.  "Alright, now, we're going to get to know each other today.  When I point to you, stand up, say your name, age, something about yourself and your favorite class of all your school years.  Now, before we start.  I'd just like to inform you that this is my first year teaching.  Please, go easy on me."  That said, he pointed to himself and grinned.  " My name is Mr. Gallagher.  I'm twenty-three, my favorite food is Hamburger Helper Beef Stroganoff, and my favorite class was P.E."

    Mr. Gallagher went down the rows, sometimes pausing to ask about something that had interested him, until he reached Brandt.  Brandt stood up.  "My name is Brandt Cole.  I'm eighteen, my best friend, Elizabeth, is a twit, and my favorite class is Homeroom."

    "Well, then."  Mr. Gallagher said, before pointing to me.  I shot a look at Brandt, who was smiling slyly at me, then stood up.  "My name is Elizabeth Sinclair.  I'm eighteen, people call me Eliza, and my favorite class is photography."

    I started to sit back down but Mr. Gallagher shook his head and smiled at me.  "Oh, no, that won't do at all.  You have to come up with something more interesting than 'people call me Eliza.'"

    I sat, raised my chin, and looked him straight in the eyes, stating clearly.  "I hate unwanted attention."

    His eyebrows shot up.  "Well, then, we'll leave it at that."

    "Thank you."  I said, nodding coolly.                                                                

    We stared at each other, a silent battle of wills.  I smirked when his gaze wavered to the other students.  Mr. Gallagher opened his mouth to say something just as the bell rang, cutting him off.  I stood, and ignoring Brandt, left the room. 

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    The rest of the day passed without incident, and with Brandt begging me to forgive him.  I continued to ignore him, deciding I wouldn't forgive him until Charlotte had returned to school.  It would annoy him a great deal, not knowing how long I was going to give him the cold shoulder.  I smiled to myself as I made the drive back home.  My first day of senior year had been a success.

     Mr. Gallagher's face suddenly flashed into my mind and I frowned.  I still wasn't quite sure why we'd had our little staring contest.  Sure, I'd been rude, but so had he.  He should have just accepted my comment about my name as 'something interesting.'  I nodded to myself.  Yes, I thought, he was in the wrong.  My rudeness had been justified.  His had merely been a new teacher testing his skills in teacherly torture.  I laughed, happy again.