Behind Closed Hearts

Chapter 23

The bell rang overhead and James looked blearily up from his text book. He had fallen asleep in his hand, effectively hiding it from the teacher. But as he began to shuffle his books into his bag, he regretted his nap. It had made him even more tired.

Around him, the other students stood quickly and escaped to their fourth period classes. James moved a little quicker. This was his least favorite class, history.

"James," the teacher called out.

James looked up, frowning. Sadly, he did not remember the man's name. He hadn't paid attention to anything in the class and the teacher was a rather unremarkable man. "Yeah?" James said, shoving his notebook into his bag haphazardly.

The man eyed all of the students as they left, waiting until they were completely alone. "I wanted to talk to you about your grades."

James was in the process in zipping up his bag and he froze. "My grades?" Back in middle school he had been a top student, almost number one in their class. High school hadn't been any different until now. He wondered what place he held now.

"Yes," he replied. "Why don't you come up and sit near my desk?" The teacher crooked his head.

Leaving his bag behind, he wove his way up the empty rows to the front of the room. When he reached the teacher's desk James glanced down, looking for a name plate. He didn't see one.

Instead, he glanced up at his teacher and tried to remember the name on his schedule, but for the life of him, he couldn't.

"Please. Have a seat," the man said, gesturing to a desk in the front row.

James complied immediately, sitting in the cold metal seat, and stared up at him. For the first time, James actually looked at his teacher. The man was mid-aged with the barest of wrinkles and he wore his black hair stylishly slicked back. He wore an smile as he regarded James, rounding the desk to lean against it.

"What's this about?" James questioned. He didn't have all day.

"I think you should know what this about Mr. Wilson."

James shrugged and averted his eyes. He didn't know what the guy was trying to get at.

The teacher leaned in, narrowing his eyes. "Your homework? You haven't been turning it in?"

His eyes snapped to his teacher in an instant at that remark. "What homework?"

The teacher sighed heavily. "You need to start turning in your homework from here on out if you want to pass this class," he continued. "I know that you had excellent grades in your last school, but this will not keep you afloat if you continue like this. Have you even started studying for the test tomorrow?"

James suddenly felt very heavy, like his insides were sinking. He smiled sheepishly. "What is it on?"

"You need to start working, James," the teacher said kindly. He turned to his desk and grabbed a sheet of paper from a stack and passed it to him. "Here is the study guide. I suggest that you take a long look at it tonight, or I may have to call your parents."

"They're not my parents," James murmured.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, sir. May I go now?" He asked, standing.

"Let me write you a pass."

--

James was heading to lunch after fourth period holding that study guide in his tight grip. He had scanned the topics and vocab words and they were... He sighed. At least he'd studied ancient Egypt before. Maybe that prior knowledge would help him skate by.