An Unexpected Twist

Chapter 1

"Chaney Keffer?" asked Mrs. Jones from the front of the room, looking at the attendance sheet.

"Here." I answered, hardly looking up from my doodling on the cover of my notebook. i was sitting in the back row, in the desk closest to the window. Unfortunately, for my first period class, i was lacking in friends to sit by. Not that i had many friends in general. It's not that i'm some gross, unhygienic girl who is socially awkward and has greasy hair. Actually, my hair is normal. Long, wavy, a light brown color, and not dripping with grease. I also shower everyday. I just don't have many friends because I'm shy and tend to keep to myself, except for the select few people i open up to.

This year will be different.

I told myself firmly. This was my senior year, and I wasn't going to be "some girl" anymore. It's not that i wanted to be popular- the whole dress slutty and and like a bimbo charade just didn't appeal to me- but i at least wanted people to know my name. i was sick of accidentally being called Katie, Shayne, or my personal favorite, Mary. Seriously, multiple people have called me Mary, and i have no idea why seeing as it is not even in the same realm as my name.

Anyway, it was the first day of my final year in high school, and it started with U.S. History. Although i loved history, i hated having to start the day with it. Like i care who the 23rd president was when it's still eight o'clock in the morning. But, Mrs. Jones, the teacher, was great from what I'd heard. She was around fifty years old, half dead as i like to call it, but she looked good for her age. Her hair was dyed a chocolate brown, and about chin length. She wore a good amount of make-up, but it was some outrageous cake face. She was also tall, and was currently wearing a grey pantsuit, which fit her slim body perfectly. For some reason, she looked strangely familiar.

As i continued to decorate the top of my notebook, i was vaguely aware that the teacher had stopped calling roll after my name. I looked up, wondering what the hold up was, because my name was definitely not last alphabetically. There should still be about half the class left to call. And when my eyes glanced up looking for the reason, they were met with about thirty other pairs of eyes. The entire class was looking at me, and i shrank back into my seat. What the crap? Had i missed something monumental? I slowly looked to my left, with a questioning look on my face. Then, i looked at Mrs. Jones, and cringed. She was glaring at me, like she was shooting daggers with her eyes.

"Chaney Keffer?" She repeated, her voice cold as ice. Her eyes were still locked with mine.

"Here?" I dragged the word out a bit, making it sound like a question. Which was reasonable, since i was as confused as ever. Apparently so were a lot of other students, because i could hear them all murmuring and feel their stares switching back and forth between me and Mrs. Jones.

"You don't remember me do you?" She asked, still not breaking our eye contact.

I searched my brain, trying to figure out what she meant. I was positive i had never seen this lady before today. Maybe the occasional glance here and there in the hall, but we had never actually interacted with each other. Nothing had happened to cause her to act like this towards me. I barely even knew the woman.

I shook my head slowly, whispering a barley audible, "Sorry."

"Well isn't that interesting, you don't remember the teacher you got fired?" Mrs. Jones said, slightly tilting her head to the side.

I stared for a second, wondering what she meant. Then it clicked. Oh, crap.

I felt all of the blood rush to my face as my mind flashed back to my kindergarten year. I had been raising my hand for at least five minutes, jumping up and down in my seat. I had been about to pee my pants when i first raised it, so it was a wonder how i managed to hold it for another five minutes. Unfortunately, Mrs. Jones was working with another kid. She had been working with the boy for about fifteen minutes because he was too dim to figure out the art of adding 2+2. We were working on a worksheet, that most of the class had finished about five minutes ago, except for the slower kids of course, a few of them were still finishing up. As soon as i had finished, my hand flew up, and i called Mrs. Jones name.