Love Me Anyway (A student-teacher relationship)

Chapter Five

These chapter will always be in Cynthia's POV, unless otherwise stated.

Fifth chapter people! I'm on a role! ;D

Picture of Amanda (Definitely cut off a few years, and put a bitchy look on her face)

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I was staring at him, probably succeeding in looking like an idiot.

“What?” I asked stupidly. He smirked, chuckling slightly, but looking generally uncomfortable.

“That’s my chair. Please get out of it and take a seat at a desk Miss…”

“Michaels,” I said quietly, rigidly standing from the chair and walking to a table in the back corner. I sunk into the seat still staring at Josh – or would it be Mr. Fletcher? He was the teacher?

The rest of the class filtered into the room, Nicole making her appearance and taking the seat I had saved for her. She didn’t give me a word of greeting as she ogled Jo – Mr. Fletcher.

“Is that the teacher?” she finally asked, pointing a sly finger under the table. I nodded wordlessly, disbelieving myself.

“Okay everybody,” Mr. Fletcher said, raising his voice to be heard above the class. “I’m already annoyed enough as it is, so shut up.” Hush fell over the class immediately, students shocked at having been told so bluntly to  ‘shut up.’

“Is a teacher even allowed to do that?” some kid in front of me muttered.

“No,” Mr. Fletcher replied casually. “So, class,” he paused, looking bored. “Go crazy.”

We remained silent, staring at him expectantly. He fidgeted slightly.

“Well…” he trailed off, “… Do something…”

One girl thrust her hand into the air.

“Yes, um, girl,” he said, waving a hand at her. I snorted a laugh, at how unprofessional he was.

“Are you going to take role?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah!” he said, scrambling on his desk, thoroughly messing up its creepy orderly-ness, and coming up with a clipboard. “Wrong class,” he muttered, flipping through pages, “Wrong class…Ah! Here it is!”

I bounced my forehead on the desk trying to hold back my laughter and failing miserably. He raised and eyebrow at me. “Something funny Miss Michaels?”

“No Sir!” I gasp, trying to sit up straight and wiping a little water from my eyes. He crinkled up his nose, managing to look even hotter than before.

“Ew. Don’t call me that.” His expression sent me into another whole role of laughter.

The person in the seat in front of me turned to reveal the skanky face of Bitch, my bestest friend in the whole world. Sense the sarcasm?  Bitch – her real names started with an E or something – was the classic kind of slut. Skirts so short they barely existed, tight tops that had their boobs trying to run away, you know, the works. What annoyed me most was, if she had to be a whore, couldn’t she have at least been original about it?

“Are you okay Freak?” she asked snidely, using her own endearing nickname for me.

I held up a thumb, gasping and trying to get my words out. “Peachy,” I managed with a grin. “Now… Leave me – leave me be Bitch. You’re… polluting my space.” She sneered at me, turning her nose up and pivoting away. Facing the front with her spine strictly straight, she deliberately leaned to the side to loudly whisper in her friends ear.