Lesson by Her [Book 1]

Chapter 9

Quinn Valentine had a free period that day, so She used the time to grade the papers of the test she'd had her seniors turn in earlier that morning. Grading papers was easily her least favorite aspect of teaching.

She found it to be repetitive. Usually an entire class would be at a similar point in terms of a grade curve. As the new teacher among the faculty at West High, she'd been assigned one of the lower set senior mathematics classes.

She predicted them all to be operating at a C grade average, possibly lower, and as she worked her way through the pile of test papers, she seemed to be correct.

That was until she came upon a paper that stopped her in her tracks. She was shocked to see that the calculations for each problem had been done correctly; however, in the end, each problem had the right answer, but it had been rubbed out and replaced with an answer that was either a few too high or too low.

Valentine looked through the calculations, bemused why a student would be so competent, displaying such an affinity for algebra, and then change their answers at the end to make them wrong.

The owner of the paper appeared to be deliberately failing. Valentine checked the name at the top of the paper. Neat, cursive handwriting, a pleasant change from the usual scrawl her students used, graced the top.

Student's handwriting was growing increasingly poor as they became ever dependent on technology. Dusty-Rose Black The paper belonged to head cheerleader Dusty, only further piquing Valentine's interest. She knew that she needed to speak with her to discuss her paper further. 

****

"So I'm pretty sure that the party will be at Justin's house." Cora gave her friend an update over lunch. The girls sat inside the busy school cafeteria. A few other members of the cheerleading squad joined Dusty and Cora, and the school's football team had congregated at the end of the table.

The table located directly in the center of the cafeteria, at the heart of the action, was reserved exclusively for the high school elite. Dusty had heard other students talk about how they wished that they could sit there. As much as she enjoyed being there, she didn't understand their aspirations.

She'd much rather sit with more interesting students who'd discuss some great music they'd heard, a movie they just loved, or a book they just couldn't put down. Instead, Dusty had to spend her lunchtime discussing the issues that afflicted the popular, like which party to go to and which outfit to wear.

"Justin's house is huge," Cora added. "His dad's a lawyer or something."

"Impressive," Dusty mumbled, not really paying attention. She absently played with the salad on her plate, her stomach rumbling angrily, wishing she'd been brave enough to order something more substantial, like a cheeseburger, but the last time she'd done that the team had almost blackballed her.

"A burger." Farah had marched up to her in the hallway in outrage.

"Huh?"

"You ordered a burger?" Farah gasped in shock. "Are you mad? You're head cheerleader. Eat what crap you want at home, but here you set an example."

"With what I eat?" Dusty was stunned.

"Your entire life is now up for scrutiny. You represent the ideal, the life others wish to lead. This includes everything from what you wear to what you eat. So from now on you eat what the rest of us do."

"Which is what?"

"Salad with mineral water or juice. Followed by an apple. Nothing else can pass your lips while you're at school."

"That seems...strict." Dusty frowned.

"Head cheerleader is hard work. Now if you want to go back to eating burgers, I'd happily step up to the role," Farah offered, smirking.

"No, it's fine. I like salad." Dusty forced a fake smile and walked off, wondering how she'd survive eating so little during the long school day. Dusty's solution to the strict diet had been to stash food into her backpack and secretly eat it on the way to and from school.

She'd always enjoyed her food, ever since she was a little girl. Her father used to take the family to fancy restaurants, insisting that he wanted his children to understand and appreciate fine cuisine. Dusty couldn't remember the last time she'd had a meal that hadn't previously been frozen.

"What will you wear to the party?" Taylor J asked Cora, sipping her mineral water.

"I don't know." Cora pondered the question thoroughly, as if asked how she thought it was best to resolve the conflict within North Korea.

"I might have to go shopping," she concluded.

"Ooh, can I come?" Taylor almost squealed in delight.

"Yeah, of course. You in, Dusty?"

"Huh?" Dusty was struggling to keep up with the conversation.

"Shopping, tomorrow, for Justin's party. You in?" The last time Dusty had gone shopping with some of her fellow cheerleaders had been a disaster. They all frequented designer boutique stores, and buckling beneath pressure, she'd purchased a dress that cost $300.00.

A dress that she'd returned the following day. Luckily, the shop assistant took pity on her and refunded the credit card Dusty used only in emergencies.

"I can't go shopping." Dusty shook her head. "I've got to look after my brother." For once, her excuse was truthful.

"That sucks." Cora sighed. "But you'll be at the party, right?"

"Sure." Dusty smiled sweetly, already knowing that she had no intention of going to the party.

"Great, I know Justin wants you to be there." Cora giggled.

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