The Teacher and the Student

Mr. John Collins

"What's Mr. Collins like, as a teacher? Does he assign a lot of work? Are his quizzes bad?" A freshman asks me questions as I escort her to her first class of the day. 

"When I had him in my sophomore year, he was new. He didn't assign much work or have bad quizzes. The problem with his class was that he graded us too easily. He was a very good teacher, though. Just be very specific when you ask questions. He tends to be ambiguous if you don't ask him a direct question," I respond. I look at the room numbers in the English and Language Arts wing, actively searching for Room 247.

"You're president of the Creative Writing Club, right?" She asks me.

"Yes, I am. I've been in it since freshman year, and I just got the leadership role last year. I'm also the senior editor of the Journalism Club." I count the room numbers and successfully spot Room 247. I roll my uniform skirt up so that it falls just past my butt, and I put on my slightly oversized cardigan. "And this is your stop," I say as I enter the classroom with the freshman. I half-jokingly state, "This is Mr. Collins. I am his most favorite student ever, and he misses my obnoxious questions and my very valuable  sarcasm in class." 

"Oh, no. It's Daya," Mr. Collins jokingly remarks as he looks up from his computer. The first thing I see is his chocolate brown eyes. "Daya, don't taint the innocent freshman." He stands up and introduces himself to the freshman I guided to his room. He continues, "I am Mr. Collins, I teach English and British Literature. I also am the moderator of the Creative Writing club, as well as the Journalism Club. What's your name?" He shakes the freshman's hand and guides her to his desk.  

"I am Cadence, but I go by Cady," she says. 

I interrupt their conversation, "Cady, I'll see you after school in the foyer."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Mr. Collins says as he runs his big hands through his short, straight brown hair. 

"Why?" I ask, trying to recall if Creative Writing Club had a meeting.

"I want to speak with you about," he searches for the words in the midst of a pause, "Creative Writing Club as well as your college recommendations from me." He sits in his seat while shifting around to find a comfortable position.

"Oh, alright. I'll see you after school, then. Cady, I'll see you tomorrow." I leave the room, pulling my skirt down. Trying to get your teacher's attention is fun, but it physically feels uncomfortable. Oh, shit, my underwear is stuck up my ass. I walk uncomfortably to the library to find my best friend, Carly, who spends her study halls studying. 

I bend over the desk, closing Carly's books. "Hello, sexy," I playfully greet her. Carly looks away from the books and focuses her attention on my skirt, which exposes more of my butt than I wish.

"I would call you beautiful, but I'm pretty sure that the librarian wants to see your wrinkly ass," she laughs quietly.

"Don't hate me because you ain't me," I state. "What are you doing after school?"

"I'm studying with Anthony for my chemistry final. Why are you asking?" 

"I have to get the costumes for the show, which involves lots of moving boxes."

"I'm sorry, babe." She pats my hand and then shoos me away. "If you loved me like you love Mr. Collins, you'd let me study." I feel my cheeks grow warm.

"Loving and lusting are two different things," I say.

"True, true. But you need to go so that I can study for these last 10 minutes of study hall," she kissed my hand.

"Worst best friend ever!" I playfully declare. 

"I'd like to think that I am the best in all I do," she says to me as I leave.