31 days in november

ii. sin curve

She tunes out the droning of the teacher. She knows the material. Like most things in life, PreCalc is useless for her.
Everyday lingers the same. To push through the monotony of the mundane, the inane, is equivalent to wading through a bog.
She taps her fingers, blue eyes flitting to the clock upholstered on the wall above the teacher's head.
If the clock fell, she thinks, onto the teacher, it would be infinitely more interesting than his lecture. Anything would be. Fifteen minutes into class and half of the students are asleep under the humdrum nature of summer cicadas buzzing outside, sunlight peaking through the open door, and the teacher's voice.
The door flies open and another girl skids into the classroom, babbling an apology of her tardy entrance.
The teacher pauses, midspeech, and with a somnolent drawl asks her to come introduce herself.
As the new girl shuffles herself to the front, the blue-eyed girl's gaze could not help but to follow her.
Her eyes rove over the girl's warm, tan skin, choppy-cut brown hair and clear green eyes. A ratty backpack and worn shoes. Despite the new girl's attempts to obviously remain inconspicuous, from her ratty clothing and purposely disheveled appearance, the girl's attention was glued to her.
The girl's eyes flit over the other girl's figure as she hastily introduces herself to the class, which responds with a sleepy hum of a salutation.
The girl tilts her head at the curvy graphs displayed on the whiteboard behind the apparent new student.
'Sin curves' they are labeled, as today's topic is trigonometric functions.
Her eyes flit back to the new girl, shuffling her feet as she mumbles her name.
The new girl was curvier, and plenty of sinful things were running through the
girl's mind.