Mr. B. Urie

5

(^Taya^)

"How come you never told me about him before?" Taya asks as we walk down the street to Starbucks.

"I didn't think it was relevant?" I offer, biting my lip. Taya stops in the middle of the sidewalk and looks at me like I'm a monkey in a zoo.

"You didn't think that your very attractive family friend, who also happens to be your English teacher, was relevant? At all? Not even a little bit? Come on, Arie!" I laugh lightly and shrug. To be completely honest, I didn't think Brendon would make up a story. I thought he might admit what was really going on, I guess I underestimated his cleverness.

"Taya, I've known him for so long that it just didn't even occur to me that anything was different." I lie, pulling her down the sidewalk. She clicks her tongue and then grins at me evilly.

"Have you two ever had a thing?" My eyes widen and I look at her in shock. "Oh my God! You have one right now, don't you? You're totally banging your teacher! Ariella, that's messed."

"I am not 'banging' my teacher. We just have a casual relationship, and if you say anything to anyone, I will cut out your tongue and make you an Avox." Taya snaps her mouth shut quickly.

"But he's so much older than you," she says finally as we reach Starbucks.

"Five years, he's 22. That's less than your parents' age gap." Her parents are seven years apart, and they turned out just fine.

"Yeah, but you're still underage." She protests, stepping up to the order station. "Can I get a grande caramel macchiato and a tall vanilla bean frappuccino please?"

"So we'll keep it on the down-low until I turn 18. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well for one—" Taya starts to say. I'm beginning to realize what's really at stake if Brendon and I get caught. There's so much to lose . . .

"Don't answer that. Look, I know that he could get arrested and go to jail and all that, but we'll be careful. I promise." I say, grabbing my frappuccino and sitting in a large leather chair. Taya sits across from me in a huff.

"Well if you promise . . ." She says sarcastically. I know she's just looking out for me, but I can handle this situation. I hope.

****

"Alright, silent reading for the first ten minutes, let's go." Brendon claps his hands and everyone grabs a book. He sits down at his desk and pulls out his own book, subtly tossing a small square of paper onto my desk. I unfold it to see what's written on it.

Take out your phone.

I raise an eyebrow at him and he mimes texting on an invisible phone. I pull mine out of my pocket and unlock it, just in time to hear Brendon clear his throat. "Ariella, you know the rules. No phones in class, I'll take that." He says grabbing my phone before I can lock it again. I scowl up at him and he winks quickly, sitting back down at his desk. "Keep reading."

He pretends to read, but I can see him typing something into my phone. He's probably adding his number or something. "Okay, ten minutes is up. Let's get down to business!"

"To defeat the Huns?" I blurt out without thinking. Brendon's head snaps in my direction and he has a strange look on his face like he's trying to frown, but he's also trying not to laugh.

"Very funny." He drawls monotonously. "Can anyone tell me what a trope is?" He turns back to the class. "No googling it!" He adds as people start to pull out their phones.

I raise my hand, remembering the lesson I learned last year on figurative language. He nods at me to answer. "A trope is a five-dollar word for a cluster of literary devices. So, like, if you're reading a poem and it uses a metaphor over and over again, or once at the beginning, a few times throughout and once at the end, that's a trope. It's really nothing on its own, just a label." Brendon smiles down at me, impressed by my answer.

"You should become an English teacher," he jokes, passing out worksheets to the class. "Either alone or in pairs find as many literary devices as you can in this poem. You have until the end of the period, and then I'm collecting them. Go!" I have to admit, Brendon is a pretty awesome teacher. He's always energetic and animated with the way he talks and it really gets his point across.

Everyone gets into groups, even though he said pairs, and starts to work on the poem. I sit at my desk by myself and sift through it. After a few minutes, Brendon comes over and squats beside my desk. "Hey, why are you working alone?"

"I get things done faster this way." I shrug, underlining an example of onomatopoeia.

"I see . . . Well, collaboration with others is a big part of life, and I'd like to see you step out of your comfort zone a bit this semester, okay Arie?" He's totally bullshitting me, I'm sure he doesn't care if I'm a loner or not, but I don't call him out on it, just nod.

"Don't call me Arie when there are students around," I whisper, almost inaudibly. A smile plays on his lips and he stands up.

"I'll see you after class for your detention, Ariella." Oh, is that what he's calling us sitting around talking after school? I guess that's one way to prevent people from getting curious, and I was 'caught' with my phone.

The bell rings and I continue to work on the poem in front of me as the rest of the class trickles out of the room. I hear the door click closed and wing-tipped shoes waltz across the floor towards me. "Here," Brendon says, sliding my phone onto my desk. I unlock it and check my contacts. There's a new one called 'B 😋😙' and a contact photo of him smirking.

"Cute," I giggle, sending a text so he has my number too.

"I know you are, but what am I?" He pulls me to my feet and tilts my chin so that I'm forced to look him in the eyes.

"Isn't that supposed to be used as an insult?" I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Just shut up and kiss me," Brendon sighs and presses his lips to mine. I smile into him but pull away quickly.

"This is probably not the best place to do this." I look towards the door anxiously. Brendon steps away, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Do you want to come to my house?" He asks, walking to his desk and shoving papers into his briefcase. "I'd have to pick you up at your place to avoid suspicion, but that gives you time to drop your bag off and stuff."

Go to his house? I mean, he's already been to mine, why not? On the other hand, he's still my teacher, what kind of secrets does he have to hide? Do I want to know? "Okay. I'll leave now, come get me in ten."