“Lucille Douglas?” A tall and thin, exotic woman by the name of Ms. Sirois with a mesmerizing voice, called. “Here!” I exclaimed, waving my hand. The woman noted my attendance, and went on with the rest of the students. It was my first day of the tenth grade at Warren Central High School, here in Vicksburg, Mississippi. It’s a place known for its role in the Civil War back in the 1800’s. I’ve moved into this town from Los Angeles, California, so I’m trying to get adjusted to its quaint and cozy way of life.
“Looks like everyone but Carter Dawson is here today. Missing the first day of school gives a bad impression, my dear students!” Ms. Sirois said, with a half-hearted smile. She was almost like a work of art. She was a dream boat in a male’s eyes. Not only was she tall and slender, but she was busty, and had definite hips. Her hair was long, jet-black, she bore violet eyes, obtaining the color from a genetic mutation, and she had full lips. “Now, would anyone like to tell me about themselves?” No hands went up. Certainly I wouldn’t want the attention on me. I already got enough of it from students asking me about California.
Ms. Sirois glanced at the seating chart. “Neville Sanders.” She called. “No thanks. And it’s Nev, by the way.” A deep voice bellowed. I turned around to look at the defiant student. This boy bares the resemblance of a 1950’s greaser, but with a sort of classiness to him. “I wasn’t asking. Tell the class about yourself Neville.” She ordered.
He sighed and after a few moments, decided to speak. “I’m Nev Sanders. I have been in Dickburg all my life, and as everyone else, I hate it. I also hate everyone in it.” He spat. With his mockery of the town’s name, many of the students were amused, but like a few other students, I was irked. “A student receiving detention within the first ten minutes of first period? That’s a new record for a student in my teaching career. Leave now, Mr. Sanders.” With that, he got up, received the detention slip from a steaming Ms. Sirois, and left the room.
“We’ve had enough sharing today. Let’s resume with the opening business.” That Neville, or Nev, is one big bowl of trouble. I made a mental note to myself to stay away from him as much as I possibly could. I don’t want to make a fool of myself in my new home, and he would bring just that. However, I cannot deny that I do find him attractive, but that will not change the fact that he is an utter moron.
I had not realized I was spacing out until someone entered the classroom. The chit-chat among the other students ceased at once at his entrance. This boy was well-built, with nice muscles, but they didn’t protrude so much to make his appearance somewhat intimidating. He was not too tall, but he was not short. He had sandy brown hair, with the iciest of blue eyes. His skin was of a tanner complexion, and I would be lying if I said he was not perfect. “Ah, so you’re Carter Dawson. Being tardy on the first day does not sit well with me, Mr. Dawson. Have a seat next to Lucille.” She gestured towards the empty chair next to mine.
I could almost feel the glares digging into my back from the other girls in the classroom. Carter seemed to gracefully float over to the desk, and silently pulled the chair out from under the table and placed himself down gently, as if to try to not harm the chair. Ms. Sirois continued with the class affairs, and went over the course content. As I was trying hard to pay attention the discussion, I was suddenly pulled away from something brushing up against my leg. “Take it.” Carter mouthed. He had slipped me a note, and for what reasons, I couldn’t begin to grasp. I quickly grabbed the note, and unfolded it quietly under the desk. What kind of idiot passes a note in the front row? I thought. The handwriting was exquisite, with no smudges or smears. It was an art piece all in its own, and it resembled ancient handwriting I learned about in History class in the seventh grade. Hello, sorry to bother you with the annoyance of a note. I would just like to let you know that you should bear no interest in me. For your own good. Thank you for taking the time to read this, Lucille. What in the hell does that mean? Is this some type of joke? Is everyone trying to trick the new girl? Is this a way of welcoming me? I looked at him, and he sensed my confusion, and snapped his head forward. I must have muttered something, for Ms. Sirois loomed over me, as if interested. “Anything you’d like to say, Ms. Douglas?” She said, obviously annoyed. “O-oh no. I have nothing to say.” I stuttered. “Then next time speak when permission is given.” She noted. I nodded, and looked down at the daily planner that the whole class was given. It was bound by plastic spirals, and on the cover was a collage of pictures of the town, and in the center, a cartoon Viking. Warren Center’s mascot is a Viking, apparently.
