Stealing from the Bad Boy [completed]

CHAPTER EIGHT

"What? That is the definition of 'fraternising with the enemy'," My face drops.

"Well I'm not helping you then," she smirked and waited for me to think about it. "At least I don't like Cameron, which would really be fraternising with the enemy."

"Fine, I'll help you," I think about it for a moment. "Actually that's perfect."

"Why, what were you thinking?"

"That you can be the undercover agent, get all the intel."

"Uh, fine," she groans. "But you have to help me. I get all flopping around him."

The only time I'd ever spoken to Max he was actually really nice, it was when the pranks first started to take off and the mess was impossible to clean, he offered to help and of course I took it. I needed all the help I could to get rid of the tape, glue and balloon residue.

"You two would be so cute together," I smile at her smile.

"Come on, I got to get the Bio."

"And me to English, I'll see you in 2." She walked her separate way and I walked mine.

The time table doesn't have the teachers name written on it, however, it did have the number class, to which I could figure out the selection of teachers that could possibly be teaching.

Due to my calculations I had one of two options. Option number one was Mr Reeves, I had him two years ago and he was the best teacher I ever one. One that would give you helpful feedback and actually answer your questions. Option two on the other hand was Mrs Haft, the teacher you didn't wasn't to be stuck with for two years.

However when I walk into the class that looked about half full, I didn't see either teacher but something much more surprising... Cameron Tanner sitting at the back of the classroom, obnoxiously laughing.

Then I sit down besides Bruce who liked to be referred to as Batman and received a second shock when Mrs Haft walks through the door.

The whole class groaned which I found quiet hilarious and joined in. Mrs Haft had one of those monotone voices, considering she was an English teacher that tended to be a bad characteristic. She would do things that she thought we would find fun but were actually extremely boring, including spelling quizzes, pop quizzes, working as a class and worse of all... quick fiction.

Quick fiction was when each student had five ten minutes or so to write a piece of fiction, however today she got a large marker and wrote 'quick non-fiction' on the board. I've always liked non-fiction but loved fiction.

"Today class I will give each of you 20 minutes to write a piece on what you did over the holidays, I don't want any recounts, I want a story. Be creative and be detailed." She stops for a moment. "I am Mrs Haft and I will be your teacher for the next two years. Now make these pieces standout, I will ask a few to read theirs in front of the class.

I decide to write about Christmas and the holiday traditions of the pool race, but I look over at Batman and he has just written 'I hate English' over and over again then occasionally writing 'why don't we learn French?'

This year is going to be so fun.

I had written my piece in 10 minutes, and I stared at the clock the remaining time. Haft pulled out a list from a draw under her desk and ran her nail down the sheet. "Miss Jean," the whole room went quite as we turned to see Veronica Jean turn pale. "Up you come."

Ronnie wrote a wonderful piece about how she had to spend a few extra days after New Year's up at her holiday house due to bad weather and blocked roads.

"Thank you Veronica that was wonderful," the whole class silently praised Veronica and prayed their name wouldn't be called next. "We only have time for two more, Mr Brown you and Mr Tanner will read yours to the class, decide amongst you who goes first."

It was obvious that neither wanted to speak first, Dominic Brown had no chance however with Cameron Tanner, I knew that from first hand-experience, you may as well fold your cards earlier and save your time.

Dominic got up in front of the class and clearly had to make up his presentation on the spot as he hadn't written anything down, I could imagine Batman doing the same thing. He rambled on about his Christmas, everything between wake and sleep in detail. Going to the bathroom, washing his hands, taking a shower, getting dressed. Mrs Haft stopped him after five minutes when he got up to trying to remember which present he received first.

Up next was no other than Cameron. I expected him to have nothing prepared but I was shocked to see him holding a paper with actually writing on it.

"My holiday season began when a very important event in my life stopped. The concert seen by many people in this room," he gestured with a hand and an open palm. "Ended as the man, the myth, the legend Freddie Blac through his drum sticks to the crowd. He pointed to himself and began walking up and down the classroom, all of our eyes following. "I was lucky enough to receive one of those drumsticks. However I simply couldn't be the owner of just one," he held up a finger, "of Freddie Blac drumsticks... I needed both."

"Okay, I think that's..." Mrs Haft began to dismiss Cameron but he continued.

"Hold on," to Mrs Haft "I'm nearly finished." He turned back to the class, walking to the front.

"If anyone has any information about the owner of said drumstick, I would greatly appreciate it, plus I have a reward for whoever gives me said drumstick." He holds up the paper he was holding, the one I thought had his speech written on was actually another poster.

"Anyone who gives me a fake drumstick in hopes for the reward will be punished. Blac etches each of his drumsticks, so I would appreciate the matching pair. Thank you," he sat back down.

"Well," Mrs Haft definitely wasn't expecting that, I'm pretty sure no one was. "That concludes our lesson if you would..." The combined noise of our chairs swinging back under the desk made Mrs Haft's speech impossible to hear.

All of my classmates walk straight up to Cameron after class asking what the reward was. The second the words 'two' and 'hundred' came out of Cameron Tanners mouth, I knew the gossip in the school would come to a halt and the only thing anyone would talk about was this drumstick.

The very same drumstick I had back home in my safe.