The Undercover Bad Boy

Chapter Two: Charming

Chapter Two: Charming

He had dark brown hair, combed back neatly with such precision it was as if he had super glued it in place. Dark, thick rimmed glasses framed his eyes, making them look like they were enlarged ten times their normal size. And then there were his clothes; made up of a light-coloured collared shirt underneath a beige sweater all tucked into his jeans.

He definitely looked the part of a math genius.

I scooped my bag up, swung it over my shoulder and exited the room. There was no reason to be there anymore. I knew who my tutor was now.

The hallway was partly empty, except for a few other students at their lockers. I heard the door open, followed by two sets of footsteps. Tara and Luke had rushed out to join me.

"So, no we've established who my tutor is," I began, ignoring their questioning looks.

"Don't you want to even talk to him?" Luke interrupted.

"He was busy," I shot back. "Class will start soon anyway."

As if on cue, the bell rang.

We all parted ways to our different classes. As I was still in the maths department, I only had to walk a few steps before I was lined up outside of my classroom.

I rested my back on the display and shut my eyes. I had five minutes until the rest of the students would show up. My thoughts consisted of wanting more sleep, wanting to engulf a pizza whole and (not or) catch up on my TV shows. It's nice to know what my priorities were.

Three quarters into the lesson I found myself staring out of the window, humming along to the theme tune of Adventure Time. I wasn't looking at anything in particular, just at some random spot on the grass, letting my thoughts take over. I did that a lot. I liked to let my mind travel to some other reality and take a break from the real one.

I needed someone to restore my faith back into humanity.

It was then, sitting in that lesson, gazing out of the window, when I realised why I was failing maths. I didn't pay attention. And to make the effort to pay attention so far into the term seemed a pointless commitment.

I tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear and finally decided that it was time to open my textbook. Carlton was pacing at the front of the room. Mathematic formulas flooded out of his mouth like water.

They went through my brain. Like. Water.

He was a young teacher, late twenties or maybe early thirties. He was the first math teacher to ever have the patience to deal with my low grades. I owed it to him, he did try.

"Alex, could you hang back at the end of the lesson," Carlton said as he walked passed my desk.

I nodded in reply before pretending to read a page of my textbook.

"Oh, and, maybe next time, if you are trying to convince me that you're paying attention, at least be on the right page," he added. "Page three-hundred-and-two, Alex."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, Mr Carlton," I replied smoothly. "Page three-hundred-and-two, got it."

He shook his head, an amused grin playing on his features, and then continued his patrol down the rows of desks.

Before long, the class ended. I remained seated at my desk, taking longer than usual to pack away my books so that no one would ask questions.

A minute later, when everyone had finally departed, a soft knock on the door sounded.