Closet Rocker

Chapter: 1

The scribbling of pens and the rustling of papers were grating on my nerves as I stared at the clock on the wall, begging whatever power there was to make time speed up. The whole class was still working on the test that I had completed in record time, and I was growing impatient for them to wrap it up. I glanced down at my bubble sheet with its perfectly bubbled circles on all of the correct spots.

I knew I got a 100 percent; I was the one who helped make it up. Mr. Gordon only shuffled up the answers like it would make a difference. It didn’t. I guess that’s what you get when you are the straight-A teacher’s pet. Not that I had a choice, my papa would have my hide if I were any less than nauseatingly studious.

I tapped the toe of my converse in time with the ticking of the clock, and subtly strummed my fingers on my thigh to an imaginary song. I stopped when Mr. Gordon flicked his eyes in my direction, finally looking up from his computer screen to check on his class. By now, most of my fellow students were done, so that meant that they were either A- texting or B- throwing notes at each other, probably talking about the party tonight at some concert place. A party that I will most defiantly not be attending. He glanced at the clock, then down at his watch, and sighed. He looked back at his screen, the game of solitaire that he was currently loosing reflecting in his glasses. Today was a half-day, so everyone was eager to leave and get going. Half-days were always the best, but today my dad would be home earlier, so I have to get home quick so I would have time to practice.

“Alright class, it seems that you are all done, so class dismissed,” my peers erupted into cheers, and I was almost tempted to join them, but I didn’t dare.

“Turn in your packets and sheets as you leave, if you please,” he said, waving a dismissive hand at his desk and turned back to his game. I stayed back as the others rushed up to leave, most not even bothering to stack their papers and just threw them down on the desk. As the last student scampered out of the door and into the bustling hallway, I made my way to the front, my ratty backpack flung across one shoulder and work in hand. Mr. Gordon looked up at me as I approached and gave me a weary smile, which I returned.

“How do you think you did?” he asked, and I gave him a droll stare. He laughed, shaking his head at the question, and turned his attention to the messy pile of work. He sighed, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. Poor old man, teaching high school can’t be easy, I suppose.

“Need some help, sir?” I asked him quietly while peering at him from behind my glasses, and he gave me a grateful smile. He turned his attention back to his game that I could clearly see in the reflection of his glasses, and as I worked I could see that he was ignoring the card that would win him the game.

“Move the red 7 over to the black 8,” I told him as I placed my own test on the top, enjoying the look of shock and then understanding that flashed on my teacher’s face as his computer binged with the good news.

“Huh, I should have guessed, eh?” he laughed, shaking his head and pushing himself away from his desk. I smiled softly at him, glancing at the clock. My heart thudded in my chest at the time gone, and I realized that I needed to leave really soon.

“Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Gordon?” I asked, hoping he said no, but being polite nonetheless.

“Oh, no I think that’s it. Thank you very much for your help, Miss Castillejo,” he said, and I gratefully made my exit after a quiet “you’re welcome”. The halls were desolate and deserted as I hurried out of my school, but the parking lot was a little more active. The usual teacher’s cars were still parked, and the usual kids with detention’s cars were there, waiting for their teenage drivers to serve their punishments. I scurried to the bike rack, which was empty save for my own ride.