Why Me?

Chapter Two

This Is My Life Now I Guess.

I had changed Into the spare dress. a loose soft pink dress. that my Auntie Lizzie had made me pack just in case. I was thanking God for her resourcefulness right about now. If only her resourcefulness could save me from this hole I dug for myself. I sat apart from everyone else. my ankles tightly crossed, my fingers drumming the table quickly. I was more than nervous. I think he was going to shoot me.

The door opened and I shot up straight It was him now dressed is a blue university t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He found me quickly in the crowd glaring as he made his way to the front of the room everyone quieting down as he did.

"Hello class I apologize for being late I had to change my clothing because a fellow student of yours spilled my own coffee all over me a few minutes ago," he bit his eyes piercing me. I feet myself redden as everyone looked towards me laughing softly and quietly. I rubbed at my neck wincing and looking at my notebook in front of me.

"Anyway my name is Mr. MacNeil. You can not call me 'Mac' or 'Neill'or my first name if you Ever find out what it is. I an not your friend and not your bro. I do not want to become close to you I do not care what goes on in your personal life I an here teach you the basis of photography and that will be the extent of our relationship. Now everyone take a single sheet of this paper I am going to hand around and draw Whatever comes to your mind"

He picked up a stack of white copy paper from his desk and waved it in the air looking pointedly around the room and plopped the stack on the desk of the student across the room from me. his eyes slid over to me making me look quickly down at my desk There were light whispers beginning to circulate the room

"Quiet! There will be no talking." Mr. MacNeil shouted beginning to walk across the room towards me, his hands tucked behind his back.

The papers moved with him, falling behind as they moved in a zigzag pattern between the spare populace of students in the room. I wondered why so little were here. Did they somehow hear of his reign of terror and switch to a different class? Was he always like this then? Was it not just me? He came to a stop in front of my desk moving to face me with military precision I didn't look up at him. I kept my eyes on his coffee-stained loafers.

He stayed there, facing me I was too scared to check if he was staring I felt like he was through an unfamiliar heaviness weighing down on me, making me sweat. my fingers twitched, picking at the edges of my notebook.

The copy paper finally reached me I took a sheet my hands shaking, and before I could do anything Mr. MacNeill stepped forward and grabbed the stack from me He tugged the papers sharply from me making me flinch a little. He walked away, each footstep harsh. jesus was he going to torture me like this from now on?

I shook my head, gently laying my paper down over my notebook and tucking some loose strands of hair behind my ear. I took a pencil from my 'Hansel and Gretel' pencil bag and focused on my blank paper, knowing that Mr. MacNeill's eyes were on me again. It was like he wanted to break me down without even touching me. He might succeed. I tried to ignore him, lightly pressing the point of my pencil to the paper and immediately starting to scribble. I scribbled, not thinking of what the graphite was doing, where my hand was leading it. I was only thinking of the image of my sister's face, her short bouncing blonde bob, and her sparkling blue eyes. I felt myself smiling, scribbling and scribbling, until, suddenly, I was done.

I looked down at the almost life-like image of my younger sister down on the once blank paper, each line gentle and pulsing with energy, an energy that made the pencil drawn scribble/sketch seems like the real thing. If only there was color.

Before I could put my pencil down, my paper was snatched out of my field of vision. Startled, I jumped back and looked up. Mr. MacNeill was walking away with my drawing, slow, contemplating. I looked around, seeing everyone was still drawing, some glancing at me the way everyone has always glanced at me. My classmates have always seen me as a freak. I was a perfectionist, and people learned to resent me for it they always thought I was a freak.

"Is anyone else done?" Mr. MacNeill asked, turning to the class, turning my drawing to fold in towards his chest. I glanced around again. No one said anything. He made a noise as if he found this interesting. "Well, it seems we have a model student already. Everyone should look to Ms..."

The room turned to me, Mr. MacNeill included. His deep green eyes seemed to burn me like acid. I felt myself tense up under his gaze, my eyes darting to look away.

"Guascato. Noelle Guascato," I said, shy and quiet.

"Ms. Guascato is someone all of you need to strive to be. Efficient and fast. Now, you all have a minute left. Thank Ms. Guascato for your new expectations," he said, looking at his watch as he walked around his desk before plopping down in his chair.

Whispers spread around the room behind me, eyes glaring in my direction and lips snarling. MacNeill gently lay my drawing down on his desk, then turned his twisting office chair to face me, his hand coming up to support his chin. His eyes met mine, their gaze challenging, an evil smirk on his face. I realized I was glaring back, my jaw slightly tense. He raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'Your move.'

I sighed, groaning quietly a little, and turning to look at the wall, hiding behind my hair. So, this is my life now. I am going to be tortured by a good-looking jerk of a teacher for my first year of college. Fantastic.

Whew! I got it typed in time Y'all don't know how hard it is for me to type stuff, like I have the attention span of a 5-year-old but I got it done so we all good.