Can You Keep A Secret? {[Student/Teacher]}

Chapter Three: What Really Happened?

I rolled over and turned off my alarm the next morning. Every fiber in my being was aching and I had a pounding headache.

I groaned and looked at my clock. 6:45. Crap. I had fifteen minutes to get rid of the black eye and scratches on my face.

I ran to my closet, ignoring the pain in my legs and stomach, and grabbed a pair of ripped, black skinny jeans. After pulling them on, I pulled a white, long sleeve over my head and cringed in pain. My back was throbbing and I think I opened up the wounds. I cussed under my breath and grabbed my black jacket. At least no one would be able to see the blood, I guess.

The bathroom mirror revealed a swollen jaw, a purple-ish black eye, a gash on my cheek, and a bruise on my forehead. I quickly put on cover up thickly, covering up most of the bruise and I put on my eyeliner, covering up the black eye. Most of it anyway. I wasn't too worried about the cut on my face. I could just tell people that I fell down the stairs.

I walked (limped) back to my room and grabbed my bag.

The doorbell rang and I tried to walk normally down the steps.

"Are you ready to go?" Miranda asked enthusiastically.

I smiled at her, "Of course."

We walked off the porch and she bombarded me with questions.

"What does he look like? If you say something like 'tall, dark, and handsome' I'll have to eat you because that's such a cliché."

I laughed at her and cringed. Damn it. "He has dark brown hair and blue eyes. He isn't that dark, he's not really tan either, but then again he's not pale white like I am." She snickered at that, "His eyes are this bright blue color and his accent was actually really hot."

She smiled, "I knew it would be, but you have to point him out to me. It's not even right that I can't be in that class. I'm just as good in English as you are." She whined.

"You're not missing much."

She groaned, "I know. You said that already. Now tell me what he did."

I sighed. "He got up out of the chair and stood close to me." I demonstrated by getting in her face, "He was so close I could smell the mint in his breath, and he looked down at me, of course, he's about 5'8", but anyway, and he started talking in these really deep voice. I thought I was going to melt."

She squealed, "That is so hot."

I nodded, "But it was weird because he didn't show any sign of backing off. I had to run out of the room."

She squealed louder, causing the people on the streets to eye us like we were crazy. "Maybe he's in to you too."

I looked at her, "Too? I'm not in to him."

She groaned, "You are so! Stop denying it."

"I'm not denying anything. I told you, he's-" I stopped.

There Mr. Carter was, getting out of his black, Mustang Convertible.

"Hello Ms. White." He greeted, a smirk threatening his lips.

Oh great. He overheard our conversation.

"Hello Mr. Carter." I said with the same tone.

Miranda looked from me to him and smiled flirtatiously, "So you're the new British teacher. I've heard so much about you from Deserae." She said.