Lost Soul

Too Smart (10)

"Did...did she just keep her word and post again...?"

"I think she did..."

"Excuse-mua! Of course I updated on time! I mean, when have I not?"

*rolls eyes*

Enjoy da chapter mi amigos!

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Sitting in Psychology, I take a moment to observe the creepy teacher's wardrobe choices since I finished the easy worksheet in the first five minutes. He is wearing black slacks and a lime green button up shirt, with a brown tie.

I don't know much about fashion, but I'm pretty sure that this whole fiasco he's got going on doesn't really fly in the whole 'matching' category. I, of course, don't comment. I plant to secretly plan to keep my eyes on this odd species I've just now discovered roaming the school. I've engraved him in my memory. He is filed under the 'Creepy-pedo-untrustworthy-never be caught in the same room alone with' tab.

It's sad that I actually have that file in the first place. It's really too bad that one man, in particular, didn't get that label until it was too late. I shudder at the memory and I lock it up in the back of my mind. I've created a dam of sorts in my head that keeps all the bad memories and past experiences held at bay. The day that dam breaks-

So do I.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when I catch a whiff of mold and cigarettes. I scrunch my nose at focus back on Mr. Schmitt who has both hands in the air in mid-yawn. His yellow teeth proudly present themselves once more.

I focus back on the worksheet I was given and pretend to scribble more on it. When my acting abilities ware off and I have run out of doodles to draw, I get up and walk over to his desk. I set it neatly down in front of him. He looks up from a Playboy magazine that is so terribly disguised inside an upside-down book, and peers at me with a 'are you kidding me' face.

I give him a smug smile, twirl around, and march back to my seat. I notice that the class is looking at me with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Is this not normal? Did I do something wrong? Maybe I wasn't supposed to turn it in or something. I decide not to dwell on the topic and proceed with my utterly fake confidence to my desk. Looking at the clock, I see three minutes remaining.

"Miss Sorenson, a word with you please." Mr. Schmitt hisses.

Not really surprised I make a show of sighing when I stand back up and make my way to his desk. The students all stop what they are doing and watch. "Get back to work!" He Growls. The students snap their heads back to their mostly blank worksheets.

"Now miss Sorenson, I'd appreciate it if you would not make me look like an idiot in my own classroom!" He whisper-yells. Refusing to give him a reaction, I glare at him. His face slowly contorts into a predatory smile, "I see we have a prissy little shit on our hands huh? Thinkin' she owns the place-treating me like an idiot!" He spits, " Well, how do you feel about detention Miss Sorenson?" Seething like a venomous snake and waits for my reply.

It's moments like these where I am thankful for being a mute. I don't believe I would be able to peep out a word otherwise. I feel my glare slipping and his smirk growing. It's like he's sucking the last ounce of my determination and using it against me.

Having no other option, I submit and look away. He sees this as a victory and chuckles darkly. "That's what I thought," he mummers "I wonder if you're this submissive in bed?" He questions.

Stone cold fear is what I feel, but before he sees my reaction the bell rings signaling the end of second hour. I sprint to my desk, grab my book bag, and hightail it out of there like the bats of hell are chasing after me.

Hopefully Art class will be less intense.

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Yes yes I know it's short but I REALLY wanted to get this part in.

Me: "This school is crazy though-like who would hire this guy into an elite school!? Why didn't anyone do anything??? People I Swear!"

You: "Uh, you're kinda the one who wrote it..."

"Ohhh yeah."