And what awaits me? Only my least favorite teacher, Ms. Owens.
"Late, Mr. Finnegan."
I merely nod and try to make my way to my seat, only to have her block the aisle. Her arms are crossed. Even though they're like that ninety percent of the time, I can tell it's a bad sign.
I look her dead in the eye, a skill I've perfected over the last semester. She has this tendency to stare down her students and basically treat them like underlings, and she hates me the most, because I'm that rebellious peasant in the corner who makes straight A's, even though she doesn't really teach the class at all.
"Would you like to present one of your various excuses for this tardy?" She questions, raising an eyebrow.
I squint slightly to make her think I'm actually pondering the question, then shake my head. "No, not worth it."
"Very well," she says, moving to let me pass,"Now have a seat."
Gladly.
I move to my desk, all the while watching the faces of the other students. Everyone has their heads down, as if the evil teacher will give them a tardy, too, if they make eye contact with the bad student. I'm about to pass Kyrie's desk when she peeks up at me. I meet her eyes for a split second before moving past her. I slide into my seat and prepare for another lecture of why teachers are superior to students. After fifteen minutes of staring out the window across the room, I'm about to open one of my new novels when a folded bit of paper is slid onto my desk. I look at it questioningly before unfolding it.
<So, no excuse today? That's somewhat surprising.>
I look at Kyrie's back for a moment, then reach into my pocket, extract a pen, and scribble a reply under her writing.
<Of course I have one. But it's not like she'll believe me.>
I refold the paper and slide it to the corner of my desk. Kyrie notices it and waits for Evil Owens to write something on the board, then Kyrie reaches behind her and slyly takes back the paper. Seconds later, it's back on my desk.
<What could have happened to you that's so insane that she won't believe you? :) >
This is the reply I'd hoped for.
<Troll in the bathroom.>
After she receives the note, I think about opening my book, but I can't because I'm wondering what she'll say back. Is she even going to understand what I meant?
Owens turns to the board. The paper is on my desk. I quickly unfold it.
<LOL. Harry Potter reference. Nice. :D What spell did you use?>
Okay. I'm slightly ashamed of this, but if Kyrie and I had been exchanging emails when this conversation went down, I probably would have screamed. Don't judge. When a nerdy trekky finds out that his gorgeous crush gets a reference like that, it's a pretty big moment. So you can see why I almost screeched in class.
"Mr. Finnegan!"
My head snaps up and I look at Ms. Owens, who's glaring at me from the front of the room.
"Are you paying attention?"
I glance behind her at the board, where the only things she's written is the word TEACHERS in large letters above the tiny STUDENTS. I can vaguely make out a small crown beside the T in teachers. Or maybe I'm just imagining things.
"Now and always, Ms. Owens," I answer. She gives me a curt nod before turning back to the board. I hastily write a spell on the note, but as I do, the bell rings. The room basically explodes. Students crowd toward the door, and, to my dismay, Kyrie is among them. She turns and gives me a small smile before passing through the door.
Author's Note:
Fun Fact: In my quest to find the correct spelling of "trekky" I found this, and it made me smile.
| trekky | 19 up, 36 down | |
1. A small greasy fellow with flaky skin who watches so much Star Trek that he can fluently speak Klingon. Showers infrequently. Dresses up as Captain Kirk and tries to get autographs from washed up 70's sci-fi actors, who have no other means with which to pay their bills but to show up at conventions.
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