Everything: A Singed Wings Novel (7 page)
Before he could respond, I was tackle-hugged by one of Ashlynn’s best friends, Jayla Rios, with so much force that it slammed me into the wall, causing me to hold her tightly so we both didn’t go down in a heap.
“Everett, babe, I’ve missed you so much!” she exclaimed, nuzzling her face against my neck as we stood tangled together in the hall.
It was no secret that Jayla was interested in me. She’d made it very clear every time she spent the night with my sister, sneaking into my room late at night, letting me do pretty much anything I wanted with her young, limber, dancer’s body. But no matter how many times I told her and she claimed she understood that whatever happened between us in my bed stayed in my bed, she would still pull stunts like this at school or out in public, making it appear we were together. And although she never verbally pressed me for anything more, never texted or called me or showed up at my house unannounced, she wanted to make damn sure that all the other girls in our school were aware that I was off-limits. I could’ve put a stop to it if I really cared, but she actually helped in keeping the clingers away, and it was a for-sure BJ at least once a week.
That was before I’d experienced the Belle-effect. Now, Jayla’s act seemed immature, a bit desperate… and not in the good way.
Billy chuckled as I rolled my eyes. “I’ll leave you to that. Catch up with you at lunch,” he snickered as the tardy bell rang then took off toward his own class.
“Later!” I called out after him, while uncoiling Jayla’s lanky arms from around my neck.
I ignored her huff and separated myself from her. Unfortunately, she and I were in the same homeroom, so there was no escaping her completely. At least, not at the moment.
“Come on, go inside,” I ordered gruffly, opening the door to the already-packed classroom.
“Mr. Templeton, Miss Rios, so nice of you two to join us this morning. Can I get you a cup o’ tea or some coffee whilst you get settled in your desks?” Mr. Carroll joked with a half-cocked grin.
I smirked and shook my head, the sight of my teacher in a navy and green argyle sweater with khaki chinos and his damn penny loafers brought a genuine smile to my face. I seriously didn’t know how the guy pulled it off and still managed to look so fucking pimp. Glancing down at my own outfit
—
worn, tattered jeans with a black Billabong hoodie and my black chucks, I couldn’t ever imagine wearing some of the shit he did. I just wasn’t that guy.
“No sir, I already had a Starbucks this morning,” Jayla cooed, flipping her jet-black hair behind her shoulders and batting her eyelashes as she passed him on the way to her seat, “but thank you anyway.”
Tossing my backpack on the floor, I slid into my own desk, which was gratefully on the opposite side of the room from her. “We’re all good, Mr. Carroll,” I said. “Sorry we interrupted you.”
Another important lesson I learned early on was to make friends with the teachers. Even if they annoyed the shit out of me, which Mr. Carroll didn’t, but still… teachers had the power to make a student’s life a living hell or a walk in the park. Not sure what was wrong with the idiots who acted like disrespectful fucktards in class, but I, for one, wanted to make this whole high school thing as easy and painless as possible.
The next half hour dragged by as Mr. Carroll went over upcoming events such as the senior trip and prom, neither of which I had any desire to go to. Sorry, but I had no interest in spending spring break with my fellow students and teacher chaperones in Washington D.C., nor did I care to dress up in a tux and go to some lame-ass school dance with someone who I knew I probably wouldn’t see again after graduation. I wasn’t a pompous asshole, just a realist.
Finally, he passed out our new schedules
—
the last set of classes we’d ever have in this school. As soon as each person got theirs, they eagerly scanned the computer printout, reviewing their assigned teachers and electives, and within seconds, their faces either lit up with happiness or fell with disappointment. I prayed the scheduling gods were good to me this time.
Since my last name started with a T, I was one of the very last to get mine, and as Mr. Carroll handed it to me, he smiled brightly. “I was pleased to see your name on the roll for my third-period Poetry class, Everett. I think you’ll find it quite helpful when writing your lyrics.”
“Cool, I was hoping I’d get in it,” I replied, as I dropped my gaze to the sheet of paper, rapidly skimming over it.
1
st
period Music Theory V
Johnson
Good start to my day; Dr. Johnson and I had a good working relationship. He encouraged me to push my musical boundaries.
2
nd
period Concert Orchestra Johnson
Idiots in the class, but I couldn’t complain about two music classes to begin my day.
3rd period Poetry Carroll
Score! Best-case scenario for my required literature class.
LUNCH
4th period Economics Seville
Bleh. Not looking forward to the difficult class or old crotchety teacher.
5
th
period Marine Biology Veatch
A joke of a class, but I needed the science credit; Veatch was tolerable.
6
th
period Art History Wallace
Another win! Easy class with one of the nicest, most laid-back teachers at the school.
Overall, I was pleased with what I’d been assigned. Other than dealing with Ms. Seville, minimal effort would be needed to pass by with a B or C, and that was all I cared about. Sure, I could’ve probably made straight A’s if I tried, or at least the A/B honor roll had I actually done homework at home instead of in the dead-time during classes, but why, when I could spend that valuable time with my notebook and guitar?
“I saw you also got Art History,” Mr. Carroll commented, reminding me that he was still hovering next to my desk.
Lifting my eyes to meet his, I nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I lucked out with a good line-up this time. You and Ms. Wallace, two of my faves.”
“Oh, it still says Wallace on there?” he questioned, pinching his brow together as he leaned down and read the paper over my shoulder. “That should’ve been corrected.”
“Corrected? What do you mean?”
He stood up straight as an odd look flashed in his eyes. Something that I couldn’t quite place at first. “Ms. Wallace had to take an emergency leave of absence to take care of her sick mother,” he explained. “There’s a permanent sub for the semester
— Ms. Sloan.”
“Have you met her yet? What she’s like?” I asked, hoping this new teacher situation wasn’t going to be a thorn in my side.
“I have, and she’s…” This time when the expression appeared, I recognized it for what it was. Lust. Desire. Hunger. Whoever this new teacher was, Mr. Carroll was definitely interested, and I knew if he worked his old-school British charm like I’d seen him do before without even trying, the poor woman didn’t have a chance. He’d be “minding her gap” in no time.
“Say no more, Mr. Carroll.” I chuckled as I folded my schedule in half and stuck it in my binder. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”
The bell to go to first period rang, cutting off our conversation, and instantly, everyone jumped up and flew out the door. Everyone but Jayla, who waited for me at the front of the classroom, smirking impishly. Sighing, I hoisted my backpack up on my shoulder, called out a goodbye to Mr. Carroll, and strolled out of the room, heading toward the music wing. With Jayla by my side.
The rest of the day passed much as I expected it to. Mind-numbing hours of listening to teachers going over class rules and grading systems, followed by around-the-room introductions. Like most of us hadn’t been in school together for at least the last four years.
Fucking finally, it was time for my last class of the day, and I was stoked, because one, it meant I had only an hour left until it was time to go home, and two, I was interested in finally seeing this Ms. Sloan, who’d I’d heard rumblings about all day. Apparently, Mr. Carroll wasn’t the only one who’d taken a liking to the new Art History teacher.
I stopped at my locker to drop off my Marine Biology text then strode down the hall to room four-eleven, tipping my chin to a few people on my way. I hadn’t seen Jayla since early that morning, so unless she was in the room I was about to walk into, I’d gotten lucky and didn’t have any classes with her. Billy, on the other hand, I had for Economics, which made me feel tons better. If I had to be miserable for an hour every day, at least I’d have my best friend there to suffer with me.
Turning the knob, I swung open the door and stepped inside the classroom, my eyes impatiently searching the room for the much talked about Ms. Sloan…
But the only person I could see was Belle.
My
Belle.
IT WAS THE
last class of the day. The finish line was in sight. My ankle throbbed from standing on it for long periods of time and my throat was dry and scratchy from all the talking I’d done, but for the most part, I felt good about the first day with the students. Mr. Carroll, or Liam as he insisted I call him this morning, had advised me to adopt a take-no-shit attitude with the kids while keeping a friendly demeanor. And though that was easier said than done, by third period, I’d found my groove and became more confident in front of the classroom.
Art History was only offered to seniors, so luckily, my students were all within a semester of graduating and not looking to cause unnecessary trouble. A few of them were a little mouthy, trying to elicit a laugh out of the class, but they seemed harmless for the most part. I’d purposely dressed in my most conservative black pantsuit, hoping to emphasize my position of authority and stave off any improper comments or looks from the students, but with the combination of my decent looks, young age, and being fresh meat in a school where the majority of the female teachers were frumpy and over forty, I think I could’ve worn a nun’s outfit and the testosterone-filled seventeen-and-eighteen-year-old boys still would’ve ogled me like I was serving them hot wings in a Hooter’s uniform. I opted to ignore it. After all, they were just boys.
“Good afternoon. Come on in.” I stood up and rounded my desk to greet the students with a warm, welcoming smile as they started to file in, recognizing the same look of relief on their faces that the day was almost done. “Sit down wherever you like. I don’t do alphabetical order or assigned seating.”
Most of them smiled back or said a quick hello before selecting a desk; a few stared at me strangely, obviously expecting Ms. Wallace to be standing at the front of the class instead of me. I liked watching as they decided where to sit, as if it made that big of a difference to sit in the front of the class versus the back, or that being close to the door would allow them to escape that much faster than those by the windows when the bell rang. Friends obviously grouped up, especially the girls, and it didn’t take me long to differentiate between the various cliques. Though, unlike my high school that had the preps, the jocks, the geeks, the stoners, and the wannabe gangsters, among others, the students at HSPVA divided themselves by talent
— the artists, the singers, the dancers, the musicians, and the drama kids. It was quite an interesting dynamic, and with my love for both art and music, I was eager to see how good these kids really were.
“Where’s Ms. Wallace? Is she coming back?” a tall, thin girl with the shiniest long black hair I’d ever seen asked
as she slid into a desk in the front row. She was strikingly pretty, exotic-looking with her naturally-tanned skin and almond-shaped eyes, and I immediately pegged her as a dancer with her slender frame and toned legs that seemed to stretch for miles out from under her short pleated skirt.
A twinge of jealousy panged in my stomach as I silently cursed my mom for passing along the short-people genes to me. Why couldn’t I have taken after my almost-six-foot-tall dad in that department?
Pushing my thoughts aside, I turned my polite smile toward the girl. “Once class starts, I’ll tell everyone all at once to keep from repeating myself, but no, she won’t be back this year. I’ll be your teacher for the entire semester.”
After eyeing me from head to toe, a frown tugged down her perfectly-painted red lips as her nose curled up in a half-snarl. “I may need a schedule change,” she mumbled to another girl next to her, who was just as tall and skinny, but not nearly as pretty. They giggled together then began whispering about something.