Just a Substitute

*fictional.

substitute: black hair and green eyes.

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They called me four eyes in high school. (among other stuff). Words were their barbed wires, so it is quite ironic that I became a professor to the high school brats.

They think I'm joking when I insult them indirectly. Or call them out on their bullshit. Really...your mom is in the hospital? Oh, please. Could have brought the homework to complete there or better yet email me about it in advance. Maybe I'm too tough-on the students.

My girlfriend Megan thought so (rest in peace); her being a sweetheart of a soul wasn't enough for God to spare her.

But this isn't about her.

This is just about my job.

That is what I tell myself.

"You don't look so good, Mr. Michaels," said Scott as he bumped into me in a hallway. One of my favorite students. Not too loud or too shy. Self confident, not arrogant. Helpful and hardworking.

My papers went flying onto the floor, all scattered. My face burned. Time seemed to freeze for a few seconds as this fully sunk in. What was happening? Did I have too much coffee? Cause next thing I know I had poor Scott pressed up against a nearby locker.

"Don't. Touch. My. Stuff," I snapped venomously.

Bless their shallow hearts: a few students actually stopped gossiping to help me collect them. I made sure to make a mental note of their names to give them extra credit later: Chelsie Harper, Angela Gossett, Carson Cartwright, and Brett Carter. I sort of smiled at Chelsie as she handed me back a few sheets. She had really big boobs as evidenced by the style of top she wore that day.

"Oh not this nutjob," came a nearby male voice. Mr. Jacobs, the History teacher.

I sighed. We used to be good friends before I had had my legendary meltdown last year and got fired. With time and some therapy, I got back on my feet again. No help from Mr. Clark Jacobs.

I readjusted the glasses I wore quickly and smiled at him. Remember what the therapist had told you on how to deal with bullies...

"Good morning," I changed the subject. "Have a lovely day now." I hurriedly grabbed onto my briefcase, papers, and hurriedly walked off to my assigned classroom around the corner.

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Grinning, I wrote my name down on the front dry erase board. Luckily, no chalk and that I wasn't born in the 1800s. Three students were already there. I recognized two: Scott and Chelsie, but not the third. She sort of reminded me of Janice from the movie, Mean Girls. She had on a black skirt but not too short or too tight and a dark blue blouse.

"Can I help you...sir?" the girl asked suddenly.

I then realized I'd been staring too long-she just caught my eye. She was quite pretty, in her own way. Not too much make up, just enough.

I adjusted my glasses again.

More students had filled the room.

"No, not right now," I replied, as sternly as I could.

I went over to Scott. He flinched. A part of me wanted to smile. I liked being in control.

"I wanted to give you my sincerest apologies. I don't know what came over me back in the hallway, but know I am truly sorry."

Scott remained silent for a while. Then he shrugged.

"It's alright," he said finally.

"Awesome!" I exclaimed as I grinned a huge grin. His words meant so much to me despite there not being a lot.

I was much more enthusiastic than usual during class. Of course I blame a few of the good and the hot students for that.

Hardly anyone disrupted the class, except for a few troublemakers. I simply gave them detention.

At one point during class, as punishment, I made everyone read chapters 10 & 11 in their Psychology books then answer some questions.

Not everyone was pleased.

"How about can we not?" Arthur Stone said loudly. I hated him, his bad attitude, so I ignored him.

"Shut up and just do it!" the pretty black haired girl from earlier exclaimed.

"I don't want to be late for lunch," she quickly added after the students gave her some huge glares.

"What is your name?" I inquired, holding a ruler randomly. Just to intimidate folks and assert my dominance.

"Vanessa," she answered softly.

"Is that... a phone on your lap?" I asked. I had gotten a few feet closer to her and realized this. I sighed.

Vanessa blushed. For the first time, she seemed uneasy. I loved it.

I glanced over and down at her texts.

"Read them aloud please," I instructed as I folded up my shirt sleeves.

I wasn't going to tolerate this in my classroom.

"Excuse me?" Vanessa wanted to know.

"Your texts," I stated firmly.

She laughed a bit sharply.

"You must be joking. That's an invasion of my privacy," she pointed out.

"And you are interrupting an entire class. You are wasting my time," I replied.

For a while, we went back and forth arguing. A few clever kids got up and just left. Others stayed to witness the big show.

After class, I had a major headache.

I didn't say bye to anyone as they left the room. Surprisingly, Vanessa was the last to leave.

She paused at my desk.

"Yes?" I asked.

Without a word, she took out a bottle of aspirin from her purse and set one on my desk.

"I saw you rubbing your forehead a few minutes ago," she explained.

I quickly took it from her and shoved it in my mouth. "and I was texting about you. About how handsome you were," she added. Now it was my turn to blush. A sinking feeling formed in my stomach.

She sighed.

"But then, I've heard stories about you."

I raised an eyebrow at her.

"They aren't all true," I pleaded.

Please don't take me out of your hot radar: I wanted to say.

She shrugged.

"Well, here's my number since you're just a sub," she said then handed me a slip of paper. Blew some bubble gum in her mouth again. I grinned sheepishly.

"Thanks, this has been one hell of a day,"

I said. She smiled and left the room.

To Be Continued...