I scanned the room, amazed. I knew the kids in here. At least eight of them were like me, middleweight bad guys looking to move to the heavyweight division. Six or seven more, including the ones she had moved at the beginning of class, were actual thugs with arrest records three times the length of mine. Talking back to a teacher was as natural as blinking to them and so far, they hadn't made a peep.
Shock washed over me as I realized that if there was a cream of the crop somewhere at this school, Ms. Fisher had gotten stuck with the spoiled milk.
"Mr. Ramirez, do you have a question?"
I looked up, startled to find her right next to my desk, the question in her eyes.
"N-n-no Ma'am." The squeak in my voice had my heart jumping in my chest. I never stuttered in my life and this pale as milk, weird voiced teacher had me spooked. It was time to take control. I smirked and sank deeper into the seat. "I'm straight." I was proud to hear that my voice was back to normal. One dark brow curved upward and her lips tilted at the corners.
"You looked a little uncomfortable for a moment there, and you aren't taking notes — so I wondered." Her voice slid through my head like dark water and I felt myself straightening in the chair as I reached for my pen. I thought I'd just make it look like I was writing, keep her off my back. Didn't want any drama the first day. I looked down at my paper and wondered when I had written my name or the single paragraph of notes already there.
Maybe I should transfer to another class.
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