her eyes and held out her hand. I snagged the card from my desk and put it in her hand. She flipped it over and typed the bar code into the website on her computer.
“I can’t believe it.” She shook her head.
“What? What’s wrong? Don’t tell me he lied! I’m going to starve!” I yelled toward the ceiling and stomped my foot. I was from Wyoming. I liked my food.
“He, um…” Monroe scratched her head. “He put you with us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nobody sits with us. It’s a private lunch period only for…” Monroe snapped her mouth shut. “You know what? Nevermind. Let’s get you ready so we’re not late.”
****
Monroe wasn’t with me in my first class which was some sort of politics class. I hadn’t really been one for politics, but because most of the people who went to school here ended up being world leaders, it was considered core curriculum. I looked to my left where a kid pulled out a flask.
On my right a girl texted someone and giggled behind her hand. The guy in front of me was reading a porno.
Safe to say the world of tomorrow was not in good hands.
Once the rest of the kids poured in, the lights flickered once, then twice. I learned quickly that meant that it was time to quiet down.
The door to the classroom opened. Nixon walked in.
You have got to be kidding me.
I looked around for an empty seat. There weren’t any. Curious, I watched as he went and stood behind the desk in the front.
“You all know me, and if you don’t, well then, ask someone next to you because I’m not repeating my name. Professor Sanders had a death in the family, and because I’m doing a business internship for him, he asked me to fill in. Many of you are seniors that have put off this class until the last year here. Welcome to Freshman Politics. This class is going to suck, it’s hard as hell, and if you don’t get a B, you basically flunk the class. But…” He stepped around the desk and leaned against it. “If you listen, do your homework, and keep your head out of our asses long enough to pay attention, you may just learn something.”
Okay, so as a person he sucked. As a teacher, I kind of dug the honesty.
“Trace,” Nixon called my name.
Just kidding, I wanted to feed him to a hundred piranhas.
“Yes?” I stood. Monroe had filled me in that every time a teacher called on you, you stood. At least I knew that much before being thrown into the lion’s den.
“Name all the Presidents of the United States. You have three minutes.”
I smirked, mainly because I had known the answer to that question since I was in sixth grade when Grandma made me memorize the presidents to the tune of a song.
I could bust them out without the stupid song. “Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Adams…” I rambled off all the names within two minutes. When I was finished, I sat down.
Every student in the room was gaping at me as if I was an alien or something.
Nixon walked slowly and purposefully toward my desk.
Crap. I probably pissed him off because I was smart and not stupid. But what else was I going to do during home school? Watch TV?
His boots clicked against the smooth concrete floor. Finally, he stopped in front of my desk. I looked up and waited for his reprimand.
He smiled. A real smile. Not one that made me want to inflict harm on his person, but one that revealed to me how ridiculously handsome he was. Man, that lip ring was distracting against his white teeth and dimples.
“Nice boots.” He looked down and then walked back up to the front of the class.
“First person who does exactly what New Girl just did earns an A for the day.”
Hands shot up around the room. Apparently I wasn’t Trace anymore. Well, that was short lived.
For the next hour I watched while other students tried and failed to copy my performance.
Class was finally dismissed.
I grabbed my book bag. I’d ordered it online a few months back in hopes that it would help me fit in. It was leather and cost way more than I knew Grandpa could afford. I shuffled out the door but Nixon’s voice stopped me.
“Are those Win’s?” he asked.
I paused in the doorway. I was the last student to leave. I turned on my heel and glared at him. “Yes.”
“Are they