He said he did it because he didn’t want to be forced to deal with illiterate heathens everywhere he went. That was his story, anyway. Personally, Helen believed he taught because he absolutely loved it. Some of the other students didn’t get him and said he was a wannabe British snob, but Helen thought he was one of the best teachers she’d probably ever have.
“Miss Hamilton,” he said broadly as Helen stepped through the door, the bell ringing at exactly the same time. “Punctual as usual. I’m certain you will be taking the seat next to your cohort, but first, a warning. Any exercise of that talent for which one of you earned the sobriquet Giggles and I shall separate you.”
“Sure thing, Hergie,” chirped Claire. Helen slid into the desk next to her. Hergie rolled his eyes at Claire’s mild disrespect, but he was pleased.
“It is gratifying to know that at least one of my students knows that sobriquet is a synonym for nickname, no matter how impertinent her delivery. Now, students: another warning. As you are preparing for your SATs this year, I shall expect you all to be ready to give me the definition of a new and exciting word every morning.”
The class groaned. Only Mr. Hergeshimer could be sadistic enough to give them homework for homeroom. It was against the natural order.
“Can impertinent be the word we learn for tomorrow?” asked Zach Brant anxiously.
Zach was usually anxious about something, and he had been since kindergarten. Sitting next to Zach was Matt Millis, who looked over at Zach and shook his head as if to say, “I wouldn’t try that if I were you.”
Matt, Zach, and Claire were the AP kids. They were all friends, but as they got older they were starting to realize only one of them could be valedictorian and get into Harvard. Helen stayed out of the competition, especially because she had started liking Zach less and less the past few years. Ever since his father had become the football coach and started pushing Zach to be number one both on the field and in the classroom, Zach had become so competitive that Helen could barely stand to be around him anymore.
A part of her felt bad for him. She would have pitied him more if he wasn’t so combative toward her. Zach had to be everything all the time—president of this club, captain of that team, the guy with all the gossip—but he never looked like he was enjoying any of it. Claire insisted that Zach was secretly in love with Helen, but Helen didn’t believe it for a second; in fact, sometimes she felt like Zach hated her, and that bothered her. He used to share his animal crackers with her during recess in the first grade, and now he looked for any opportunity to pick a fight with her. When did everything get so complicated, and why couldn’t they all just be friends like they were in grade school?
“Mr. Brant,” Mr. Hergeshimer enunciated. “You may use impertinent as your word if you wish, but from someone of your mental faculties I shall also be expecting something more. Perhaps an essay on an example of impertinence in English literature?” He nodded. “Yes, five pages on Salinger’s use of impertinence in his controversial Catcher in the Rye by Monday, please.”
Helen could practically smell the palms of Zach’s hands clam up from two seats away. Hergie’s powers for giving extra reading to smart-ass students were legendary, and he seemed determined to make an example out of Zach on the first day. Helen thanked her lucky stars Hergie hadn’t picked on her.
She’d rejoiced too soon. After Mr. Hergeshimer handed out the schedules, he called Helen up to his desk. He told the other students to speak freely, and they immediately launched into excited first-day-of-school chatter. Hergie had Helen pull up a chair next to him instead of making her stand and talk across his desk. Apparently, he didn’t want any of the other students to hear what he was going to say. That put Helen a little more at ease, but not for long.
“I see you decided not to enroll in any Advanced Placement classes this year,” he said, looking at her from over his half-moon reading glasses.
“I didn’t think I’d be able to handle the extra workload,” she mumbled, tucking her hands under her thighs and sitting on them to keep them still.
“I think you’re capable of much more than you are willing to