Touching Melody - By RaShelle Workman Page 0,64

and a white t-shirt. Throw on a coat, grab my books, and head to Bitchy Spears' office. I need to discuss my late assignments and hopefully get an extension. After I speak with her, I’m going to speak with my Biology, Math, and Government teachers. Thanksgiving break is coming up, and I’m hoping I’ll be able to catch up on all my work over the holiday.

Outside the sky is thick gray, heavy with promised moisture. It smells like snow. The hint of white flakes swirling in the air, covering everything with a chilly touch, adds a little jump to my step. I’ve always loved the powdery white stuff. Clumping it into balls and building snowmen. My aunt and uncle have snowmobiles, and since my uncle is the owner of Sugar River’s country club, we take the snowmobiles to the golf course and cruise around for hours. Across acres of open space. My aunt’s favorite pastime is to chase my uncle and me around the course. It’s the one time when I really see her let loose. She’s like a whole other person behind the wheel of her snowmobile. Her helmet even says Wild Child along the sides.

I wrap my arms around my light pink jacket. I’ll need to bring my winter coats, boots, hats, and gloves back after break. What I have now soon won’t be enough. Possibly even after today. Because once the snow settles on the wintery Wyoming ground, it’ll stay until late spring.

Ms. Spears’ office is in the Mikesell Building. I’m about to knock on her door when a student bursts out. His face is flushed and he looks like he wants to punch someone. I step back, flustered. He blows past me. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it with that bitch,” he says, his voice a steely whisper.

I blink several times, shocked. But I know he’s right. Since the first day of class she’s made it clear she won’t take any shit.

I peek inside. Ms. Spears is at her desk. Her laptop is open. I knock. She doesn’t look, but says, “Miss Martin. I wondered when you’d show up. Come in.” A cheery smile breaks over her face. It’s too happy. Too sweet. Like thick syrup over pancakes. “Close the door.”

I do. Sick foreboding fills my gut.

“Sit.” She indicates a chair. When I’m situated, she says, “I haven’t seen you in class. What’s going on?” She leans her arms against her desk, waiting expectantly.

I clear my throat, and cross my feet at the ankles. “I was sick,” I say quietly, looking down, hoping that’s enough, but knowing it isn’t.

She doesn’t respond, and I wonder what she’s thinking. I glance up, and she’s staring, her eyes hooded with interest. “You must realize I’m not an idiot. You’re on scholarship, which means you know how to work, to study.” She sighs, leans back in her chair. “But I also remember what it’s like to be a freshman in college. It’s like the world is turned on its head. Everything is shiny and new. At least at first. Soon enough you’ll realize college is cutthroat. Succeeding here will give you a much better chance to succeed in life.” She glances at her computer. Taps some keys. “You have three assignments due immediately. I’ll give you through the break to get them finished and turned in. But you better wow me, and I mean make them spectacular.” She leans forward, her eyebrow raised. “When you think it’s perfect, that’s when you know you’ve just begun.” She nods and leans back, finished. “You may go.” She waves one manicured hand at the door.

I’m in shock. Aside from her little speech, I feel like I got off easy. “Th-thank you, Ms. Spears.”

I place my hand on the doorknob.

“I know what’s going on between you and Mr. Hadley. I hear things.”

My heart stops. Is she saying what I think she is? How can she know what’s going on? That’s private. I’m about to open the door, when she drops the bomb.

“He’s quite remarkable in bed. Knows how to make a woman feel like there’s no one else in the world. But, like his dad, he isn’t good for much else. Be careful.”

I gasp, and turn to her. “What?” It’s all I can get out.

Her arms are crossed, and she has a smirk plastered on her pouty red lips. A wicked gleam in her eyes. “If you repeat what I’ve just told you, I’ll deny it and fail you immediately. No amount of pretty