Authors: Clarissa Carlyle
“He’s outside.”
“Outside?” Alex asked, horrified.
“Yes, outside, playing with some guys he knows from school.”
“Seriously? You know the kind of people who live here, right?” Alex scoffed with disapproval. “If you want Andy to be dealing drugs by the time he goes to high school, then great job, he’s heading in the right direction!” Alex clapped her hands in mock applause.
“At least he’s trying to make friends!” Jackie protested. “And you need to stop thinking of it as us and them. We live here now, Alex. We are trailer people too. Start embracing it.”
“I’d rather stick a needle through my eye,” Alex answered coldly.
“Then do that, then.” Jackie sighed. “But please, go get your brother first.”
****
Alex reluctantly retrieved her brother from where he’d been playing basketball with some of the other local boys around his age.
As the family sat together at the long-line dining table, which could be folded out from the kitchen worktop of the trailer, Alex thought of the families in the large, beautiful homes. She doubted they were eating meatloaf like she was. She imagined they were eating something more refined like prawn linguine.
“Quick knocking me!” Andy yelled angrily, delivering a sharp elbow into Alex’s stomach.
“Oww!” Alex almost choked on her dinner. “I can’t help knocking you.” She coughed. “There’s not enough space at this stupid table.”
“Look, I’m going to work in a bit, so I need you two to behave,” Jackie warned. She currently worked two jobs. During the day she cleaned houses; at night she worked at a local gas station. Neither job paid well.
Her children didn’t answer her.
“Andy, have you done your homework?” Jackie asked, her voice sincere.
“Yes, Mom.” Andy’s singsong response implied he was lying.
“Alex, can you check, please? I don’t have time.”
“Fine.” Alex shrugged.
“Have you done your homework?” Jackie continued her interrogation.
“Yep.” Alex was also lying. Her incomplete math homework sat within her backpack, but she had no intention of doing it. A new teacher the next day meant a free pass on homework, at least for the time being.
A coy glance from the head cheerleader was potent currency among the faculty, as Alex had found, and she had no reservations about perverting that system as thoroughly as she could.
****
“Seriously, who schedules math for first period?” Claire moaned in disgust as she slammed her car door shut.
Alex raised her shoulders and tilted her head, unable to provide an answer.
“It’s just a sick joke,” Claire continued. “I mean, my brain hasn’t even woken up yet!”
“Good job you drove to school, then,” Alex joked.
“Driving is easy,” Claire scoffed. “It’s math that’s the problem!”
The two girls walked away from the parking lot and towards the main school building. Despite it being early morning, the sun was already burning down on their backs, an insight of the hot day to come.
Claire was wearing a short denim skirt and vest top while Alex wore a bright pink sundress. It wasn’t her usual style, she’d found it at a local flea market—not that she’d tell anyone that—but she felt it was the sort of dress that a head cheerleader should wear. Coupled with pink nails and long, blonde hair, she fit the part perfectly.
“You’re certainly eye-catching today,” Claire noted as they entered the bustling hallways of the school. Almost every guy who walked past turned briefly to give Alex a once-over. Alex barely even noticed until Claire pointed it out.
“Guys are just predictable.” She shook her head.
“Boys, you mean,” Claire corrected. “What we need is a man. Someone mature and discerning.”
“Who knows his wines?” Alex quipped.
“Yes, exactly!” Claire grinned. “And I hear that our new math teacher is particularly hot,” she added cheekily.
“The morning is looking up for you, then!”
“It certainly is!” Claire beamed.
“Maybe math won’t be so bad after all.”
“It’s still math,” Claire retorted in a deadpan tone. “Brad Pitt could walk in as a sub, but it’d still be math. Math is beyond saving.”
****
When the girls entered the classroom, most students had already arrived, so they gravitated towards two spare desks at the back of the room. The sound of the screeching bell tore through the air before they’d had a chance to sit down.
Oblivious, Claire and Alex began to get out their study books and pens. They failed to notice the angered pair of eyes watching them from the front of the classroom.
“You girls are late,” an unfamiliar voice stated angrily.
Alex glanced to the front of the room in confusion, blushing as she suddenly felt all eyes upon her.
A man in a crisp white shirt and dark denim jeans was staring at her, his dark green eyes squinting in disapproval.
Glancing at the whiteboard behind him, Alex saw that he had written his name, Mr. Simmons. So this was the new math teacher. And he was already mad at her. Great.
“We’re not late,” Alex told him coolly.
“Oh, you’re not?” Mr. Simmons said mockingly, raising an eyebrow at her.
“We were in class when the bell rang,” Alex answered confidently.
“You were in class, but when the bell rings, for the second time, you should be sitting at your desk and ready to work,” Mr. Simmons told her sternly.
“Jeez, first bell, second bell. We are here. Commence teaching!” Alex waved a dismissive hand at him.
Mr. Simmons shook his head in annoyance. “You need to show some respect, Miss…” He paused, prompting Alex to reveal her name.
“Heron. Alex Heron,” she told him begrudgingly.
“Well, Miss Heron, you need to show some respect towards your teachers. But you’ve already wasted enough of my time, so can everyone open their textbooks to page 249.”
Mr. Simmons turned his back to Alex and the class and began to write up their lesson for the day, which involved various algebraic equations. Claire groaned across from her as she saw the variation of numbers and letters appear on the board.
Alex’s color returned to her normal tanned shade, her cheeks kissed golden by her hours spent outside in the sun. She didn’t enjoy being the center of negative attention but knew she had to play her role. An arrogant attitude was all part of the head cheerleader persona.
She glanced absently at the equations on the board and commenced doodling in her notebook. Drawing pictures of scorpions attacking large animate numbers.
A bunched-up scrap of paper landed on Alex’s desk, disturbing her doodling. Alex opened it to see Claire’s familiar handwriting.
He is so hot! Is it bad that I want him to tell me off again? With the addition of spanking? xoxo
Alex held a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle at the bluntness of the note. She shot Claire a quick smirk before throwing the note back to her.
“Are you finished, Miss Heron?” Mr. Simmons asked, leaning against his desk as he watched his students try to solve the problems he’d written up for them.
“Huh, what?” Alex was caught off guard, not realizing that she was being watched.
“I’m guessing you’ve finished the equations on the board or else how would you have time to write a note to your friend?” Mr. Simmons said with that arrogant omnipotence that all teachers have.
Alex sighed. She hadn’t finished. She hadn’t even attempted one of them. She could sense where this was heading, and the last thing she needed was detention. One of the biggest football games of the year was that night, so it was essential she be out there to cheer them on.
“No, I’m not finished,” Alex tried to sound polite and dutiful.
“Then why write notes?” Mr. Simmons enquired with pretend innocence.
Alex gritted her teeth in frustration. Had he not been young once? From the looks of him, not all that long ago. Surely he remembered why people wrote notes in class—to break up the monotony of lessons. Was he so out of touch with his younger self?
“I got distracted. I’m sorry.” Alex tried to maintain her sweet disposition. Next to her, Claire was close to wetting herself with laughter. She clearly hoped that Mr. Simmons would ask Alex to read the note aloud.
“Your friend seems amused,” Mr. Simmons stated.
“She has a warped sense of humor.” Alex shrugged, and a few students close by sniggered at her comment.
“Let me see the note,” Mr. Simmons demanded, stretching an expectant hand out. Alex’s eyes briefly widened in horror, and then she quickly regained her composure.
“You don’t want to do that,” she told him factually.
“I don’t?”
“Nope.” Alex shook her head. She had to admit that Mr. Simmons really was rather hot. He had short, dark hair, pushed forward in the modern style favored by guys lately. He was clean-shaven but with the slight presence of hair that suggested that in two days’ time he would have some sexy designer stubble.
The shirt did little to conceal his impressive physique. Unlike other teachers at Woodsdale, who were as wide as they were tall, Mr. Simmons arguably appeared to be in better shape than half of the school’s football team.
He watched Alex with angry impatience. There was no lustful longing in his eyes, his gaze never drifted to either her breasts or her legs, both of which were teasingly exposed. Mr. Simmons seemed immune to her female allure, which made him a notable adversary and someone Alex couldn’t easily win over with her charm alone. However, she had nothing else in her arsenal that day other than all-out rudeness.
“Why don’t I want to read the note?” Mr. Simmons asked.
“Because it’s of a sexual nature,” Alex answered with surprising honesty, causing most of the class to giggle.
Mr. Simmons, however, remained unmoved, not even flinching at the revelation.
“To read it would make you complicit, and the last thing a new teacher needs is a sex scandal.” Alex kept her voice sickly sweet, hoping to at least infuriate him.
“Detention after all,” Mr. Simmons told her coldly, turning his attention back to the board.
“Who can give me the answer to problem number one?” he asked the class.
“Uh, sir.” Jeff Greenway, at the front of the class, held up his hand, his letterman’s jacket revealing his status on the school’s football team.
“Yes?” Mr. Simmons pointed at Jeff, prompting him to continue speaking.
“You can’t give Alex detention after school,” Jeff said.
“Why can’t I?” Mr. Simmons asked, visibly baffled.
“She’s head cheerleader, and tonight is our big game,” Jeff explained earnestly. “We need her.”
“Head cheerleader.” Mr. Simmons shot an accusing glance at Alex, which made her flinch. “Of course she is.” He sighed. “Miss Heron, how is your social schedule for detention tomorrow night?” he asked her sarcastically. “I’d hate to get off on the wrong foot at the school and leave the football team without their head cheerleader.”
“I’m completely free tomorrow.” Alex smiled falsely at him.