Chapter 5 Smug Teacher

The classroom buzzed with the usual cacophony, punctuated by the occasional airborne book. Whizz—a book flies past！

"Oh, my goodness!" I exclaimed, narrowly avoiding a collision that could have sent me straight to the infirmary. The book would have surely left a mark on my face.

"Sorry, Scarlett." Blake's apology came from over his shoulder, his hands resting nonchalantly on his friends' shoulders. Their laughter knotted together in shared amusement.

Ignoring their antics, I headed to my seat. A glance from Annie met mine before she turned away to whisper to Alex behind her. I paid them no mind.

As I passed by, Alex's precarious stack of books toppled over the aisle of desks.

"Hey! What's your problem?" My surprise was evident as I faced Alex, only to catch Annie biting her pen, offering a smug smile.

Bending down, I reached for the scattered books. But before I could gather them up, someone else's hands intervened, snatching away the book I had just secured.

"It's lucky for you, Alex, that Scarlett wasn't injured. Had she been, you'd share the blame," I heard Stephanie say as she slammed the book onto his desk, nearly clipping his finger in the process.

Annie turned away, feigning ignorance, while Alex appeared rattled, staring at Stephanie perhaps in concern for his finger, or maybe out of fear.

"What are you waiting for? Pick up the books," Stephanie barked, her words initially directed at me until I realized Alex was already halfway to retrieving the fallen items.

Without another word, I left them to their mess.

It wasn't my fault. Suppressing a surge of irritation, I stepped over the books, resisting the urge to kick them aside.

Settling into my seat next to Stephanie provided a slight reprieve from my sour mood. She had a knack for lifting spirits, at least mine. Unlike those who seemed intent on spreading their misery, Stephanie brought a sense of joy.

"Forget that idiot. If he could articulate better, he wouldn't be dubbed 'Garbage Talk Expert'," she advised, brushing off the incident.

"Exactly." I agreed, hanging my backpack on the side hook of my desk and unzipping it.

"Did you catch the latest gossip?" Stephanie leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

Suddenly, her nose wrinkled as if catching a scent. "Oh, my God!" Her eyes widened in alarm, and her lips hurriedly approached my ear. "Are you on drugs?"

"No, not at all!" I protested. "I just ran into some junkies in the bathroom this morning."

Stephanie exhaled in relief. "Good, don't ever let yourself go down that path! Every time I smell weed, I think of Bridget Worm. God rest her soul."

Bridget Worm's story was one of those poignant high school tales. A brilliant student known for her math competition victories, until drugs led her to a tragic end in rehab. Overnight, all trophies bearing her name vanished from the display case.

"What was that gossip you were starting on?"

"Theodore and Penelope break up again?"

I casually mentioned what I knew, digging through my backpack for my literature notebook.

"Please, that's old news." Stephanie rolled her eyes in a familiar 'you're the last to know' expression.

"Someone saw a man in a suit entering the principal's office."

"Uh-huh." I murmured, distractedly searching my bag.

"Hey, get into the gossip spirit!"

"Miss Ewen's in the hospital, so that man might become our substitute teacher. Could be the youngest Wendell High has ever seen."

"Miss Ewen's in the hospital?"

"Oh, come on. She was in a car accident, didn't you hear? The other driver was drunk. It made the news."

"Poor Miss Ewen."

"I don't really read the newspaper."

"Well, what do you use your phone for then? Texting? Calls?"

"Scarlett." Stephanie fixed me with a serious look. "A phone is the fastest way to keep up with gossip these days. There's nothing you can't find online."

"Alright, but I really don't follow that stuff."

"Do you want to live like an old person? Retire early? Sit in a rocking chair soaking up the sun?"

"It's not that serious."

I finally found the loop of my notebook and pulled it out.

"Let's drop it," I suggested.

Stephanie leaned back in her chair, musing, "It's a pity everyone only saw his back. I'm really curious about his looks. Bearded? Tattooed? Or a melancholic hipster with glasses?"

"He's a drunkard!" George, from behind, lifted his head, his voice dramatic.

"George, you really should consider to join in a support group."

"No. Support group is a scam! They circle you up for secret religious rituals."

"See, you're beyond help," Stephanie sighed, turning back to me. "I just hope he doesn't assign too much homework. Last semester's reading report nearly drove me insane! I watched the TV adaptation of 'Great Expectations' four times, not counting other versions! I could see 'Estella' when I looked in the mirror. And all for a B-."

"You can't learn from a TV show, Stephanie."

"I know. But that book has 755 pages! It's a form of 'slow' murder."

"So, Miss Ewen won't be teaching this term?"

"Don't know, hopefully. But who knows what kind of trouble a young teacher might bring?"

The footsteps behind us abruptly ceased.

"Maybe you should tell me."

Stephanie and I shivered at the unfamiliar male voice from behind—

"What's your name?"

"Ah... Stephanie Watson..."

Stephanie remained still, locked in a gaze with the new teacher.

Then, he turned his attention to me.

For a moment, his expression hardened, his brows furrowed.

Perhaps in less than a second, his eyes swept over the classroom, observing his future workplace and the high school chaos...

The new teacher strode to the podium, tossing the files in his hand onto the desk with a thud. Although it barely made an impact, most girls in the classroom sent curious glances his way.

"What kind of teacher enters through the back door? His footsteps are nearly cat-like."

Stephanie whispered to me as the new teacher busied himself with writing his name on the board.

"At least no one will leave as much bizarre homework as she did."

"My rules are few. Just adhere to classroom discipline and complete assignments on time. Late submissions get zero points, and plagiarism leads straight to the principal's office. And one more thing—"

He turned his gaze to me.

"Come to class with a clear mind."

I puzzled over whether his words were directed at me or if he was actually looking past me at George?

Alex leaped from his seat, grabbing his backpack and dashing out of the classroom.

"Good, someone has made a choice. Anyone else?"

Two more boys slung their backpacks over their shoulders and left the classroom. Not surprising, as they were always playing Candy Crush in the back row during class.

The classroom fell silent for a moment. No one stood up, no one spoke, even George sobered up from his "drunkenness." Compared to Miss Ewen's class, it was a different world.

After a while, the teacher straightened up.

His back leaning against the desk on the podium.

"My name is Taylor Wildson. But I prefer you call me Taylor."

"If I can't survive this week, I'll head to the administration office myself! It won't count towards the final grade anyway, so Dad has no grounds to complain. Ah, but what else do I know besides literature?"

Stephanie and I glanced towards the open door of the literature class. A group of girls surrounded Taylor.

"It's easy to be popular nowadays, just have a pretty face."

People are always drawn to beautiful things.

I thought of Kyle—the boy I had secretly adored for two whole years. During a summer filled with breezy evenings, cricket songs, and pool parties, he sat quietly on an outdoor seat, engrossed in 'Faust.'

His handsome looks

That was the first time I felt love. I felt a power inside me, longing to emerge, to draw me closer to him.

That was the first time I felt love. I felt a force inside me, longing to break free, pushing me forward, closer to him.

The nervousness and caution as I approached him—

If it weren't for his handsome appearance, he wouldn't have caught my eye. If someone else were sitting in the library reading, it wouldn't have attracted my attention. Later, as my dreams shattered—when I was curled up in bed, sobbing through the night, I began to question what exactly I liked about him? His appearance? Or his soul?

"Scarlett!"

Stephanie's grip on my arm pulled me back from my daydream.

"Were you spacing out? Those crazy girls nearly bumped into you."

Then, another voice reached me.

"Scarlett, come to my office."

I snapped to attention, seeing Taylor standing at the door of the literature class.

"Stephanie, see you in the cafeteria."

"Okay, our usual spot."

Stephanie eyed Taylor warily for a moment, her hand gripping my arm tightly.

Taylor watched Stephanie calmly, his eyes signaling her to leave.

"Alright, but don't be too late."

Stephanie released me, smiling and bidding me goodbye, treating Taylor as if he were invisible.