Angelfire
Page 1
1
I STARED OUT THE CLASSROOM WINDOW AND longed for freedom, wanting to be anywhere in the world other than gaping up at my economics teacher like the rest of my classmates. The last time I had listened to him, Mr. Meyer had been lecturing about fiscal policy, and that was when he'd lost me. My eyes rol ed over to my best friend, Kate Green, who was doodling intricate flowers al over her notes and looked like she was thoroughly entertaining herself. Meanwhile, I was reduced to staring at the wiry, gray chest hair puffing out at the col ar of Mr. Meyer's polo shirt like overgrown steel wool and wondering whether he'd ever considered waxing.
Final y, after another tedious twenty minutes, the bel rang at two-thirty and I leaped to my feet, instantly energized. Kate stuffed her papers into her notebook and fol owed me up the aisle between the desks. The other seniors and a handful of juniors al filed out swiftly, as if they'd only been given a fivesecond window to escape or they would never get out alive.
"Miss Monroe?" Mr. Meyer cal ed after me just before I left the room.
I turned to Kate. "Your locker in five?"
She nodded and left the room with the rest of the students until I was left alone with our teacher. Mr. Meyer smiled from behind his thick eyeglasses and beckoned me over to his desk.
I took a deep breath, having a pretty good idea of what this discussion might be about. "Yes, sir?"
His smile was warm and friendly, his coarse, gray beard wrinkling around his thin lips. He pushed his glasses back up his nose. "So last week's quiz didn't go so wel , did it?"
I braced myself. "No, sir."
He tilted his head up at me. "Last year in my civics class you were doing very wel , but the last few months of class, your grades began to slip. Since school began this year, they're worsening. I want to see you succeed, El ie."
"I know, Mr. Meyer," I said. Excuses ran through my head. In truth, I was distracted. Distracted by col ege applications. Distracted by my parents' constant fighting. Distracted by the nightmares I experienced every single night. Of course, I wasn't going to talk to my economics teacher about my issues. They weren't any of his business. So I gave him a vague response in return. "I'm sorry. I've been so distracted. There's a lot that's happened in the last year."
He leaned forward, digging his elbows into the cluttered desk. "I understand the senioritis thing. Col ege, friends, Homecoming, boys . . . There are countless things grabbing your attention from every angle. You've got to stay focused on what's real y important."
"I know," I said glumly. "Thank you."
"And I don't mean just schoolwork," he continued. "Life is going to test you in ways it never has before. Don't let your future change the good person you are or make you forget who you are. You're a nice girl, El ie. I've enjoyed having you in my classes."
"Thanks, Mr. Meyer," I said with an honest smile. He sat back in his chair. "This class isn't so hard. I know if you just apply yourself a little more, you'l get through it. My class is nothing compared to what's out there in the real world. I know you can do this."
I nodded, assuming he saved this speech for everyone who got a D on a twenty-question quiz, but he spoke with so much sincerity that I wanted to fal for it. "Thanks for believing in me."
"I don't say this to everyone whose grades start to fal ," he said, as if reading my mind. "I mean it. I believe in you. Just don't forget to believe in yourself, okay?"
I smiled wider. "Thanks. See you tomorrow?"
"I'l be here," he said, rising weakly to his feet. "Your birthday is coming up, right?"
I gave him a puzzled look. "Yeah, how'd you know? Do you want me to bring cupcakes to pass around, or something?"
He laughed. "No, no. Unless you real y want to, I mean, be my guest. But, happy birthday, Miss Monroe."
"Thanks, sir." I smiled and gave him a polite wave before turning away. As I left the classroom, I couldn't help thinking that speech was a little heavy for an economics teacher about to retire to Arizona.
I found Kate by her locker. She frowned at me as I walked up to her.
"What did Meyer want?"
I shrugged. "He wants me to apply myself more."
She smiled. "Wel , I think you're perfect."
"Thanks," I said, laughing. "Are you coming straight over to study for Thursday's math test?"
She shook her head and pul ed her blond hair over one shoulder as she dug her backpack out of her locker. "I'm going tanning first," she said.
"Why? It's September and you stil look like you hang out at the beach al day." I bumped her shoulder with mine and grinned. Her skin was a glorious golden tone, but I stil teased her that she'd end up looking like the other orange Barbie dol s at school if she kept going.
"I'm determined not to get pasty this winter like you always do." Kate was very pretty, and even when she scowled she looked glamorous. She was also almost a head tal er than me, but that wasn't a huge feat. I was a couple of inches shorter than most of the girls my age.
"I'm not pasty." I glanced down at my arm sneakily so she wouldn't notice. I wasn't that pasty.
"This dazzling skin isn't easy to achieve, you know." She stroked her col arbone for effect and laughed.
I stuck my tongue out at her before we moved on to my own locker. I dumped my bio book inside and stuffed my lit materials into my bag to take home. My paper on Hamlet was due the next week, so I needed to get started on it. A thud against the locker next to mine made me look up. Landon Brooks leaned his shoulder against the locker and ran a hand through his professional y highlighted caramel-colored hair. He was one of those guys who thought surfer hair was the only way to go, even here in Michigan, where there is nowhere to surf. In fact, that was how most of the soccer team felt. Landon was my school's star forward, so of course whatever he thought was awesome, everyone else agreed was awesome too. "So what's up with this party Saturday? Is it stil happening?"
I STARED OUT THE CLASSROOM WINDOW AND longed for freedom, wanting to be anywhere in the world other than gaping up at my economics teacher like the rest of my classmates. The last time I had listened to him, Mr. Meyer had been lecturing about fiscal policy, and that was when he'd lost me. My eyes rol ed over to my best friend, Kate Green, who was doodling intricate flowers al over her notes and looked like she was thoroughly entertaining herself. Meanwhile, I was reduced to staring at the wiry, gray chest hair puffing out at the col ar of Mr. Meyer's polo shirt like overgrown steel wool and wondering whether he'd ever considered waxing.
Final y, after another tedious twenty minutes, the bel rang at two-thirty and I leaped to my feet, instantly energized. Kate stuffed her papers into her notebook and fol owed me up the aisle between the desks. The other seniors and a handful of juniors al filed out swiftly, as if they'd only been given a fivesecond window to escape or they would never get out alive.
"Miss Monroe?" Mr. Meyer cal ed after me just before I left the room.
I turned to Kate. "Your locker in five?"
She nodded and left the room with the rest of the students until I was left alone with our teacher. Mr. Meyer smiled from behind his thick eyeglasses and beckoned me over to his desk.
I took a deep breath, having a pretty good idea of what this discussion might be about. "Yes, sir?"
His smile was warm and friendly, his coarse, gray beard wrinkling around his thin lips. He pushed his glasses back up his nose. "So last week's quiz didn't go so wel , did it?"
I braced myself. "No, sir."
He tilted his head up at me. "Last year in my civics class you were doing very wel , but the last few months of class, your grades began to slip. Since school began this year, they're worsening. I want to see you succeed, El ie."
"I know, Mr. Meyer," I said. Excuses ran through my head. In truth, I was distracted. Distracted by col ege applications. Distracted by my parents' constant fighting. Distracted by the nightmares I experienced every single night. Of course, I wasn't going to talk to my economics teacher about my issues. They weren't any of his business. So I gave him a vague response in return. "I'm sorry. I've been so distracted. There's a lot that's happened in the last year."
He leaned forward, digging his elbows into the cluttered desk. "I understand the senioritis thing. Col ege, friends, Homecoming, boys . . . There are countless things grabbing your attention from every angle. You've got to stay focused on what's real y important."
"I know," I said glumly. "Thank you."
"And I don't mean just schoolwork," he continued. "Life is going to test you in ways it never has before. Don't let your future change the good person you are or make you forget who you are. You're a nice girl, El ie. I've enjoyed having you in my classes."
"Thanks, Mr. Meyer," I said with an honest smile. He sat back in his chair. "This class isn't so hard. I know if you just apply yourself a little more, you'l get through it. My class is nothing compared to what's out there in the real world. I know you can do this."
I nodded, assuming he saved this speech for everyone who got a D on a twenty-question quiz, but he spoke with so much sincerity that I wanted to fal for it. "Thanks for believing in me."
"I don't say this to everyone whose grades start to fal ," he said, as if reading my mind. "I mean it. I believe in you. Just don't forget to believe in yourself, okay?"
I smiled wider. "Thanks. See you tomorrow?"
"I'l be here," he said, rising weakly to his feet. "Your birthday is coming up, right?"
I gave him a puzzled look. "Yeah, how'd you know? Do you want me to bring cupcakes to pass around, or something?"
He laughed. "No, no. Unless you real y want to, I mean, be my guest. But, happy birthday, Miss Monroe."
"Thanks, sir." I smiled and gave him a polite wave before turning away. As I left the classroom, I couldn't help thinking that speech was a little heavy for an economics teacher about to retire to Arizona.
I found Kate by her locker. She frowned at me as I walked up to her.
"What did Meyer want?"
I shrugged. "He wants me to apply myself more."
She smiled. "Wel , I think you're perfect."
"Thanks," I said, laughing. "Are you coming straight over to study for Thursday's math test?"
She shook her head and pul ed her blond hair over one shoulder as she dug her backpack out of her locker. "I'm going tanning first," she said.
"Why? It's September and you stil look like you hang out at the beach al day." I bumped her shoulder with mine and grinned. Her skin was a glorious golden tone, but I stil teased her that she'd end up looking like the other orange Barbie dol s at school if she kept going.
"I'm determined not to get pasty this winter like you always do." Kate was very pretty, and even when she scowled she looked glamorous. She was also almost a head tal er than me, but that wasn't a huge feat. I was a couple of inches shorter than most of the girls my age.
"I'm not pasty." I glanced down at my arm sneakily so she wouldn't notice. I wasn't that pasty.
"This dazzling skin isn't easy to achieve, you know." She stroked her col arbone for effect and laughed.
I stuck my tongue out at her before we moved on to my own locker. I dumped my bio book inside and stuffed my lit materials into my bag to take home. My paper on Hamlet was due the next week, so I needed to get started on it. A thud against the locker next to mine made me look up. Landon Brooks leaned his shoulder against the locker and ran a hand through his professional y highlighted caramel-colored hair. He was one of those guys who thought surfer hair was the only way to go, even here in Michigan, where there is nowhere to surf. In fact, that was how most of the soccer team felt. Landon was my school's star forward, so of course whatever he thought was awesome, everyone else agreed was awesome too. "So what's up with this party Saturday? Is it stil happening?"
