the way. At this point it was like he’d given up. Which worked for me. Honestly, I’d been about to ease up on him—I could tell I was pushing him too far, and the last thing I needed was to get in trouble. But that didn’t seem to be an issue anymore.
So it was 7:40 on that Thursday morning when I waltzed into the classroom and crossed right in front of Mr. Ezhno, my shoulder grazing his grade book. I headed toward my seat next to Jillian Orman. I heard the boys in the back row talking about me, saying something sexist but still flattering.
But this time, as opposed to every other time, Mr. Ezhno stopped talking to the class.
His eyes fastened on me.
“Go on.” I raised my eyebrows at him, like I was giving him permission, and then twisted open my Vitaminwater.
“Miss Duke, can you please go wait out in the hall for me?” He sounded tired.
“Already?” Snickers from the class, who appreciated my anticipation of getting in trouble—just not yet.
“But Mr. Ezhno, I bought the flavor that’s supposed to help me focus. I bought it just for your class, Mr. Ezhno.” I raised my drink, tapping lightly on the label where it said Focus.
Most of the people in the class sniggered quietly, waiting for him to come up with something to say.
Instead he just pointed toward the door.
When I looked at him like I didn’t know what he was talking about, he repeated, “Please go wait for me in the hall.”
I sighed theatrically and walked out, making a face at his back as soon as I was past him. A ripple of muffled laughs ran through the class.
As I waited for him in the hall, I watched people passing by. Some were on the way to the bathroom, some were late for class and a few probably had first period as an office assistant. I didn’t know all of their names, but they always seemed to know me. One girl quickened her pace as she drew closer to me, keeping her eyes directed at her feet. She glanced up, and the second our eyes locked, she looked away.
A moment later another girl walked by wearing a T-shirt from last year’s student government election, the faded letters reading Duke for SGA President! The election from which I, sensing more support for my fellow candidates, had withdrawn my name, claiming that it was because I had too many other things to worry about.
The girl (Suzanne?) waved, indicated her T-shirt, pointed at me and smiled. I smiled superficially back and watched her go. My own face smiled at me from the back of the shirt.
Kinda weird to wear that sort of thing post-election.
Others who walked by either waved enthusiastically or did the same as the first girl and tried hard not to look at me. That was how it usually was in my life: People were either overly friendly (possibly obsessive) or painfully shy.
Here’s why. My father was once a promising young superstar in the NFL until one fateful game where he blew out his knee. Being a good-looking favorite, he then rose to fame as a sportscaster. Every man knew him, every boy wanted to be him, every woman and girl stopped crossing the living room when he was on TV just to watch him finish his segment. Including me. Sometimes I saw him more often on my TV than sitting in front of it.
Anyway, his fame made me cool by association. I didn’t need to be head cheerleader (which is good because I never could be), or SGA president (which is what I told myself when I dropped out of the race).
I was a local princess.
I had just looked down the hall to notice one of the few people who had never been fazed by my reputation talking animatedly to a girl I didn’t recognize at all when Mr. Ezhno strode out of the classroom.
“Miss Duke.” He closed the door behind him.
“I know we’ve had this conversation many times before, but you still don’t come in on time and honestly I don’t know what more I can do …”
I stopped listening. He was right; we had had this conversation so many times. He would prattle on about how it was not only disrespectful to him but also to my classmates, and so on, and then try to relate to me by telling me a story from his youth.
I shifted my focus back to the pair I’d been watching before Mr. Ezhno had come out. They were still there in front of the office, Liam talking enthusiastically to the girl I didn’t recognize. She said something that was apparently just hilarious, and he laughed appreciatively.
My chest tightened, the way it always did when I saw Liam. It had been such a long time since he’d ended things, and yet it still broke my heart a little to see him talking to another girl. I strained to hear them, knowing that a hundred yards was definitely out of my earshot. And then I caught the tail end of something Mr. Ezhno was saying.
“… expulsion.”
Wait, what?
I must have misheard.
“Excuse me?” He closed his eyes for a few seconds before responding.
“I said that your repeated insubordination and frequent tardiness haven’t stopped, despite all of our discussions on the matter. I’m going to have to send you to the office, and frankly, after being late so many times—” he raised his hands for a second, in a movement I knew to mean What else can I do? “—the usual punishment is expulsion.”
My dad would kill me. Kill me. This was the kind of thing that had led to him giving me an old car instead of a new one and suspending my credit cards. Every now and then he’d say something embarrassing on the air about how he thought the Giants were a shoo-in, back to you Rob, and he had to get home to his insubordinate daughter.
“Well, frankly, Mr. Ezhno …” I said his name like it was absurd, like he’d asked us to call him “Mr. Snugglekins” or something “.I think that the time we waste having our ‘discussions on the matter—'” I put his words in sarcastic finger quotes “—is a lot more distracting to the class than when I’m late by, like, thirty seconds. I mean, what, do you think that they’re studying in there?” I pointed a finger toward the classroom.
When he kept looking at me, I pursed my lips and nodded, like I was trying to convince him to buy something that looked great on him.
As if.
“Just … take this and go to the office.” He handed me a folded piece of paper. I could see the imprint of some of the words on the reverse side.
I glanced at him and gave him a look that said something like your loss and walked toward the office.
I felt a small drop in my stomach when I saw that Liam and the girl were gone. Fine, there would be no strutting dismissively past them, then.
As I walked down the hall, I read the note.
Miss Duke has been a constant distraction to this class. She comes in late almost every day and is always disruptive during class periods. Does not ask to use restroom, just leaves class whenever she wants to. Consistently talks over me to fellow classmates who are trying to listen.
Ha! Someone had no self-awareness.
…
