When the bell rang, Mr. Jacobs rose slowly, his gaze fixed on me. He circled his desk, leaning against the front, hands pressed against the polished wood. A wide smile stretched across his face, and our eyes locked again. A flush crept up my cheeks.
“Welcome back, students!” His voice resonated with a quiet authority. “I’m Mr. Jacobs, your chemistry teacher this year. Mr. Hart retired last year. Now, let’s go around the room. Each of you, tell me your name and a little about yourself.” He turned to a student near him, initiating the process.
As names and brief stories were offered, I deliberately avoided Mr. Jacobs’ gaze.
“Young lady, in the back corner?” He turned his attention to me, his smile now edged with a knowing smirk. I glanced around the room before forcing myself to meet his eyes, determined to appear unfazed.
“My name is Ashton Niko. I’m eighteen and just moved here.” My voice was steady, measured. I willed my hands not to tremble.
“Isn’t Ashton a boy’s name?” Two girls chirped in unison, their voices dripping with saccharine sweetness. A ripple of laughter spread through the class. I met the girls’ eyes, their smirks mirroring each other.
“Charlie, Dakota!” Mr. Jacobs interjected, his voice sharp. “Ashton is a common name for girls, but I’ve heard more boys named Charlie and Dakota than boys named Ashton.” He winked at me, a subtle gesture of support. The two girls – Charlie and Dakota, I now registered – stared at him in shock. I allowed a small chuckle to escape, and they glared back. I returned the look, then reached for my notebook, beginning to transcribe the notes Mr. Jacobs was writing on the board.
A sharp jab to my side startled me. I turned to see a ruggedly handsome boy with dark hair leaning towards me.
“Hey, don’t worry about them,” he murmured, his voice low. “They think they own the place because their dads are rich and two of the most important men around here. Sweetheart, they haven’t got anything on you.” He winked, and I rolled my eyes, pointedly ignoring him.
“I’m just trying to make conversation,” he pressed, undeterred.
“By hitting on me? So original,” I muttered, resuming my note-taking. I glanced up to find Mr. Jacobs still watching me, then his gaze shifted to the boy beside me.
“Brandon Walker! Is there something you need to share with the class?” His tone was stern, his eyes fixed on the boy. I almost felt a pang of sympathy, watching Brandon collect himself.
“Well, Mr. Jacobs,” he began dramatically, covering his heart with a flourish, “I was just saying how beautiful our new classmate is. She’s so beautiful, I’m at a loss for words!”
Mr. Jacobs’ lips quirked in a wry smile. “Well, Brandon, she *is* quite extravagant. But please, do pay attention.”
A wave of heat washed over my cheeks as all eyes turned to me. I received the usual appraising glances from the boys, and even some girls offered admiring smiles, though most glared with open hostility. I masked my embarrassment with a smirk and returned to my work. I noticed Brandon watching me, and I deliberately ignored him.
By the time the bell rang, I’d filled three pages with notes, adding my own side comments disputing the teacher’s assertions. I wasn’t a slacker; I never earned less than an A. That’s why people at my old school hated me – beyond the usual whispers about me stealing their boyfriends, I was on track to be valedictorian. It all started after I began fighting back.
But I hadn’t always been this way. Once, I’d had someone. His name was Marcus. He was always sweet, making me feel safe and beautiful, but he was also making *others* feel the same way. He had hazel eyes and a perfect smile, blond hair streaked with red. He was one of the rich kids. One day, I went to his house to study. His mother told me to go on up to his room after I told her he was expecting me. When I got outside the door, I heard noises but didn't think anything until I opened the door and found Marcus on top of my only friend in school. He was driving it in her like his life depended on it. It didn't hurt me though, not one bit actually.
I stood there and waited till the bed was soaked from their sweat and they were both gasping for air before I done anything. When they both finally noticed me sitting there I laughed. They looked at me in shock as if I wasn't supposed to be there.
Ash what are you doing here?
Ash it's not what it looks like, Marcus is just my friend..
Then I walked out still laughing, and that's when the rumors began. Everyone began saying I stole marcus from my friend. Then they would say I was stealing everyone's boyfriends. Some even said I was pregnant. Yea that one was hilarious, I must be the virgin Mary.
“Mrs. Niko,” Mr. Jacobs said, his voice suddenly sharp. “May I speak with you for a moment?”
“Yes sir, what did you need?”
“How old do you think I am? And call me Cole, please.” He smiled, and I instinctively averted my gaze. His question was unexpected, unsettling.
“Um, you look like you could be between twenty and twenty-five, Cole.”
“Well, well, well. You’re good. I am twenty-three, and how old are *you*, Ashton?” He said my name slowly, savoring it like a fine wine. I gulped, feeling a flush creep up my neck.
“I-I’m eighteen.”
“Hmm. Don’t be late to your class, Ashton.” He winked, turning away.