Chapter 51: Homeroom
*I always had a teacher fantasy. – Cade*
Homeroom.
Who still had homeroom? No matter, Evie did not have to have a lesson plan. She just had to keep 35 teenagers from killing each other for just over an hour. Maybe a lesson plan would be needed, she thought with a wry smile to herself. The bell rang and she stood up from her desk. Most of the students quieted down and it made it easier for her hear the conversation at the back of the room.
“What’s it like growing up in a house with a pervert for a dad?” the cheerleader was asking the black-haired girl. “Are you just as fucked up in the head as your perverted father?”
Evie leaned against the front of her desk and watched the back corner. She saw some of the kids looking at her to do something. She held up a single well manicured finger and continued to give the group her attention.
“Megan.” One of the other cheerleaders hissed. “The teacher.”
“What about her?” the first girl said with a flip of her hair. “She can’t do anything. It’s just homeroom.”
“Actually, she can.” Evie said with a smile. “But since you are above everyone else, you will not be punished for your rudeness. I will allow your classmates to deal with you. The rest of you, will need to turn in a three-page paper over the topic of Miss Walter’s choice.”
“Polygamy.” The cheerleader said with a sneer.
The class groaned.
“I do like that choice. We may have to circle back to it at some point.” Evie said. “Now, as long as everyone in this room turns in a paper, no less than three pages, by the end of the period, everyone, including Miss Walter, will get a 100.”
She smiled sweetly at the cheerleader bully. “As long as I receive a piece of paper with a name on it, that person will receive a 100. Excluding Miss Walter. The only way that she will receive a 100 is if everyone else turns in a full single space three page paper.”
“You can’t do that!” she wailed.
“There you go again, telling me what I can and can’t do.”
“That’s bullying!”
“I’m glad that you can suddenly recognize it.” Evie said flatly. “Now, if you would please come sit in this empty desk up here.” She pointed to the desk right in front of her.
“My friends-"
“May stay exactly where they are.” She pointed at the desk again. With a huff, the girl grabbed her bag and stomped to the desk. She sat down, throwing her bag on the ground and glaring at the new teacher.
“I do not like assigned seats. You are young adults and most of you do know how to conduct yourself.” Evie looked pointedly at the girl. “I have very few rules, but I do have severe consequences. I will not tolerate bullying. This class is to help you, and you do still get a grade for it. Any action of being a bully and you will receive a zero for the day.”
“Some of you I have already had in class and others I will have this afternoon. I have no lesson plan for this class, please do not make me have to create one. I have no problems with using this time to discuss anything that you wish. Anything. No topic is off limits, as of right now.”
A dark-skinned boy in the back raised his hand.
“I have not had you yet. Can I get your name along with your question?”
“Tyrus Williams.” He grinned. “What are your other rules?”
“Smart man.” Evie said with a smile. “Respect. You will respect everyone in this room. Your fellow classmates, myself and most importantly, yourself. I am not going to tell you to watch your language, by this age you should know that certain words belong in specific times and places. My classroom typically is neither. There are times that it may be considered appropriate. Anyone else have any questions?”
“Is it Miss or Mrs. Reagan?” a boy, no a young man, asked. She was certain that he was on the football team. His six foot plus frame was bulging with muscles. The tight gray t-shirt sleeves barely covering tattoos on his upper arms. His legs stuck out in both aisles and were clad in faded denim and motorcycle boots. He had inky black hair emerald green eyes set beneath impressive eyebrows that were raised in anticipation. Even with the scruff on his face she could see the grin under a slightly crooked nose.
“I am a widow. But I prefer Miss Reagan.
“I’m sorry.” The manchild said sincerely.
“Thank you.” She replied, fighting back tears. “Can I get your name?”
“Marcus Humphrey. Everyone calls me Little Marc.”
“Thank you, Mr. Humphrey.”
“Miss Reagan, where are you from?” a soft-spoken blonde girl asked. She was a little thing, barely over five feet and skinny. Not healthy skinny either. Her collar bones were visible under her oversized t-shirt. Her skinny jeans barely clung to her hips and her tennis shoes were worn thin. Her chocolate eyes were flat with no emotion and her face was drawn. Her lips were so pale that they blended into her alabaster skin.
“I’m sorry, Miss?” Evie prodded.
“Michelle Martin.” Came the flat reply.
“Miss Martin, I'm from Austin. And my family proudly tries to keep Austin weird. If you ever get a chance to go, you must go to sixth street. I can also tell you some great taco places.”
There were additional questions and a few other discussions before the alarm on her phone chimed. “That’s class. Everyone turn in your paper in to the basket by the door. Go enjoy lunch, have a great afternoon and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
A few had already scribbled their name on a piece of paper. The rest did so quickly, just before the bell rang dismissing them. With the gathering of books and bags, the students rushed out when the bell sounded.
“I’m going to tell coach about you giving me a zero.”
“Please do.” Evie advised. “And make sure that you tell her about your actions that led to you earning a zero.” She continued to smile as the girl stomped out.
“She’s not used to not getting her way.” The oversized male in front of her said.
“I got that impression.” She agreed. “Mr. Humphrey, what do you know about Miss Martin?”
He sighed. “Her home life sucks fucking bad. Calling the authorities only makes it worse. I haven’t seen her look this bad before. We’ll take care of it.”
“We?” she asked.
“The Saints. Thanks for what you did for Priss. She’s a sweet girl. Megan is just a bitch.”
“I got that impression, also.” Evie smiled as the phone behind her buzzed a message from her brother. “You better get to lunch.”
His eyes fell on the phone that was face up on her desk and he smiled. Leaning in close to her ear, he whispered, “Don’t know who sent you the message. But they are right.” He straightened and adjusted himself, not bothering to hide his actions, and then walked out of her classroom.
Evie sat down behind her desk and picked up her phone. When she opened the message, it simply read ‘You know at least one of your students will jack off thinking about you. Have a good first day. Will call you when I can.’
Although Evie had dealt with crushes before, it had never been from someone as grown as Little Marc. That boy was already all man. She would have to be careful around him.
