Beautiful Torment (2 page)

FIRST DAY

One of the best things about being a senior is you get your very own parking spot. One of the worst things, for me at least, is that I also have to drive Gracie to school. That was one of the stipulations Mom and Dad gave when buying me my beat up silver convertible: Gracie has to come too.

Translation: You are now basically her slave and have to drive her everywhere.

I point her in the direction of her first period class before heading to mine, which is math. Can I just say that no one should be required to do math at 7:30 in the morning? I'll save my opinion on outlawing the subject in general, but seriously, there should be a rule that requires math not be taught until
after
one fully wakes up.

Alas, here I am, in the basement of MTHS, along with the likes of the janitor's closet and weight room, in a makeshift classroom with cold, bland cinder block walls and a small dry erase board, thanks to the school overflowing with too many kids.

I look around the room at all the faces. There are a few classmates I’m friendly with, but not friends with. This is a good thing, as I need to pay as much attention as possible. The first person that stands out is my sophomore year crush. The only thing notable about him is that I haven't had a crush since. He makes a pot joke with the guy behind him and I'm reminded why the attraction there ended quickly, and why no one has interested me since. Every guy my age is just so immature. Not to say that I’m the most mature person either, but most of these guys are just ridiculously juvenile. Call me a goodie two shoes who has never even kissed a guy, and you'd be right on the second half of that statement. Although I may come off as that
terrible phrase no girl ever wants to hear
to some, deep down, I just want to fit in like everyone else. Unfortunately, none of my past crushes have yet to turn into anything more than that, and that’s mostly my fault. I suppose I’m just too shy.

The bell rings and everyone takes a seat before being called up one by one to receive a textbook. The minute Mrs. Stalling hands me the book I feel I’m in way over my head. I’m completely intimidated by the sheer size of the thing.

I take my seat and brace myself as I skim through the first few pages, wondering what would happen if I throw it out the window. That would really start senior year off with a bang: The Girl Who Threw Her Math Book Out The Window. Although, with my luck, I won’t throw it hard enough and it won’t even make it halfway to the pane. Then I’ll be known as The Girl Who
Couldn’t Even
Throw Her Math Book Out The Window.

I laugh at my pathetic attempt at a joke. Don’t judge me, it’s still early.

Just like math, P.E. is another class -
is P.E. even considered a class?
- that simply shouldn't happen before afternoon. My long chestnut brown hair was
just tamed
a few hours ago when I got ready for school. Now I’m expected to mess it up by doing physical activity?

No thank you.

I had Ms. Cassidy for gym freshmen year, and luckily, she’s nice and easy enough. I foresee a lot of walking on the track while she’s busy flirting with Mr. Chevy, and I’m perfectly okay with this.

Thankfully, today, we don’t have to change since it’s the first day, so we sit in the gym and listen to what’s expected of us throughout the year.

Next up is English, and not only do I not know anyone, but I don't even recognize a single face. This is my fault, as I asked to be taken out of honors this year. Call me lazy, but I want an easy senior year, with a lot less stress, and a teacher, whom unlike last year, doesn't hate me.

It's bizarre how the honors kids and non-honors kids don't even know each other. I mean, I can’t even tell you anyone’s name! I really have no idea! We have no association what so ever.

The teacher is young and pretty, and as soon as she writes Ms. Harrington on the blackboard I’m confused. The Ms. makes me think she’s not part of the husband/wife pair I originally thought. In fact, she looks far too young to even be married, let alone to be a teacher.

As she continues talking, I realize she must not have been a teacher here for long. She’s simply far too nice. Truthfully, I can tell I’m going to like her immediately, just by how she’s already handling the smartasses in the class. I mean, some kid actually whistled at her when she turned around!

She lets us know we’re starting with
The Scarlet Letter
, of which I've already read. Twice. I don't know what's better - to breeze by with boredom or to struggle with higher learning? I'm clearly going to have to create my own reading syllabus this year, starting with I think,
War Of Peace
. That's been on my list for a while now. 

I know, you’re probably thinking, who the hell reads
War Of Peace
for fun? Well, this girl does. Maybe now you’ll understand why, while I have a decent amount of friends, it’s tough to fit in.

I wonder how Chloe will feel if I secretly borrow her honors syllabus, just to see what they’re reading?

Next period is Spanish, which is annoying. This is my fifth year taking Spanish (we start during our last year of middle school). As a senior, I’m not required to take it, but I wanted to so I don’t have to take a language in college. You know, college, where I’m going next year, to the still to-be-determined far away school, where I will major in my still to-be-determined major. Ugh!

Mr. Pearl is the head of the language department, so I know this year is going to be tough. He already informs us that today is the last day he wants to hear any English come out of our mouths.

So how do you say
this sucks
in Spanish?

Next, I head back downstairs for social studies, which is an almost an identical scenario as English was, since I dropped honors in this subject as well.

I scan the room briefly, looking for a familiar face. I wasn’t prepared to see one, so I’m excited when I spot Hannah. We met in gym last year and have become friends. I grab a seat next to her and find out she’s also in my public speaking class later this afternoon.

I’m handed a textbook, just like I’ve been given in nearly every class thus far, and I’m already eagerly turning the pages. History is a beautiful thing.

By lunch, all my friends think I misjudged dropping out of honors, because this year in social studies they get a trip to Washington DC. Little do they know I really hate school trips and wouldn’t go, even if I did stick with honors. I have no desire to stay in some seedy, cheap motel and have to follow a schedule, with people I don’t even like. I realize this may come across as a little snobbish, so I’ll move on before you think so little of me.

I'm thrilled with lunch.

There are so many of us that we put two round tables together. That is, until one of the security guards tells us it's a fire hazard and we can't do that. 

Next, I’m back upstairs for study hall because it’s an odd day. Every other day I’ll have lab, followed by chemistry, but today, it’s study hall before chem. This makes every other day my own personal hell. I mean, two hours of chemistry?! At least Ashley and Chloe are in the class with me. Did I also mention that chemistry is
all the way
across the building? I’m dreading having to do that walk from lunch every other day. Sadly, Chloe is in a different study hall, and Ashley has lab, so I head off to study hall solo.

Chloe and I spot each other as we both come down the stairs. We continue together and I’m laughing at a joke she made as we walk into chemistry.

Just as I step through the doorway, I stop dead in my tracks. In fact, Chloe walks right into me, shoving me forward. I nearly trip, which, upon hearing the commotion, causes our teacher to look up from his desk.

My eyes meet his and widen out of pure shock. My face starts to tingle and the air feels tight, like it’s physically shifting around the room. I know my breath is coming quickly, like I can’t get the oxygen in fast enough. I’m going through some outer body experience, because I didn't expect J. Harrington to be so... so....
edible,
hot, sexy
. Ugh, ew… no,
he's a teacher
!

I'll say young. 

I didn’t expect him to be so young.

He looks completely out of place here, far too good-looking to fit in somewhere so
ordinary
. His eyes, a gorgeous crystal blue, widen to match mine, before narrowing, like he’s suddenly
annoyed
. He quickly turns back around to whatever he was in the middle of doing, but I’m still standing in place, gawking.

The side of his face is perfectly chiseled, from his cheekbones to his chin. The corner of his lips form into a tight, hard line, but if they just loosen up slightly they look like they could be almost soft, yet still controlling and powerful. Even his ears are perfectly proportioned! There’s not an imperfection on him. His short, clearly recently cut sideburns bleed up and into a big head of also newly trimmed short, thick, dark hair, itching to be grown back out and set free, as if it’s simply longing to be messy and wild.

“What’s wrong with you?” Chloe snaps, but I’m too stunned to answer, too preoccupied with the God before me, staring at him, gazing, imagining things I shouldn’t be imagining.

I finally force myself to look away and at my surroundings, willing myself not to turn back, to
focus on something else, anything else!

His desk is part of a large wooden platform that elevates him above the rest of us, with a chalkboard attached to the wall directly behind him. To the far side are large windows that overlook the track and tennis courts.

Chloe shoves my shoulder as she walks past, and I shake my head as I follow her deeper into the room, noticing lab tables with equipment in the very back. She settles at a desk in the middle of the room, where all the students who were already here from lab are seated, and I take the seat next to her. In this area, between Mr. Harrington’s desk in the front, and the lab in the back, are normal desks, just like you’d find in any other classroom.

I look his way again.

I can’t help it.

There’s a strange magnetic pull making me, like I’m just some puppet being tugged on with strings, compelling me all on their own.

He was watching me, but turns away the second my eyes meet his. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. The loud buzzing of the overhead projection in the corner of the room suddenly makes itself known. Everything starts to spin. I actually shiver, despite it being rather hot in here, all while haphazardly sitting in some sort of dazed trance that’s directed only at him.

He looks my way again and sweat starts to form on my forehead. It’s me this time that looks down, away, focusing on the curse word etched into my desk.

“So…” Ashley whispers to Chloe. “My sister is friends with his sister. She teachers English here.” The mention of
him
grabs my attention, and I’m suddenly all ears.

So that’s his sister!

Not that it matters.

“She said she doesn’t really know him, but from what she’s heard, he’s sort of a dick,” Ashley pauses, probably looking to make sure he’s not watching as she talks about him. “But most hot guys are,” she laughs quietly.

Guess I’m not the only one who noticed his otherworldly looks.

Ashley and Chloe continue chatting, as I get out my new notebook, too afraid to look up, but too anxious not to, because I just have to see him.

We don’t get to relax in our seats for long, and as soon as the bell rings, Mr. Harrington asks us to all get up. The moment he speaks I’m rendered speechless, almost forgetting how to do something as simple as stand. His voice is manly, deep and smooth, and my stomach is officially summersaulting.

Really, I should detest the fact that he’s assigning seats to high school students, but I don’t. I can’t dislike anything about him, especially because of the way he says my name, so vibrant and with a slight rasp. It happens out of nowhere - the mere sound of his voice causing my nipples to harden, scratching uncomfortably against my bra.

“Luci,” I croak, correcting him with my nickname.

“What’s that?” I know he’s looking directly at me, I can
feel it
, but all I do is stare at the floor, aching to see him face on again. I’m too scared to look up though, not with all the other people watching, fearing everyone will see right through me.

“Um, I go by Luci,” I say a little louder.

“Luci,” he sounds amused.

I start walking to the next seat in the row, since he seems to be going in order, but he stops me.

“Actually Luci,” I look up, finally getting to see his flawless face once more. “Up here,” his arm is extending, pointing to where he wants me.

Front and center.

Some start to snicker, and Chloe mumbles in my ear,
sucks
.