"Criticize the way you fly

When you're soaring through the sky"

I hooked up with my gym teacher. It's not that dramatic technically, he's only five years older. I'm the age of consent in Texas. There's really no problems. Mr Jenkins watches me redress myself.

"Holy shit." He murmurs, staring blankly at his paperwork wondering how he can just go back to filling out forms after that.

"Yeah I get that a lot." I laugh, tying my tie in his laptop reflection. 

"You can't tell anyone." He insists firmly. "Yes sir." I scoff as I pull a lost and found blazer over my shoulders.

"Seriously Hawthorne, this isn't some joke. You can't tell anyone." He raises his voice a little. I almost let myself flinch at his unexpected tone but wouldn't dare let him have that kind of power over me.

"Sure, i won't tell anyone." I assure him. "No friends, no parents, nobody. Especially not those brothers, they'd hunt me down and kill me." He half jokes.

"I have no friends or parents to tell. And my brothers and I don't tell each other that kinda shit." I joke. 

"Fuck. I'm late for third period." Mr Jenkins mutters to himself, gathering the paperwork in a pile and then standing and walking to the door.

"You okay to see yourself out?" He asks, I nod and watch him leave.

And then he's gone. I'm on my own in the office of my teacher who just fucked me.

I grab my gym clothes and shove them into my backpack along with the wet clothes already in there.

The rest of the day goes by painfully slowly, I spend lunch in the bathroom confused about what the fuck just happened. And then I head to my last class of the day, calculus, also known as my worst class. I get by in the other ones with high scores but this is the one that always stumps me.

Sitting in my usual seat, the class is set out pretty weird. A desk of three people rowed up, luckily at the start of the year I scored the only row with nobody on either side of me. 

I watch Avery Kylie Grambs step inside. The teacher instructs her to sit in one of the only spare seat which is beside me. I make my disapproval known and let out a groan as I slouch in my seat. 

"Seriously?" I call out with disgust. "Yes, Miss Hawthorne. 'Seriously'. And we have another new student joining us today. A student who showed promise in a precalculus workshop last month. He should be here any minute now." Mr Harrison announces to the class. 

I let out an audible groan when I see Noah Thatcher walk inside. My little brother's best friend. He's our age. "Welcome Mr Thatcher." Our teacher directs him to the seat beside me. 

When Noah notices me he doesn't look so tense, like he's happy to have a familiar face in this class, even though I know for a fact he knows everyone else too.

"Please make Noah here feel very welcome, it's scary coming into a new class with unfamiliar classmates." Mr Harrison announces. 

"Only scary thing in this class is Spencer's body count." A guy called Michael shouts out from the back, earning some laughs from the rest of the class.

"You didn't seem to mind when I fucked you on your Dallas Cowboy bedsheets last month." I fire back, turning around to watch his cheeks glow red. 

All his friends 'ooh' and tease him. Mr Harrison looks towards me, "Do you think that's appropriate for school?" He warns.

"I mean even in the moment it was hardly X-Rated. He lasted like four seconds, it was barely worth it." I admit to the teacher with a shrug.

Everyone cheers and erupts in laughter at the boy. 

"Enough Miss Hawthorne! I'm under obligation to report that! You're lucky I'm a cool teacher." He points at me with a grin. 

Mr Harrison is most certainly not a cool teacher, he's rather old if I'm honest.

Noah takes a seat beside me awkwardly. 

The teacher gets started with some questions and has us watch as he teaches us about a bunch of formulae and equations. I watch despite not having a clue where any of these letters are coming from. The class that lasts an hour and twenty minutes is seeming to last extra long today as usual. 

"Okay, I know y'all will hate me for this me for this one.. It's pop quiz time." Mr Harrison smirks, passing the papers back to each row. 

"You have 60 minutes, once you're complete sit in silence until I say. When you're all done ima start working on marking them, you're all gonna work on textbook til I'm done and hopefully you'll get the scores back by the end of the class. Answer every question even if you don't know the answer. You can put all your equations and working on the back. And may I remind you all it's not a graded assessment, it's just a pop quiz to help me determine how you're progressing in this class. It's easy, I swear you'll all be fine." He tells us. 

I look down at the small stack of paper before me, searching around my bag for a pen. Fuck, i don't have a pen.

Before I can even express my dilemma, Noah is holding a pen out before me. I look to his face and realise he is barely even paying attention, simple acts of kindness like this come as a second nature to him. 

I give him a small smile and accept the pen gratefully. I scribble my name on the front of the papers and wait to start. The countdown begins and the sound of papers opening echoes the quiet room. 

Question 1) Prove that:    eπ >πe.

I blink down at my page. The question itself is only worth two points, if I skip it that's only like 5%. 

I guess B and move on to the next question. To my dismay the questions progressively get harder and harder. Page long equations that I can't even dream of understanding. The numbers all blend into one, nothing making sense. 

My ears ring and the only sound I can focus on is the obnoxiously loud clicking of the clock. I look up and realise I'm almost out of time. I can feel sweat on my forehead, my heart pounding and my eyes blurring. I feel dizzy. 

In seconds flat I color a bunch of random letters and get to my feet, slamming the paper on his desk and running out of the classroom. 

Once out the class I find myself breathing heavily as I walk down the halls. I send my fist into a locker, resulting in blood spurting out my knuckles and down my wrist, the locker dented a little. 

"Fuck this." I scoff as I walk into the bathroom, I head inside the handicapped stall and use toilet tissue to wipe the blood from my hands. I use the sink in here to wash off excess blood. 

I look in the mirror and brush some hair off my face. 

Hey Spencer, how was your day today? Oh it was very good, I got a dodgeball thrown at me and had a nosebleed. I got my clothes dipped in the pool because everyone hates me. I slept with my gym teacher. I gave up on calculus, punched a locker and I'm now currently bleeding in a handicapped bathroom. How about yours?

I flush the toilet tissue and head back outside. I make my way into class with a sore fist and a headache. 

"Where did you run off to Miss Hawthorne?" My teacher asks nonchalantly. Everyone has already finished the test and have started questions.

"Sorry, I had to use the bathroom." I smile and take my seat again. 

I get started scribbling down nonsense answers to the questions in the textbook that I don't even understand. 

"Hey what happened to your hand?" Noah asks sweetly, gesturing to my bruised hand with crusted blood lining each knuckle. 

I instinctively pull my blazer sleeve over it and go back to working. He brushes it off and realises I don't care much for this conversation. 

I keep answering the questions that I don't understand. That is until the teacher begins handing back test sheets. 19/100. 19%. See me after class. I immediately grab it and place it face down, Mr Harrison gives me a stern look.

"What'd you get?" Noah asks from beside me in a nonchalant voice, staring down at his own paper. 

I peer over to Avery's paper, 88%, outstanding! I shift uncomfortably at the drastic change of message.

"90." I lie, not even sparing a glance for him. 

"That's incredible." He smiles happily. "You?" I cut straight to the chase. "89." Noah answers.

That alone feels like a stab to the chest. He's been here all of one period and he's suddenly a genius. 

"Not bad." I hum, doodling on my page, slumped down in my seat. 

Mr Harrison approaches us and I mistakenly let us make eye contact. "Alright Spencer, as your teacher I'm obliged to ask, is there something going on at home?" He kneels in front of my desk with a sympathetic frown.

I stare at him with judgement. "No." I look to him with confusion.

"Would it be worth referring you to the school councillor? Is there something going on with your own mental health?" He suggests.

"I don't think you're allowed to ask that sir. And for the record, no there is not." I scoff with disgust.

"Listen, your grades are seriously dropping. Not that they were ever that high to begin with." Mr Harrison pushes.

I glance beside me to Avery and then to Noah, he's trying not to listen out of respect but it's hard not to hear every word.

"19% is honestly the worst score I've seen in a pop quiz this easy." He jokes, not earning a laugh at his pathetic excuse for teaching.

I turn to face Noah and catch his eyes, he gives me a sympathetic look clearly upon hearing all this.

I start walking out the class, grabbing my shit on the way out the door. 

Without hesitation I get into my drivers car early and don't even look at him. "Drive." Is all I mutter, trying to withhold the tears desperate to slip out my eyes. 

He does drive, in silence the whole way without complaint. When I get back to my bedroom I kick my shoes off and flop on my bed.

Something crosses over my mind randomly and I grab my phone, searching for my teacher on all socials until I find him on instagram. Anthony Jenkins. @Antjenks99. I do all my digging on my private account so if he decides to follow me back he can see my private life. I send a request for his private account and wait impatiently.

Not even a minute later he accepts my request and sends me one. I count to twenty before accepting so I don't seem desperate but I struggle with how desperate I am by the idea of him following me.

I hit accept and start looking through all of his posts, knowing damn well he's doing the same right now.

His photos are pretty cute, mostly him smiling with friends. One of them is him with wet hair and a wide grin on the beach missing a shirt. My eyes trail down to his very defined v-line.

I receive a DM from him sending me a post of mine. It's one of the photos I took on a trip to Greece I took with my brothers. I'm wearing only a bikini. All he texted was 'damn'.

I can't help but get giddy and laugh a little.

I send him the photo of him back to him, 'damn right back'. He starts typing and suddenly the room is empty, nothing could steal my attention anymore, just those three dots.

'You mind if I use it??' He sends. I swallow and immediately type back, 'don't'.

He starts typing what I'm guessing is an apology but before he can hit send I send my own follow up text, 'let me help'.

His typing seises and I rush to get changed into something a little nicer. Jeans and a cute vest. 

Finally, I do what I was planning on doing. I hit call and wait as it rings.

He answers pretty quickly, behind him is a clean white bedroom. 

"Hey." I whisper lowly with a smirk.

"Hi." He smiles a little. "You sure bout this? What if someone walks in?" He asks me unsurely. 

"My doors locked. Just relax." I speak hoarsely. 

I'm quick to pull my vest over my head, leaving me in only my bra and jeans. "Fuck." He murmurs already. 

He starts jacking off, staring right at me on his phone. 

I talk to him whilst I slowly remove my bra. I let the lingerie slip off my chest and into my lap. His eyes widen at the sight of my bare chest once again.

I hear his whimpers through the speaker of my phone, making me a little turned on. 

"I wish I was there to touch you." He whispers. 

And just like that he jacks himself off and quickly hangs up, leaving me alone and missing a bra.

I hear some commotion by my door and suddenly it snaps open. 

I turn around and grab a blanket from my bedside as quickly as possible.

It's Skye, she doesn't even bat an eye at my partial nudity. "Good evening Cece." She greets with a smile.

She notices the phone propped up on my desk facing my body.

"Taking pictures are we?" She suggests way too calmly. I shake my head insecurely. "Good. I would hope you'd never let someone see you at such an unflattering angle. If you're having video call sex don't sit down or else you'll show off all your belly rolls." She tuts, coming up behind me and finding my bra from the floor.

"Show me your moves." She gestures for me to go on. 

I look at her with raised brows and confusion. "Are you mentally unwell?" I gape.

"We both know the answer to that question. Now show me your moves." Skye smiles.

"I'm not 'showing you my moves' Skye, that's disgusting." I spit with disgust.

"Wear your bra then, I just want to help you." She suggests. 

As I make a move to put the bra back on she watches without even looking away. "Can I help you?" I ask her sarcastically.

"I made those boobs, they're 50% mine." She insists, I turn around and face the wall as I get dressed, I pull the vest over my head and untuck my hair, dismissing her completely.

"Are you still using those special pills I bought you? I just noticed you've been gaining weight recently and wondered if you needed me to pick you up a new batch." She offers with a small smile.

Laxatives. She makes me take laxatives after dinner time each night to get rid of the food I eat. She started me out when I was 14, but I stopped when I was 15. She thinks I still take them but I don't. I can't.

"Yeah. Every day." I nod, lying is okay when it comes to Skye.

"Good girl. Now hurry down, dinner is almost ready." Skye says happily. She wanders out my room without even bothering to close my door, I swing it shut aggressively and readjust myself.

I head downstairs to the dining table, sitting at the kids table quietly. 

"How's school going Spence?" Nash asks conversationally when we start eating. 

I glance up at Avery with worry in my eyes, "What did you say?" I ask her accusingly. "Huh?" She furrows her brows.

"You told them didn't you." I sneer betrayed. She told all my brothers how awful I did on that pop quiz and thats why Nash asked.

"I didn't." She shakes her head, wearing some sort of an understanding for me, like she gets me to an extent.

I look around at my brothers. "Told us what?" Jameson interjects.

I glance back to Avery and drop my aggressive demeanour. 

"Nothing, ass breath." I fire at my brother sharply.

"Is it about that pop quiz?" Xander suggests.

I tilt my head angrily, "Noah told you. That pervy little bitch." I exclaim furiously. "Language!" Nash jabs.

Xander begins rambling to justify his friend, "He said it was just a stupid pop quiz. Nothing important." He shrugs nonchalantly.

"Yeah except it was easy and he got 89% whilst I got 19%." I fire back, taking out my own anger in myself on him.

"You got what?" Jameson starts laughing mockingly. Nash sends him a glare and I send him a hard punch to the shoulder.

"It was a really hard paper, and he's a really harsh teacher." Avery justifies sympathetically.

"Says the girl who got 88%." I roll my eyes.

"Spence you got 19% on a quiz?" Nash interferes disappointedly.

"I wasn't even trying." I lie.

Maybe if I tell them it doesn't matter then it won't. 

I eat dinner in silence for the rest of the night.