him.
I was happy I had left my hair down.
I could feel his body behind me. My ears acutely tuned in to him as he leaned over and pulled his notebook out of his bag. He clicked his pen, scribbled down a date, and leaned back in his chair.
Dear God, I had to endure this for an entire year?!
âAlright then, howâd you guys do on the assignment I gave you last night?â Mr. Simmons asked the class.
I wanted to laugh hysterically.
This had to be some kind of a sick joke.
âI want to make sure we get through everyone today, so Iâd like to get started. I canât wait to see how descriptive you all were. So for those of us who were not here yesterday,â he smiled at Devilyn, âI wanted you to write a brief paragraph about your day detailing one moment which bothered you or upset you the most. I also wanted you to incorporate elements of a position paper. In that your writing should illustrate your taking a stance against this problem or issue you faced yesterday. I have a feeling this is going to be really entertaining.â
I was starting to sweat. Soon Iâd be hyperventilating. I started to rub the back of my neck but immediately stopped when I realized that he was sitting behind me, no doubt watching my every move.
Entertaining? Yes, this would definitely be entertaining.
âWho wants to go first?â Mr. Simmons asked as he anxiously looked around.
As expected, not one hand went up. Mr. Simmons actually smiled at that in amusement, and then he looked straight at me. Oh my God.
âCaroline, I think youâre up.â He winked at me. The odious man actually winked at me thinking that I wanted to go first. All eyes turned to me, their gazes filled with pity. And if I had to guess, Iâd bet he was looking as well.
âReally?â I squeaked out. Yes, squeaked. Since when had I become a squeaker?
Mr. Simmons laughed.
âSince when did you become so shy about your writing?â Mr. Simmons said smiling as he took a seat in the front desk facing the small classroom. âThatâs a first for you.â
If you only knew, I thought miserably to myself. I got up as slowly as possible, grabbed my pages, and took the ten or so steps to the front of the classroom.
Unfortunately, it didnât take too long to get there. I didnât look up. In fact, it was the first time in my life that I kept my head down when reading something I wrote.
âUmm,â I began slowly.
Since when had âumâ become a part of my vocabulary? When did that start? Itâs all because of him , my mind snarled at me, heâs ruining you!
âWe donât have all day, Caroline,â Mr. Simmons said as he tried to move me along, clearly not understanding my anxiety.
I tried to smile, but I couldnât. So I just sucked it up and started the monologue of hate.
âYesterday I came across one of the most self-obsessed, arrogant, over-hyped individuals Iâd ever met in my life.â Yes, thatâs the way I began my speech. That was the great descriptive starter line.
âIt is baffling to me how some men and women are born to believe that they are better than others. Is it the way they are raised? Or is it the way of the world? Why do we continue to give undeserving individuals titles, like President, Manager, Team Captain, and Quarterback, and then watch passively as they use their status to treat others with disrespect.â
My fingers were trembling. I dared not look up when I posed that question.
âLast night I was the victim of one personâs wrath. A person, who perhaps may have at one point received my respect, but now is only deserving of my disregard. Initially, I made excuses for his dismissive behavior. Perhaps he does not have a strong command of the English language, I thought. But then I realized there is no excuse to treat anyone as anything less than an equal.
âAs we know, some of us are born genetically blessed: some
Learning to Kill: Stories