All right everyone, this is my first fic, so don't get mad at me if it's
not great!
CHAPTER ONE: The Three Hotties
It was the first day of seventh grade for Elizabeth Duck. She looked at her locker mirror to make sure her reddish-brown wavy hair looked perfect, and then proceeded to her first class: Math. On her way, her two best friends Chrissie and Melanie flanked her.
"Omigod, Lizzie, you have to see The Three Hotties," Chrissie said, snapping a piece of Big Red in Lizzie's face.
"'The Three Hotties?'" Lizzie repeated, distracted with her blouse, the one her father (the mayor of their town) insisted she wore for the first day of school. It was cutting off the air in her lungs, and she couldn't breathe.
"Omigod, Lizzie, the new teachers," said Melanie, trying and failing to snap a piece of Carefree in the way Chrissie snapped her gum. Spit flew at Lizzie's face. "Math, Home Ec, and Wood Shop. You got those?"
Lizzie checked her schedule, even though she could care less about the three hotties. "Yes," she sighed. "Unfortunately."
"UNFORTUNATELY?!" Melanie and Chrissie screeched. "You idiot! How could having The Three Hotties as teachers be UNFORTUNATE?!"
Fortunately, the two of Lizzie's so-called best friends had a different schedule than she did, so they veered down another hallway, gossiping, as Lizzie walked into Math class and took a seat.
Glancing up at her teacher, she gasped. He WAS pretty good-looking. His name, Mr. Doorington, was written on the dry-erase board. But as she took out her notebook and started doodling pirate ships on a blank page and he droned on and on, she sooner discovered that this class was going to be extremely dull. She zoned out so much that she didn't notice him glaring down at her.
"Miss Duck, is it?" he said in a voice that seemed vaguely familiar. "Well, there will be no drawing whilst I am talking. Much less pirate ships. Are you aware that that promotes crime on the high seas?"
"I-I." she stuttered.
He nodded. "Didn't think so."
So it was with a heavy heart that Lizzie trudged to Wood Shop, her next class. Maybe the "Second Hottie" would be nicer. Once again, she walked in. Once again, she took her seat. And once again, the teacher, a Mr. Bill Burner, was cute. But unlike Mr. Doorington, he wasn't just cute. He was hot beyond reason. And, like with Doorington, he seemed familiar, but unlike Doorington, he didn't seem just like a lost memory. Trying to remember Mr. Burner was like trying to remember her own name, whereas Doorington was just one of those things lost the crushing black oblivion of time.
"Hello," Mr. Burner greeted, not looking up from his desk. "Time for attendance." He proceeded to perform the task of roll call. Finally he reached the D's. "Dodo, Bird; Doodoo, Deep Doggy; Duck, Elizabeth." At Lizzie's name he stopped. "Elizabeth." Lizzie could see a memory stirring behind his eyes. Once he looked at her, sentimentality flooded his face. "Elizabeth Duck." His fingers subconsciously reached for a swinging gold pendant around his neck. When a flash of sunlight caught it, Lizzie saw the design on it: a skull and crossbones.
A moment passed, and then Mr. Burner was himself again. "Well, Elizabeth," he said in that voice of a memory, "do you like to be called Liz? Or Lizzie?"
"Lizzie," Lizzie said, mystified.
"All right, Lizzie," Mr. Burner said. He finished up the roll call, slammed the attendance book shut, and started addressing the class. "Well, class," he said, flipping around his pen like a fencing sword, "welcome to Wood Shop. I am your teacher, Mr. Bill Burner-"
Suddenly, the teacher's melodious voice was cut off by a startling, unexpected knock on the door. For the rest of the class, it signified a visitor. For Lizzie and Bill, it symbolized the intruder of a memory.
CHAPTER ONE: The Three Hotties
It was the first day of seventh grade for Elizabeth Duck. She looked at her locker mirror to make sure her reddish-brown wavy hair looked perfect, and then proceeded to her first class: Math. On her way, her two best friends Chrissie and Melanie flanked her.
"Omigod, Lizzie, you have to see The Three Hotties," Chrissie said, snapping a piece of Big Red in Lizzie's face.
"'The Three Hotties?'" Lizzie repeated, distracted with her blouse, the one her father (the mayor of their town) insisted she wore for the first day of school. It was cutting off the air in her lungs, and she couldn't breathe.
"Omigod, Lizzie, the new teachers," said Melanie, trying and failing to snap a piece of Carefree in the way Chrissie snapped her gum. Spit flew at Lizzie's face. "Math, Home Ec, and Wood Shop. You got those?"
Lizzie checked her schedule, even though she could care less about the three hotties. "Yes," she sighed. "Unfortunately."
"UNFORTUNATELY?!" Melanie and Chrissie screeched. "You idiot! How could having The Three Hotties as teachers be UNFORTUNATE?!"
Fortunately, the two of Lizzie's so-called best friends had a different schedule than she did, so they veered down another hallway, gossiping, as Lizzie walked into Math class and took a seat.
Glancing up at her teacher, she gasped. He WAS pretty good-looking. His name, Mr. Doorington, was written on the dry-erase board. But as she took out her notebook and started doodling pirate ships on a blank page and he droned on and on, she sooner discovered that this class was going to be extremely dull. She zoned out so much that she didn't notice him glaring down at her.
"Miss Duck, is it?" he said in a voice that seemed vaguely familiar. "Well, there will be no drawing whilst I am talking. Much less pirate ships. Are you aware that that promotes crime on the high seas?"
"I-I." she stuttered.
He nodded. "Didn't think so."
So it was with a heavy heart that Lizzie trudged to Wood Shop, her next class. Maybe the "Second Hottie" would be nicer. Once again, she walked in. Once again, she took her seat. And once again, the teacher, a Mr. Bill Burner, was cute. But unlike Mr. Doorington, he wasn't just cute. He was hot beyond reason. And, like with Doorington, he seemed familiar, but unlike Doorington, he didn't seem just like a lost memory. Trying to remember Mr. Burner was like trying to remember her own name, whereas Doorington was just one of those things lost the crushing black oblivion of time.
"Hello," Mr. Burner greeted, not looking up from his desk. "Time for attendance." He proceeded to perform the task of roll call. Finally he reached the D's. "Dodo, Bird; Doodoo, Deep Doggy; Duck, Elizabeth." At Lizzie's name he stopped. "Elizabeth." Lizzie could see a memory stirring behind his eyes. Once he looked at her, sentimentality flooded his face. "Elizabeth Duck." His fingers subconsciously reached for a swinging gold pendant around his neck. When a flash of sunlight caught it, Lizzie saw the design on it: a skull and crossbones.
A moment passed, and then Mr. Burner was himself again. "Well, Elizabeth," he said in that voice of a memory, "do you like to be called Liz? Or Lizzie?"
"Lizzie," Lizzie said, mystified.
"All right, Lizzie," Mr. Burner said. He finished up the roll call, slammed the attendance book shut, and started addressing the class. "Well, class," he said, flipping around his pen like a fencing sword, "welcome to Wood Shop. I am your teacher, Mr. Bill Burner-"
Suddenly, the teacher's melodious voice was cut off by a startling, unexpected knock on the door. For the rest of the class, it signified a visitor. For Lizzie and Bill, it symbolized the intruder of a memory.