Sprinting down the hall towards my third block class, cursing my four inch heels as I rounded the corner haphazardly, I shoved my iPod into my bag, "Teardrop" by Massive Attack still blaring. Skidding into my Biology class nearly ten minutes late, I hurried over to my desk where my lab partner, Jessamine Desica, was making quick work of an amphibian dissection.
"Oy, Elli. You're more than a little late today. Have a trite meeting with Codger and Cor?" she asked, smirking. Rolling my eyes, I tugged the hem of my vest down to cover my stomach as I rolled a pair of latex gloves on and picked up a scalpel.
"I quit band today, Jessa. I was talking to Codger about it and he's not thrilled."
"No, I'd imagine not. Bad blood finally come to heat?"
"Hardly. It was more... personal, really." Avoiding Jessa's gaze, I dug too deeply into the vena cava of our specimen, sending plasma flying.
"Ell! Come on; be a little bit more careful!" Jessa hissed, wiping her safety goggles off. "What's going on with you, seriously?"
"Look, I really don't want to talk about it..." I started, before Professor Hassid cut me off with an annoyed clip.
"Miss Reynolds is there something you'd like to pleasure us with?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Nodding quickly, I looked down at my dissection.
"Oy, Elli, I heard you were shagging a teacher. Is it true?" a voice behind me whispered loudly. Blushing, I refused to look up.
"Mr. House, that is quite enough," Professor Hassid spat at the wretched boy behind me.
"Really, you need to learn some kind of decency," House's lab partner, Neil Perry, groaned. Smiling gratefully at Neil over my shoulder, I returned to our experiment. Jessa's face was the color of soured grapes.
"Is Greg, and I can't believe I'm saying this, right?"
"No! Of course not, that's ridiculous." Hiding my blush, I continued to desiccate the frog in front of me.
Teardrop on the fire, feathers on my breath.
"I still can't believe she quit. We're in quite a jam without her," Bam Hansen muttered, rolling a pencil in between his hands. "Rich, doesn't it strike you as odd that she just up and left?"
"Well, she has been under a lot of stress," Rich observed, his heart pounding behind his chest. "Eric will be able to handle the first part." Bam snorted.
"Let's hope so. Midwest won't take lightly to mediocrity."
"She was more than just a good trumpeter."
"I know that. Why do you keep insisting that? Was she more than more than a trumpeter to you?" Bam asked with raised eyebrows. Avoiding his friends gaze, Rich stared out the office window into the hallway where the third block passers were loitering before the minute bell. "She WAS more than a trumpeter. Oh Rich... you're a moron."
"Look, it's over, okay?"
"Have you lost your mind? Honestly, man, she's a student." Rich slammed his fist against the desk, causing Bam to jump.
"Dammit, stop hounding me! I know." Rich breathed heavily, leaning back in his chair, covering his face with his hands.
"I have a class to teach," Bam said on his way out. "Go home. You look terrible, and you're unfit to teach Jazz. Just go." Unwilling to argue, Rich grabbed his bag and stormed out of the band room, pushing through the throngs of kids and out into the swirling black sky, threatening rain and hail.
It took fifteen minutes for Rich to reach his flat from BPS where, sitting on his front porch, was Leonora Reynolds. Sighing, Rich walked up to his house till he was toe to toe with Leo.
"Let's talk," she said, leaving little room for question.