Young Girl

Chapter Two

Max

"Hey, Max, do you think that teacher was hot?" my best friend, Monique Higgins, a.k.a Nudge, asked in the hallway after English class with Mr. King.

"Who? King?" I asked, switching my books out in my locker from my English 12 book to my Biology and Civics books and slamming my locker shut.

"Yeah. I mean, sure he's about eleven years older than us, but he's still smokin'!" Nudge cooed, looking back at Mr. King's classroom.

"I mean, he's not completely unpleasant to look at, but I wouldn't say he's drop dead gorgeous," I answered, muttering to myself, "Maybe just 'drop dead'."

Mr. King already wasn't my favorite teacher. He called me 'Blondie'. I'm not even a freaking blonde! I'm blonde with a ton of other colors streaking through my hair! And I could already tell I was going to be the one student he picks on for the rest of the year. Every teacher I've ever had always picked on one student in the class for the entire year, and I guess I'm Mr. King's choice. Woo-hoo!

"Max! That's so mean! He seemed like a nice guy! And plus, he's twenty-eight and not even married! That's upsetting! I wanna be married by then!" Nudge squealed, running off to her next class, which was in the complete opposite direction from mine. Thank, goodness.

I looked down at my five subject notebook in my hand and noticed my notes from Mr. King's class weren't there. Alright, they weren't notes. They were doodles about how much I hated that class, and if Mr. King saw them, he'd definitely give me detention.

I ran to his class and knocked on the door, noticing he was sitting at his desk, his long black hair draping down in his face.

"Mr. King, did you happen to find my notes from earlier?" I asked, worried he'd seen them.

"Yeah, Max. I did. You hate me that much? You've known me for forty-five minutes." he sighed, standing up, a balled up piece of paper in his hand.

"I hate all of my teachers." was my reply.

"Why though?"

"Why not? They don't care about me. I'm just another face they see every day. I'm no more important to my teachers than the person sitting next to me." I replied, truthfully.

"I care about all of my students. I know I said it in class, but if you ever need anything, academic or non, you can come talk to me. I will never disclose anything my students tell me unless I have to. If you're telling me you're going to kill yourself or hurt someone else, then I have to tell someone, but otherwise, nothing my students say leaves my mouth again. I want my students to feel like I'm someone they can come talk to when they need to."

"Do you extend the same courtesy to me?"

"Of course. And if you're implying that you need someone to talk to, you can come talk to me in detention tomorrow." Mr. King winked, tossing me the balled up paper.

"No, thanks. Well, no thanks to the talking, but I guess I don't have a choice about the detention." I said, skillfully catching the paper.

"Nope."

Mr. King let out a laugh as the bell for class rang through the speakers.

"Need a pass for your next class?" Mr. King asked.

I nodded and followed him over to his desk.

"By the way, Max, I saw on the front of that notebook of yours that you've written out band names... You've got good taste in music. That and I think you were born a little too late for your music taste."

I laughed and glanced down at my notebook. Bands like AC/DC, The White Stripes, Led Zeplin, Def Leopard, The Ramones, Quiet Riot, The Clash, The Runaways, Metallica, The Beetles, and Guns N' Roses covered the front of my notebook.

"Thanks. My mom didn't believe in all the bullshit that's out now. She thought it was a waste of time, so when everyone was learning every word to Justin Timberlake and Hilary Duff songs, I was learning the words to 'Sweet Child O'Mine' and 'Enter Sandman'."

"Well, your mom sounds interesting."

"She was. She was."

"Was?"

"She died last December."

"Oh, well, I'm sorry to hear that."

I nodded and waited for Mr. King to finish writing out my pass before I started to leave.

"Hey, Max?" he asked.

I spun around on my heels and turned back to him, "Yeah?"

"Why'd you say you hated teachers, again?"

"If I may, I'd like to reference to my favorite movie, 'You see us as you want to see us: in the simplest terms, and the most convenient definitions'. We're just students to you."

He looked stunned.

"If you've never seen The Breakfast Club, I will come back here tomorrow in detention and soundly kick your ass." I assured him, laughing slightly at his stunnedness.

"I have, I just didn't expect you to have."

"It's my favorite movie."

"Gives me hope that not everyone in this generation has lost all respect for amazing movies like that." Mr. King laughed.

"Not everyone. There's still me!"

"Glad to hear. Get to class, Ms. Ride."

I nodded and left the classroom, yelling, "The next time I have to come in here, I'm crackin' skulls!" imitating Mr. Vernon from The Breakfast Club.

I heard him laughing as I left, scurrying to my next class.

Hope you enjoyed again. :D

xoxo,

K.J