Two weeks later, Mr. Michaelis began the class by slapping an essay on each of our desks. He'd managed to grade 43 essays in less than 24 hours, and they weren't short essays, either. I was pretty impressed.

To my left, Ellis frowned. "A 70 percent? I made a B+ on every essay I wrote last year, and I didn't try half as hard as I did on this one." English was one of Ellis' better subjects. He'd even helped me out with it a couple of times last year. Mr. Michaelis must have been a very harsh grader.

I was a little nervous to see what grade I'd gotten, but I managed to be brave and flip my paper over to see the score. To my surprise, a big 100 was written at the top of the page. Underneath, in glaring red ink, Mr. Michaelis had written this note:

I told you not to disappoint me, and you certainly haven't. Your perspective was refreshing… I look forward to reading more of your work this year.

Ellis whistled, having read the note over my shoulder. "Wow, you did great, Adrianne. I knew you had it in you."

I punched him lightly. "Am I supposed to be flattered by the praise of a C-quality essay writer?"

He chuckled, then stuck his earbuds in, drowning out everything but his music.

"Now, I trust you've all seen your essay scores and have spread them all over your social media accounts by this point," Mr. Michaelis said sarcastically from the front of the room. "I can't say I understand why you would do that, seeing as most of your essays were mediocre at best. In fact, I think the only good essay in this class was written by Ms. Bloodworth. As for the rest of you, you will have the opportunity to revise your essays and receive up to an additional letter grade. Of course, most of your scores will still be sub-par."

Mr. Michaelis might have gone on longer, if not for a knock at the door interrupting him. It was Morgan. She'd been on time every day since the first day of school, but now she was late again. I wondered why she was even bothering to knock.

"Excuse me for a moment." Mr. Michaelis ascended the stairs at an unnaturally fast rate, then opened the door to see a slightly disheveled-looking Morgan standing outside.

The two of them exchanged a few words. I saw Mr. Michaelis winking at Morgan, then letting her inside. She plopped into the seat at my right.

I was shocked. "I thought Mr. Michaelis wasn't going to let people in who were late?" I whispered to her.

Morgan flushed pink as she answered, "He said that he knew I'd tried to be on time and he'd make an exception for me, just this once."

So, Mr. Michaelis is a hypocrite, then?

"Pardon that interruption, class," Mr. Michaelis said. "Since we've finished up with our pal Dorian, I thought today we'd start on Wuthering Heights. Be prepared to take notes on what I'm about to say."

We all shuffled to get our notebooks and pencils out. From the corner of my eye, I could see a shy smile on Morgan's face.

An hour later, the bell rang to signal the end of class. As Ellis and I were about to head to Calculus, Mr. Michaelis stopped us at the door.

"Ms. Bloodworth, might I have a word with you?" He asked me. Today he'd worn a crisp white button-up shirt under his jacket, and he had the top two buttons undone, exposing the milky skin of his chest and collarbone. Ellis and I both went weak at the knees. He continued, "Mr. Maine, I won't keep your friend for too long, I promise you."

Instead of looking Mr. Michaelis in the eyes, Ellis nervously kept his gaze focused at Mr. Michaelis' chest as he answered, "Yes, that's fine. I'll s-see you in math, Adrienne." And he sped-walked out of the lecture hall without looking back.

Mr. Michaelis moved back toward his desk in the front of the room, so I followed him.

"Mr. Michaelis, why did you want to see me?" I asked him. "Is it about my essay? You implied there weren't any problems with it."

Mr. Michaelis smirked. "Oh, no. It was basically flawless, Ms. Adrianne. I just wanted to congratulate you on a job well done."

Why was he being so nice to me? In the two weeks I'd been in Mr. Michaelis' class, I'd noticed that he seemed to delight in embarrassing his students. If he asked a question, he'd skip over the people who actually had their hand raised to answer (i.e. me) and call on someone who was half-asleep and completely unprepared (usually Ellis). And if anyone gave him an especially stupid answer on an assignment (rest assured there was never a shortage of stupidity), he'd read it out to the class while the person who'd written it would blush so intensely that I'd consider contacting the fire department. To get sincere praise from him just seemed bizarre.

I wasn't sure what to say. Mr. Michaelis kept talking, not noticing my lack of a response.

"Between all of my English Literature students, you were the only one who wrote about… what was it you wrote again? Ah, yes, the theme of shallowness, and how each character in Dorian Gray was limited by their inability to tell a beautiful appearance from good moral character. A criticism of shallowness isn't something I expect to see from students at this school."

Uh… where exactly was he trying to go with this? I was completely lost.

Nervously, I stammered out, "Well, y-yeah, I guess it's not something I expect, either."

"Regardless, though, it was an interesting paper. It seemed like you were genuinely passionate about the topic. Perhaps it's something you have experience with?"

"Being shallow?" I asked him, still not quite understanding.

"Not necessarily." His smirk widened, and his eyes were flashing bright red, almost fuchsia. "But you seem to know a lot about shallow people, don't you? You are surrounded with them daily… at least, you seem to think you are."

He paused, like he expected me to say something. But I couldn't speak.

"I wonder. Could you be using this essay as a way to give thinly veiled criticisms of the people around you? Are you trying to pass judgments of your peers because you fear that if you don't judge them, they're going to judge you? Because, in that way, shallowness wouldn't be what's limiting you in the eyes of others. It would be you limiting yourself then, yes?"

Fuck him.

At that point, I was shaking. I didn't know why Mr. Michaelis was bothering to say any of this, but he seemed to know exactly how to get to me.

"Ms. Bloodworth? Are you all right?" He was faking concern now. "Don't mind me. I'm just thinking out loud right now. You really did write an excellent essay."

FUCK HIM. Why does he know all that? He's known me for two weeks… why does he know exactly what my weak points are?

"I should g-g-go to my next class now," my voice was so weak that I could barely recognize it as my own. "I'll s-see you tomorrow, Mr. M-Michaelis."

And I turned around and left the classroom as quickly as my legs would carry me, which wasn't very fast, since my legs were shaking.

I made it about halfway down the hall before I collapsed.

A/N:

God, Sebastian. Way to be a dick. (But if I'm writing as him, does that make me the dick?)

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm not sure when I'll have the next chapter up… probably within a few days. Hopefully poor Adrianne holds out until then.

Remember to review!