"But, Ms. Dirone," my first-year student, Jarred Phlïnkl, starts for the fourth time. "What exactly is a variable?"

"Oh, my Odin, Jarred, she's told you, like, a million times," my other student, Abalia Knumia—Abby, for short—snaps at him.

The classroom starts to hum with voices during this moment, the students apparently taking my not talking as an opportunity to talk themselves. "Okay, you guys," I say, raising my voice above its normal level in order to be heard. "Let's be quiet so I can answer Jarred's question," I pause, then mumble under my breath, "again."

I turn to the board and write down what I say for everyone to see, and for Jarred to (hopefully) write down as well. "A variable is a letter used to represent a quantity or function that may assume any given value." I turn back around, pleased to see a couple students writing it down. "Do you understand?" I ask, looking directly at Jarred.

He nods. "Yes. Now, what can you tell me about 'functions?'" he asks, making little quotation marks with his fingers when he says the word in question.

The class groans out loud at this while I do so inwardly. However, before I can respond, the bell rings.

Thank you.

Some kids are already out the door when a small girl in the front row squeaks, "Miss, do we have any homework?"

Several more groans are elicited from the remaining students. Someone even yells, "Oh, come on, Sara!"

I rack my brain for anything, not really wanting to give them homework, but feeling like I should say something. "Well," I begin, "the person who can come back next class with the best definition of 'function' for Jarred can have extra credit." A few kids laugh, but most of them just wipe the imaginary sweat off their brows and dart out of the room.

Once all of them have left and the door is closed, I fall into the big chair at my desk, holding my head in my hands.

Even with the medicine that I took this morning, I feel ill. I'm exhausted. I feel like I'm being prodded with the same painfully dull needle over and over again. That needle being my students.

"Rough morning?" I suddenly hear.

I flinch and shriek, then look up to see none other than Kaliegh Claus. She looks like a supermodel, of course, and as usual. She's wearing jeans that look more expensive than all the clothes I've ever owned combined, a red crop top and tall black boots.

"How did you get in here? I didn't hear the door, and I certainly would've heard your shoes."

She shrugs. "My dad is Santa. Our family is legendary for being able to sneak in unnoticed and undetected."

"I think you mean notorious," I remark.

She scrunches her nose at me. "Ha-ha. You're hilarious."

I give her a slight nod, then start to go over the roster for my fourth-year class next period. Just as I'm burning the name, "Cliff Fanger," into my mind, Kaliegh begins to drawl, "So. . . ."

I look back up at her, now slightly annoyed. "Is there a reason as to why you're here, Kaliegh?"

"Actually, yes," she admits, putting her palms on my desk. Then, really fast, "Doyouwanttosleepoveratmyhousethisweekend?" And she tops it off with a big smile.

I disbelievingly stare at her with a blank expression. She wants to have a sleep over with me? I certainly need to check this off on my list of weird-situations-that-I'd-have-never-thought-I'd-ever-be-in-when-I-was-human.

"Really?" I ask.

"Well, sure. I mean, this is what teenage girls do, right?"

"Wait; you're a teenager?"

She stares back at me, confused. "Yeah. I stopped aging at sixteen."

I stand up. "What? I thought you were twenty!"

She scoffs, "I am not twenty." She pauses, then adds to herself, "I wish I was twenty, though."

Wow. This'll really teach me not to just assume things about others. To avoid having to endure the rest of this awkward situation, I raise my eyebrows and say, "So, your house?"

Kaliegh visibly snaps back to reality. "Yeah. Sorry, but I don't want to deal with Jack and his infamous sarcasm."

I laugh. "I understand. I get sick of it, too. But, uh, how would I get to, you know, the North Pole?" I ask, not believing what I'm saying. Who would've thought I'd ever go to Santa's workshop?

"Don't stress, I'll pick you up at midday. Cool?"

I nod. "Cool." The bell rings, cruelly dragging me back to the present. I groan. "Sorry, I gotta get back to work. I'll see you on Saturday?" I look up, but I find that she's gone, leaving my question unanswered. I roll my eyes. Jack's family is so weird.

My next class starts filing in, quickly filling in the seats. All of the kids are older than I am with them being fourth-year students. It makes me feel small and understated.

Suddenly, my body temperature drops. I usually associate this with the feeling that something bad is going to happen, but this feels oddly different and yet familiar, though I can't place it. Moreover, it's excruciatingly annoying. The feeling continues to irritate me, so I dismiss it. I don't want anything to be bothering me while I'm trying to focus on being more mature than a bunch of older kids. It's stressful enough as it is.

The tardy bell rings, and thankfully, all the seats are filled. I start calling roll, memorizing faces as I go. There's a particular student that gets my attention: Randolph Crunich. He has three gaudy nose piercings.

I come across the name, "Cliff Fanger" again, and that's when the familiar territory ends. "Marie Flinn?" I call out.

A big-boned Glacivira gruffly responds, "Here." I nod, then mark her present.

I read the next name, "Jack Frost?"

Wait.

What?

"Present," an unsettlingly familiar voice answers. I look towards the direction of the Voice to see none other than my boyfriend.

Oh, no.

"Oh, yes," I see him mouth at me, a smug smile on his lips.

I suppress the great urge to stare him down until he leaves, knowing that my other students would find it super inappropriate. Therefore, ripping my eyes away from him, I go back to calling roll. "Joane Harrick?"

I go through the rest of the list, all the while thinking of how freakish this situation is. I have to teach my boyfriend. This is so weird! Why is he even in my class? He should've finished school millennia ago!

Not only will this be odd because I'm dating my student (eww!), but it will be downright awkward when I have to discipline him, which I know I will. He misbehaves like it's his job, and that is going to interfere with my job! I groan inwardly. He probably thinks that I'm going to let him get away with anything. Well, this is going to be a rude awakening.

After I've taken roll, I start my lesson. It mainly consists of the basics as it is the introduction to the class. When I taught it in my last two classes, it was easy. I had memorized what I was going to say and I knew the material like the back of my hand. But now, I can't focus! I can practically feel Jack's eyes on me, which is driving me insane and he knows it.

"Ms. Dirone," a short but deep-voiced Glacivir starts, interrupting my unpleasant reverie. "Can you explain the difference between the Identity Property and the Zero Property?"

I nod. "The Identity Property is in place when the sum or product is equal to the original addend or factor of an equation, whereas in an equation where the Zero Property is in place, the sum or product is always zero."

Jack suddenly pipes up, "Yeah, and what are those?" His comment bring forth laughter from the other students. I begin to worry as to whether everyone can see my pissed-off face.

Instead of answering his question I say, "You didn't raise your hand, Mr. Frost."

"So?"

"So, if you don't raise your hand in my class, you will not be acknowledged."

"But you're acknowledging me right now," he drawls, smiling his mischievous smile. I refrain from chucking my teacher's guide at him.

"Mr. Frost, do you want detention?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, challenging him. His eyes widen by a fraction in response.

For a moment we simply stare at each other from across the room. He says nothing in response, so figuring that I've won, I turn away. He chooses then to say: "Depends. Who would be supervising?" The class laughs again.

Keeping myself from acting childish in anyway, I reply, "Oh, I believe that I can get Principal Bilrom to host the next session." At this, he shuts up and gives me an amused glare. The rest of the students laugh. I finally turn back to the board, quite pleased with myself.

In the last few minutes of class, I just let the students talk with one another, too exhausted to continue teaching. I got really far in the lesson and the majority of the class was keeping up. I suppose that's because they're fourth-years.

Suddenly, I notice that the class has quieted down and look up from my seat. As I do, a girl in the front row asks me, "Ms. Dirone, how old are you?"

I panic; inwardly, of course. It's not like I can tell them that they're all older than me, but it's also not as though I can pretend to be any older than sixteen. So, I answer, "I'm immortal."

At my words, what is pretty much the entire class says, "Ohh," and a few kids exclaim, "That makes so much sense!" I flush with embarrassment, though no one is looking as the bell rings and they all scramble out of their seats to go to their next class. A few of them mumble goodbyes as they go.

Only one student remains after a minute: Jack. This time, I groan aloud. He has simply stayed in his seat and is now looking at me with a lazy smile on his lips.

"What?" I ask, too tired for anything clever.

"Hmm? You're not going to yell at me for not telling you that I would be one of your students?" Jack remarks, looking both genuinely and facetiously surprised.

I lay my head on my hand. "I don't really see the point. It's not as if my yelling at you will change this."

He finally gets up and walks over to my desk. "So, you're not upset?"

I sigh. "Well, of course, I'm upset. I'm dating one of my students!"

"I—" Jack starts, but is cut off when the door opens and one of my second-year students comes in. She's a petite girl with really light blue skin and white hair. She stares at us with wide, accusing eyes. Before I can even think, Jack says, "Thanks, Ms. Dirone," just like any other student would and leaves the room.

The girl then moves to a seat in the back, no longer troubled by the tall boy, probably. I however, lean back in my chair with my evil thoughts. Suddenly, I remember Jack at Naomi's party being constantly embarrassed about, well, I don't exactly what, but I'm sure that it had to do with me! Is he ashamed of me?

Okay, that is officially the most ridiculous thing that I have ever thought.

However, the worry of it doesn't leave me even as I start my next lesson.