I'm sorry it has been almost a week. :( Enjoy!

"I think it is obvious that your father undersold you. With your credentials you could quite literally have been put into one of the top ten schools in the country," said the man that I saw naked yesterday. When I first walked in here I contemplated quitting right then and there. My father had a good point, he said it would look bad if I quit and switched to a different school, but I saw this man naked. I'm sure if I had told my father that factor I would have been back home by now. My breakfast was threatening to come back up the longer I sat here staring at him.

"Thank you, Mr. Bane, that means a lot to me. I emailed you my lesson plans, but I expect them to change depending on what Mr. Lightwood thinks and his advice. Is he in today?"

"Yes, I do believe he arrived a few minutes before you did. He had a few things to deal with considering he is the coach of the basketball team. He may not be in his room, but you're welcome to go there and wait for him. Ms. Lightwood gave you a key and the room is number eighty-seven. Eight is the hallway number and seven is the room number. You'll eventually figure this school out. I hope you have a good first day, Ms. Fray," Mr. Bane explained with a small smile. I think he realized how uncomfortable I was, he just didn't know exactly why.

I picked my bag up off the floor and made my way through the door back into the main office. Isabelle was there talking to someone on the phone about a Senior Banner or something like that. I didn't catch much of the conversation before I waved to her and left the office. The hallway closest to the office had a plaque with "51-60" listed on it. I walked past it hoping that six would be the next number, but that wasn't the case. I saw the next hallway was "41-50" and I turned around and walked back towards the office. I decided not to ask Isabelle for help again and to try and find my own way. If this side of the school was the lower numbered rooms then the other hallways across the courtyard must be where I'm supposed to be.

It was early enough that no children were crowding the grounds of the school and I chose to cross the courtyard. I figured it was the faster way and a breath of fresh air is always nice before being stuck inside all day. My nerves had mysteriously evaporated after my meeting with Mr. Bane; I think the disgust won out. Only a handful of students were outside and they stared at me as I crossed, they most likely believe that I'm a new student. I know I'm short and have a baby face, but I'm almost out of college. This is getting ridiculous.

Once I got to the other side of the building, it was easy to find the correct hallway. It was the same hallway Kaelie had incorrectly guided me to yesterday. Diagonal from the room I dreaded the most was room number eighty-seven, or better known as my new hell. I grabbed the key stashed away in my pocket and unlocked the door. Turning on the lights and observing the generous amount of space, I noticed how little decorations there were. The whole room was the color white and I felt the need to steal some paint from the art room and make this room my new canvas. Only two posters in the entire room, and they were both about basketball. How boring is this guy?!

There were two teacher desks located in the room; I went to the smaller one to put my things down. The chair squeaked loudly as I pulled it out so I could sit down. I was still trying to get used to my loaner laptop, but some of the features threw me off. Why are the exit buttons on the left side for everything? I found myself groaning half of the time while I waited for them to finish with my laptop. Two more days and I could get rid of this thing.

Mr. Lightwood and I exchanged emails last week about lessons for this week and I spent a few hours doing Power Points for my lectures. Based on where each class was in history, I wrote each an estimated lesson plan.

Isabelle gave me my class-teaching schedule, because it was easy to assume that I would have a hard time remembering all of this. I was lucky enough to get a coach for my advisor; he had an extra free period at the end of the day for any extra time he needed with the team. For me, this meant that I could go home early. St. Mary's students attend six curriculum classes everyday. They have two lunch periods; one for upper classmen and one for lower. The school gives them forty-five minutes for each lunch, while the remaining students are still in class. Homeroom is at the beginning of the day for an hour so that the students have time to get here late without missing classes and to do any last minute homework. They have eight minutes in between classes to get where they need to be; if I had that when I was in school, I wouldn't have had half of my tardies.

I was zoning out when a Greek god walked into the pale room. I couldn't breathe and I could feel my heart beating fifty miles per second. What kind of school did they send me to?! Why is there someone this attractive working as a freaking schoolteacher? I wanted to say something to him, but my anger was seething through my mind. I stood up to distract myself and decided to shift my feelings into worry about meeting this man. Surely there should have been a law about looking this good, and as I got closer to him he seemed to get even more attractive. His hand was outstretched and I gladly met it with one of my smaller artist hands. He grinned at me and I finally found his imperfection; he had a chipped incisor. His golden eyes matched the color of his hair perfectly, and I mildly accepted that he must dye it for it to look this good. His work attire allowed his shirt to be tight from his obviously large muscles underneath. If I wasn't drooling by now, I'm sure I would've been if he didn't break my concentration by opening his mouth, "Look, I know I'm a golden god and everything, but there's a lot we need to go over before homeroom starts."

It was then that I noticed the vague lipstick mark right above his upper lip. My anger came back immediately, "What do you want me to break out into song? How about Tiny Dancer? Oh and you've got something on your face, right about here," I sarcastically responded as I pointed at my upper lip. I saw surprise in his eyes, but it was gone quickly. I made my way back to where I was previously engaged in my Civil War PowerPoint for the juniors. It was just review, because they had previously covered most of the material before break. I had some trouble getting my pictures to show up, but in the end I managed to finish it right before the conceited jackass entered the room.

I was really excited to start talking about the World Wars because those were topics that I found most interesting in history. Learning the history of the United States was one of the reasons I chose to become a teacher to begin with. Don't get me wrong; I would pick a blank canvas and a paintbrush over any history book there is. But I appreciate the past of our world and I am interested in its future. Especially interested in the future of this semester, because working next to this guy every single day seems more like a problem.

Anyone catch my reference?