slow motion clip, like from a music video—except the girl would be dripping wet, water slinging from her hair in a seductive dance only males seemed to get.
But I was selling them short—the males I mean. Not a one of the boys in class, or Mr. Nelson for that matter, seemed to miss the water. Their eyes were locked on Nellie without so much as a spritzer bottle in sight.
Obscenely aware of her audience, Nellie slid from her chair and wandered toward the front. Beyond annoyed with her performance and the males’ reaction to it, I waved my hand in the air.
Mr. Nelson shook himself out of his stupor enough to call on me. “Lucinda?” he croaked. Before I could come up with a question, Brittany jumped in.
Her gaze guilelessly on his face, she said, “We were wondering, will we be studying British history this semester? We’ve been reading about the restoration period. It’s fascinating.”
Her bullet hit. Nellie spun on the ball of her foot. She tapped the pin-sharp tip of her pencil against her chin.
Mr. Nelson simply looked shocked. “You’ve been reading? I mean…you’ve been reading about history?”
Brittany’s eyes narrowed, another confirmation that her stupid act was just that, an act. Then she smiled. “Actually, I saw a movie. It was about King Charles. He had a mistress, you know.”
“Brittany, I’m sure that is fascinating, but hardly—” Mr. Nelson’s lecture was cut off by Nellie who had sashayed her way back to her desk. A few feet from Brittany she stopped, placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward. I thought her boobs were going to tumble out onto Brittany’s five-subject notebook. “A mistress. Say what you mean.
A whore
. The King had a whore. And I assure you the job was totally to her liking.” Then she tilted her head and winked. Shane Bollock caught the full force of that gesture. His jaw dropped an inch.
Brittany bared her teeth in a smile that verged on predatory. Afraid she was forgetting exactly what Nellie was, I jumped out of my chair and stepped in front of her desk, blocking her view of the female demon.
Mr. Nelson frowned. “Lucinda?”
“Oh, I…I just wanted to say, I saw the movie too, it was good, but like you said probably not at all appropriate.” I looked like an idiot. The look on Mr. Nelson’s face confirmed it. I could feel a flush moving up my neck and over my cheeks.
“Why don’t you return to your seat, Lucinda?” He used that “calm” voice, the one that told us he was counting in his head. A couple of football players snickered. Normally I would have just slunk back to my seat, but this time I had bigger things to worry about than what a few jocks thought of me.
As Mr. Nelson turned to return to the front, I bumped into Brittany with my hip and shot her a “this is not helping” look. She flicked her gaze to the side, but settled down after that, no more mentions of Kings or whores. It was about all I could ask for.
The rest of class went smoothly. There was one bump when Nelson announced our next projects were research papers—bios on people from history we thought made a significant impact, but got left off the pages of history books. We had to justify why they were deserving of the notice and then give our opinion on why we thought they were left out.
Shane Bollock turned around and faced Brittany. “Can you give me the name of that movie? I’d like to do a little research on that wh…” Mr. Nelson gave him the eyeball. “…mistress you mentioned. She sounds like my kind of woman.” He flicked his gaze to Nellie.
She ran her index finger down her neck and smiled.
The bell rang, and I shoved my way past all of them. Outside the room, I waited for Brittany. The two football players strutted by. I met their gaze. They immediately shifted theirs to the side and scurried off. I’d forgotten them before they made it past the first line of lockers.
Brittany appeared and I squeezed next to her in the rush of students,
But I was selling them short—the males I mean. Not a one of the boys in class, or Mr. Nelson for that matter, seemed to miss the water. Their eyes were locked on Nellie without so much as a spritzer bottle in sight.
Obscenely aware of her audience, Nellie slid from her chair and wandered toward the front. Beyond annoyed with her performance and the males’ reaction to it, I waved my hand in the air.
Mr. Nelson shook himself out of his stupor enough to call on me. “Lucinda?” he croaked. Before I could come up with a question, Brittany jumped in.
Her gaze guilelessly on his face, she said, “We were wondering, will we be studying British history this semester? We’ve been reading about the restoration period. It’s fascinating.”
Her bullet hit. Nellie spun on the ball of her foot. She tapped the pin-sharp tip of her pencil against her chin.
Mr. Nelson simply looked shocked. “You’ve been reading? I mean…you’ve been reading about history?”
Brittany’s eyes narrowed, another confirmation that her stupid act was just that, an act. Then she smiled. “Actually, I saw a movie. It was about King Charles. He had a mistress, you know.”
“Brittany, I’m sure that is fascinating, but hardly—” Mr. Nelson’s lecture was cut off by Nellie who had sashayed her way back to her desk. A few feet from Brittany she stopped, placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward. I thought her boobs were going to tumble out onto Brittany’s five-subject notebook. “A mistress. Say what you mean.
A whore
. The King had a whore. And I assure you the job was totally to her liking.” Then she tilted her head and winked. Shane Bollock caught the full force of that gesture. His jaw dropped an inch.
Brittany bared her teeth in a smile that verged on predatory. Afraid she was forgetting exactly what Nellie was, I jumped out of my chair and stepped in front of her desk, blocking her view of the female demon.
Mr. Nelson frowned. “Lucinda?”
“Oh, I…I just wanted to say, I saw the movie too, it was good, but like you said probably not at all appropriate.” I looked like an idiot. The look on Mr. Nelson’s face confirmed it. I could feel a flush moving up my neck and over my cheeks.
“Why don’t you return to your seat, Lucinda?” He used that “calm” voice, the one that told us he was counting in his head. A couple of football players snickered. Normally I would have just slunk back to my seat, but this time I had bigger things to worry about than what a few jocks thought of me.
As Mr. Nelson turned to return to the front, I bumped into Brittany with my hip and shot her a “this is not helping” look. She flicked her gaze to the side, but settled down after that, no more mentions of Kings or whores. It was about all I could ask for.
The rest of class went smoothly. There was one bump when Nelson announced our next projects were research papers—bios on people from history we thought made a significant impact, but got left off the pages of history books. We had to justify why they were deserving of the notice and then give our opinion on why we thought they were left out.
Shane Bollock turned around and faced Brittany. “Can you give me the name of that movie? I’d like to do a little research on that wh…” Mr. Nelson gave him the eyeball. “…mistress you mentioned. She sounds like my kind of woman.” He flicked his gaze to Nellie.
She ran her index finger down her neck and smiled.
The bell rang, and I shoved my way past all of them. Outside the room, I waited for Brittany. The two football players strutted by. I met their gaze. They immediately shifted theirs to the side and scurried off. I’d forgotten them before they made it past the first line of lockers.
Brittany appeared and I squeezed next to her in the rush of students,
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