{ 1 }
Celia read the text from Michelle quickly before tucking her cell away in her bag.
Mr McC can give me extra credit NE time. Such a QT!
Michelle was watching Celia, blonde eyebrows raised, from the next aisle. Celia nodded broadly, mouthed ‘hottie’ and rolled her eyes.
“Join us, ladies?” Ryan McConnell couldn’t help grinning as both girls jumped in their seats and flushed when he spoke from behind them. He knew Michelle had a little crush. She often hung around after class, twirling her hair and trying out her budding feminine wiles on him. And she wasn’t the only one. Apparently, to the 11th and 12th grade girls of Thomas Emery High, he was considered quite the catch.
It was flattering, he supposed. He just wished they were more genuinely interested in what he was teaching and not flirting with an older man who had no interest whatsoever in what they had to offer.
“S-sure, Mr. McConnell. What were we talking about?” Celia spoke up, saving her friend, who’s face had gone a deep red.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans and strolled to the front of the classroom. “What a great question, Miss Waters! Can someone tell Celia what we’re talking about?”
A few tentative hands were raised. Ryan scanned the room, taking in the faces of his students. He leaned back against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “Mike?” He chose a boy from the middle of the room, one who didn’t participate often.
Mike glanced up, eyes widening in surprise to hear his name called. “Uh. Writing?”
Ryan laughed, the deep sound causing several of the girls in the room to sigh. There was more than one of them who daydreamed of his grey-blue eyes and dimpled smile.
“Good call, Mike. I knew you had it in you.”
Several of the other students chuckled at that. Mike shrugged, but he was grinning. Ryan pushed off the desk and circled around to the whiteboard, pointing at the quote he had written there before they’d arrived.
“‘If you’re going to be a writer,’” Ryan intoned, tapping the words, “‘the first essential is to write.’” He turned back to the class, brows raised. “Sometimes we forget that writing isn’t just a calling to tell stories. It’s work. These authors whose names we talk about in here... Fitzgerald, Du Maurier, Hemingway. They put in the time to craft their work. That’s why we’re still talking about them now.”
“So that’s why you make us do all those rewrites?” Jackson, one of the starring point guards from the school basketball team, tipped his chair back, the mocha skin of his shaved head gleaming in the overhead light. “So we’ll all be famous authors?”
Ryan shrugged with good humor, despite Jackson’s flippant tone. “Why not?”
Jackson snorted. Michelle sighed, cupping her pointed chin in her hands and gazing at Ryan adoringly.
“I think that’d be great,” she breathed.
“Well, let’s talk about that!” Ryan slid into his chair, pushing the sleeves of his black, button-down shirt up to his elbows.
One of the few female students who didn’t cast him calf eyes, cocked her head. Her dyed blue hair cascaded over her shoulder as she furrowed her brow. “About what, Mr. McC? How great it’s going to be for Michelle to be a famous author?” The skeptical girl wrinkled her nose, the metal ring piercing her nostril reflecting an errant beam of sunlight across the room.
“Yeah,” Ryan replied, making several of his students gape. “Only not just her. All of you. What do you think it would be like?” He rested his elbows on the desk, thumping his fingers rhythmically against the wood. “Figuring out what you’re going to do after you graduate is one of the most important parts of high school. And aside from teaching you about grammar and symbolism and how to write a decent sentence, it’s my job to help you prepare for the real world. So!”
Ryan clapped his hands once, loudly. He was gratified
Celia read the text from Michelle quickly before tucking her cell away in her bag.
Mr McC can give me extra credit NE time. Such a QT!
Michelle was watching Celia, blonde eyebrows raised, from the next aisle. Celia nodded broadly, mouthed ‘hottie’ and rolled her eyes.
“Join us, ladies?” Ryan McConnell couldn’t help grinning as both girls jumped in their seats and flushed when he spoke from behind them. He knew Michelle had a little crush. She often hung around after class, twirling her hair and trying out her budding feminine wiles on him. And she wasn’t the only one. Apparently, to the 11th and 12th grade girls of Thomas Emery High, he was considered quite the catch.
It was flattering, he supposed. He just wished they were more genuinely interested in what he was teaching and not flirting with an older man who had no interest whatsoever in what they had to offer.
“S-sure, Mr. McConnell. What were we talking about?” Celia spoke up, saving her friend, who’s face had gone a deep red.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans and strolled to the front of the classroom. “What a great question, Miss Waters! Can someone tell Celia what we’re talking about?”
A few tentative hands were raised. Ryan scanned the room, taking in the faces of his students. He leaned back against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “Mike?” He chose a boy from the middle of the room, one who didn’t participate often.
Mike glanced up, eyes widening in surprise to hear his name called. “Uh. Writing?”
Ryan laughed, the deep sound causing several of the girls in the room to sigh. There was more than one of them who daydreamed of his grey-blue eyes and dimpled smile.
“Good call, Mike. I knew you had it in you.”
Several of the other students chuckled at that. Mike shrugged, but he was grinning. Ryan pushed off the desk and circled around to the whiteboard, pointing at the quote he had written there before they’d arrived.
“‘If you’re going to be a writer,’” Ryan intoned, tapping the words, “‘the first essential is to write.’” He turned back to the class, brows raised. “Sometimes we forget that writing isn’t just a calling to tell stories. It’s work. These authors whose names we talk about in here... Fitzgerald, Du Maurier, Hemingway. They put in the time to craft their work. That’s why we’re still talking about them now.”
“So that’s why you make us do all those rewrites?” Jackson, one of the starring point guards from the school basketball team, tipped his chair back, the mocha skin of his shaved head gleaming in the overhead light. “So we’ll all be famous authors?”
Ryan shrugged with good humor, despite Jackson’s flippant tone. “Why not?”
Jackson snorted. Michelle sighed, cupping her pointed chin in her hands and gazing at Ryan adoringly.
“I think that’d be great,” she breathed.
“Well, let’s talk about that!” Ryan slid into his chair, pushing the sleeves of his black, button-down shirt up to his elbows.
One of the few female students who didn’t cast him calf eyes, cocked her head. Her dyed blue hair cascaded over her shoulder as she furrowed her brow. “About what, Mr. McC? How great it’s going to be for Michelle to be a famous author?” The skeptical girl wrinkled her nose, the metal ring piercing her nostril reflecting an errant beam of sunlight across the room.
“Yeah,” Ryan replied, making several of his students gape. “Only not just her. All of you. What do you think it would be like?” He rested his elbows on the desk, thumping his fingers rhythmically against the wood. “Figuring out what you’re going to do after you graduate is one of the most important parts of high school. And aside from teaching you about grammar and symbolism and how to write a decent sentence, it’s my job to help you prepare for the real world. So!”
Ryan clapped his hands once, loudly. He was gratified
Similar Books
