MySpace: A Place For Teachers

“I heard he's hot. He's young, too,” a female voice drawled, giggling lightly.

“Sooo glad Raske is leaving. He was the worst teacher. Good riddance,” another snide voice added on, laughing snobbishly along with the first girl.

I recognized the first girl's voice as Marissa Atkins, the self-proclaimed leader of our high school and proclaimed by the rest of us as 'bitch'. The second girl was her right hand lackey, Ashlee Wilkinson.

I sunk lower in my seat, trying to conceal my chunky five-subject notebook. Although, no one could clearly read my square, tiny writing, it's so much better not having someone reading over your shoulder. Especially, a teacher.

My best friend since childhood, Mason Harlow, came and slouched in the chair next to me, grinning sloppily. “I hear the new teach is hot.”

I smiled weakly. Mason doesn't like girls, but that doesn't faze me one bit. It doesn't concern too many other people, except for a select few. “I guess so.”

“You're not excited? C'mon, darlin', it'll make the whole class worth while,” he reassured, rubbing my shoulder tenderly.

I laughed. “It'd be better if he taught one of the worst classes, like Math or dare I say it, Geography. Not an easy class like Literature.”

Mason pinched my earlobe, laughing loudly, drawing attention to himself. “He's doing the detentions, too, love. I hope I'll be seeing more of you in there.”

I patted his cheek and smirked. “I don't think so. I've got more important things to do than stare at a teacher for two hours.”

He shifted his eyes suggestively and hummed to himself. “Not even that teacher?” He pointed with a thin index finger toward the doorway.

I was about to retort with 'Hell no', until I saw that he wasn't talking about our middle-aged, slightly balding teacher, Mr. Raske. He was referring to our new teacher, whom I had overlooked as a student. I let my mouth fall slightly ajar as I turned toward Mason.

Mason held his chin up high and bore a smug grin on his lips. “He's got the body of a god,” he drawled in awe, playing with a sliver ring on his thin finger.

I smothered myself into my notebook as I smirked to myself. “Aw, does someone have a wittle crush on the new teacher?”

He shook his head and laughed quietly, rubbing the top of my head gently. “Sweetie, you'd know if that happened.”

I nod, agreeing, and went back to my story. Mason leans over my shoulder, failing to be subtle, and tries to read my scrunched up handwriting.

“Write bigger. I can't read anything you're writing,” Mason whines, breathing on my neck in a pouting gesture.

I giggled gently and flicked his nose, making him flinch back to his seat. “That really is kind of the whole point of the scrunched up handwriting.”

“You're the psycho, love,” Mason says airily, placing his face in his hands, impatiently awaiting the introduction of the new teacher.

I continue writing, although my scrawls were becoming soundless slurs on the smudged paper. My vocabulary on the paper decreased to a fifth grader's and my words increased in size. I quickly stopped and shut my notebook, exasperated.

Mr. Raske briskly walked in the classroom, as always with an air of superiority, and gestured for the man behind him to follow. Everyone quickly sat down and ceased their chatter.

“Good afternoon, class,” Raske said to us, expecting our answer.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Raske,” we all droned in a monotone.

“As you all are aware of, I am moving to California. Mr. Haner will now be taking over for me,” Raske continued, gesturing toward the man behind him, who was currently smiling awkwardly.

Some, actually most, of the girls acknowledged him, batting their eyelashes flirtatiously and grinning. I stayed quiet, studying him and his actions. He barely moved at all.

“Well, best of luck to you, Brian,” Raske said to him in a hushed tone as he sauntered out the door. Some brave souls shot him the one finger salute as he made his last breaths. In this room, I added reluctantly in my head.

I looked to 'Brian' skeptically to see his reaction, but he only smiled at each one of the brave souls. Mr. Haner shut the door and continued to the front of the classroom. All was silent.

“Hello, I'm Mr. Haner. I'll be your Literature teacher for this year,” he said to us, smiling calmly. I wondered what he was thinking.

Some of the girls giggled, and Mason was constantly glancing at him up and down. He didn't seem to notice, or didn't seem to care. I nudged him a bit; he grinned at me and resumed his staring. I, too, glanced up at our new teacher.

He was young. He was about twenty-four, at the oldest. I couldn't tell what colour his eyes were distinctly, but they looked like a solid shade of brown. His cheekbones were high on his narrow face. His slim lips were raised in a a smile. He was fairly tall, being somewhere close to six feet. Maybe a few inches shorter. His nearly jet black hair stood in fine spikes at angles on his head and near his shoulders. He was the last person I'd expect to be a teacher.

He rolled his eyes suddenly, making some boys chuckle and more girls giggle. “Ask five questions, then we'll get started.”

How he knew what we were all thinking, I will never know, but everyone's hand was raised high in the air. He laughed loudly and swept his eyes around the room.

He pointed to a girl in the front row, whose name was Lindsay, I think, and she blushed lightly. “Where did you live previously?”

The girls hissed and some audacious ones booed at Lindsay, cursing her for wasting one question.

Mr. Haner smiled, grateful it was an actual normal question. “I came from Huntington Beach. Pretty nice place, actually.”

Some people 'ooh'-d as he called on several other people. One girl asked if he had a girlfriend, to which he replied no. That sent all the girls into fits of giggles. Mason gazed longingly at our teacher, which made me laugh and shake my head in a way that clearly said 'he'll never learn'.

A few more questions were asked until he called on my best friend, Mason. I knew him; he would ask the most outrageous question, and we both knew that. He put on his best charming smile and asked Mr. Haner, “What's the best fuck you've had in your life?”

I swear, the whole room got deathly quiet; even the girls stopped their inane giggling. The boys chuckled. Finally, after a few full minutes of silence, Mr. Haner smiled.

“A girl named Emilie. Junior year of college,” he spoke, smirking lightly.

The whole room burst into gasping fits; we were all gasping for air. Mason raised his eyebrows but immediately starting in loud guffaws, sending the whole room in giggles and laughter. No one could have honestly expected that from a teacher, even a younger one.

Mr. Haner tapped his hand on the desk and the room went into a comfortable silence. “Alright, we are going to learn about different poets and their poems. No groaning.”

He hastily added the last statement just as most of us opened our mouths to complain. I smiled to myself. He caught my eye and smirked lightly. I breathed in quickly and directed my attention to Mason, who had an identical smirk plastered on. I rolled my eyes as I tapped my pencil almost inaudibly on the desk.

The teacher walked up to the dry erase board that almost covered the wall up front and uncapped a blue marker. He scrawled 'poems' high at the top in a sloppy sort of handwriting. He wrote 'William Shakespeare', 'Edgar Allan Poe', and 'Robert Frost' under the title.

“Hey, didn't Shakespeare write plays, not poems?” a boy called from the back of the room, no doubt one of those who get a dozen detentions a day.

Mr. Haner gave a strained smile. “He's also a poet, know-it-all. I suggest you keep your mouth shut if you're gonna talk shit about what you don't know.”

Snickers filled the room. I even let a small snigger out.

“Now then. Does anyone know a poem or play by this guy?” he questioned, jabbing a finger at Shakespeare's name.

No one raised their hands except for Marissa, who was batting her eyelashes accordingly. Even Mr. Haner himself rolled his eyes slightly, although I was sure I was the only one who noticed. He pointed her boredly. “You.”

“Romeo and Juliet,” she nearly purred in a sickly sweet voice, wrinkling her nose in what she probably thought as a cute gesture.

“Alright. Do you have something in your eye?” the teacher asked her, batting his own eyelashes mockingly as he wrote 'Romeo and Juliet' under Shakespeare's name. We all laughed.

“Does anyone know who Robert Frost is?” he questioned us, laughing under his breath.

“A poet,” we all answer in unison, us all cracking up. He smiled.

“And does anyone know a poem that he wrote?”

I drowned out the sounds of the room around me. Everyone's voice became a slur as I slowly opened the cover of my huge notebook and gripped my neon blue mechanical pencil firmly. I scribbled my favourite words on a middle blank page; that was what I did when I was going through a writer's block stage. I wrote 'redrum' in bold, blocky letters, it being my favourite semordnilap. I smiled to myself as I wrote other words, including paranoia, which I drew small elaborate borders around the letters.

That's when my book was smacked shut and thrown to the floor. I gazed up in confusion into the dark caramel coloured eyes of my teacher. He narrowed those eyes at me as he told me quickly and sternly, “Don't pick it up. Don't touch it, don't look at it, don't even think about it.”

Just like that, he walked off to teach some more. I let out a breath, reminiscing his last words to me. He was definitely one of a kind.

Mason poked me on the ear, grinning broadly. I smiled back and waved him off, shaking my head. He pointed to the clock to signalize the final seconds of class. Mr. Haner didn't notice the gesture, but he did notice the end of class. He sat down at his desk and waved us off.

“Go on. Get outta here. No homework tonight, be grateful,” he said to us lazily, smiling at us as we got up to leave after the bell rang.

As I got up, I hastily scooped up my notebook into my hand and slung my messenger bag over my shoulder that carried my writing utensils in it. I carried a few notebooks, about fifty neon mechanical pencils, my laptop, some sharpies, and some gum. Never go anywhere without gum.

As I passed by the teacher's desk, he glanced up at me briefly, grinning at the way I tried to hide my face in the curve of my neck. He didn't say anything to me, and I said nothing to him. As I walked into the chaotic, high school hallways, I smiled to myself at the fact I never spoke one word to him.

I met up with Mason at my locker and crushed some things into my gray backpack, seeing as though there was no room in my messenger bag. I shut my locker and walked out of the school building to my house, Mason trailing not far behind me.

**

“That was the best Lit class I've ever attended. He had a lovely ass,” Mason mused as he lay sprawled across my silver and purple comforter that bunched up on my bed.

“Leave it to you to notice those things,” I replied lazily, drawing stars and hearts all over my notebook pages.

Mason laughed quietly behind me. “I'm sure every other girl did, too.”

I muttered to myself something completely incoherent, even to myself. Mason sat up slowly, rubbing his head when he got a head rush.

“Can I check my Myspace real quick?” he asked, already walking towards my computer. I didn't bother answering because he was already on Myspace by the time I noticed. “You know, you should go on Myspace more often. It's totally fun.”

“Yeah, alright,” I murmured, laying my head down, and closed my eyes. I had made a Myspace a month or so ago, and I was still learning the basics. I filled in most of my info with the help of Mason, although nothing too personal. I added a picture of my older cousin, because to me, she looked like a Lily. I'm sure she would have minded.

After a good fifteen minutes, Mason leaped up so quickly that my rolling chair toppled over on the carpet, jolting me awake. “Was that needed?”

“Yes! Come look at this!” Mason all but shrieked, gesturing frantically towards the computer screen.

I rolled my eyes. He could be such a child,sometimes. I slowly got up and meandered my way over to the screen. My mouth dropped open to its full length, my eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. “Holy crap! Is that..?”

“The one and only,” he said slowly, his eyes scanning the page.

“Leave it to you to find a teacher's Myspace page,” I retorted dryly, my own eyes carefully searching the page.

Then, Mason logged out of his account.

I walked towards the threshold, trying to erase the (sexy) picture of Brian Haner from his Myspace page off of my mind. I called back to Mason, “You want an Amp?”

Mason looked busy typing on the computer but he replied, “Nah. I feel in the mood for a Red Bull.”

“Sorry, hotshot, I just drank the last one last night,” I slyly admitted, laughing lightly.

He thought for a moment, but continued typing. “Fine, get me a Full Throttle.” He knew I always had Full Throttle in the house.

I walked into the kitchen and grabbed an Amp and a Full Throttle. I shut the fridge door and walked slowly back to my room down the hallway. I could hear Mason snickering.

I cautiously pushed open the door to reveal a guiltily smiling Mason standing with his arms behind his back beside the computer. I narrowed my eyes at him as I set the energy drinks on the cracked, wooden table beside the doorway.

“What did you do?” I asked him accusingly, walking over to the computer desk.

He hummed softly, as he did when he was anxious, bored, or smug. My eyes frenetically gazed across the screen, looking for anything out of place. The only thing I noticed was that he had logged onto my account, which I didn't particularly find anything wrong with; he had done that before. Another thing was a new message in my inbox.

I breathed a deep sigh of relief, placing the chair right-side up and plopping down onto it. I clicked 'inbox' and waited for the message to appear. When it did, I froze wide-eyed at the message. It read:

To: ~*~Lily-bear~*~
From: Brain ((rockstar))

hey, how r u?

I looked over my shoulder at Mason, who was shifting his weight from side to side. I shook my head in disbelief. “Did you send him a friend request?”

“Yes,” he replied, quite bluntly, broadly grinning.

I rolled my eyes. “Why?”

“Well, I figured it'd be fun to talk to your teacher with Myspace. Aw, come on, sweetie, I know you were going to send him one either way,” he accused lightly.

I smirked softly. He was right. I probably would have.

“He doesn't have to know who you really are. Actually, he can't. He could get fired.”

I dropped open my mouth. “Fired?! Mas-”

“Calm down. That's why he can't find out. It'll be fun, trust me!” he promised, clapping his hands together.

I smiled. “Alright, then. Come on.”

Mason skipped over to me as I scooted over so he could sit next to me. We fit, but we were tightly squeezed together. His eyes were shining with excitement and sheer delight. I laughed lightly as I started typing my reply to him.

To: Brian ((rockstar))
From: ~*~Lily-bear~*~

i'm fine, just trying to figure out myspace, haha. how are u?

My heart was pounding quite audibly, at least to me, by the time the next message arrived in my inbox. Mason started clapping again.

To: ~*~Lily-bear~*~
From: Brian ((rockstar))

tired. although i like kids, they can get to you. just got a new job as a teacher, to say the least, it's interesting. what do u do?

To: Brian ((rockstar))
From: ~*~Lily-bear~*~

I had no idea how to reply. I really hadn't thought passed my name – Lily Reynolds – so, I didn't know anything about my other life.

I turned toward Mason, who was also reading my messages. He looked deep in thought. “What do I do?”

“You're a doctor,” he offered, grinning at the thought of me being a doctor.

I slapped his arm. “Be serious.”

“Alright. How about a babysitting job?”

I thought about it, but shook my head. “Too simple. It probably wouldn't be a job. What about a daycare center?”

He smiled. “Yeah. That'll work. And you work at a bar on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays 4 o'clock to 6 o'clock.”

I rolled my eyes as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Of course you just had to add that in, didn't you? I don't want to work in a b-”

“He's waiting,” Mason replied sweetly, fluttering his eyelashes at me.

I huffed and wrote the reply.

i run a daycare center with my friend sam. i know all about kids. :) i also work at a bar on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays from 4 - 6.

To: ~*~Lily-bear~*~
From: Brian ((rocker))

sounds tiring. :) at least u don't have to babysit high school kids. but, they arent that bad, and kind of entertaining. u have no idea.

I smirked as I replied once more.

To: Brian ((rocker))
From: ~*~Lily-bear~*~

i think i might. ;) i gotta go, so i'll talk to you later. i'll try and figure out all this myspace crap, haha.

I hastily logged off my account and leaned back in my chair. I sighed to myself and it came out in a choked, ragged breath. Mason laughed and leaned back beside me.

I closed my eyes and prayed to God that for the sake of my sanity and on behalf of my life, he won't find out anything.