Impossible Is Possible

“I can’t believe they already found a replacement for that old hag,” Roxanne mutters from her and Daniella’s position around the corner of the classroom. “Dude, I was hoping for like, a month of a free period. This shit sucks.”

“Oh, come on,” Daniella laughs. “Maybe we lucked out and got a cool teacher that doesn’t care about anything—like late slips since we’re about two seconds from getting one.”

Just as she said it, the late bell rings throughout the empty hallway and Daniella sighs, starting off towards the classroom down the hall a ways. She looks over her shoulder in time to see Roxanne backing off down a different hallway.

“Get your ass over here!” she hisses at the redhead. “You’re not getting another detention. Mrs. Frank is going to have a field-day because she can suspend you for so many cuts.”

“If I could only get that lucky.”

“Don’t make me come after you.”

“What are you going to do? Pull me by my hair as I kick and scream bloody murder?”

Daniella raises her eyebrow at Roxanne’s statement. “Don’t tempt me.”

After stomping her foot and pouting, Roxanne finally walks the distance between the two of them, so that they could get to the classroom at the same time. The entire mere seconds of a walk, Roxanne complains about English Literature, but Daniella just tunes her out.

When they reach the door, Daniella reaches out to turn the knob, but quickly finds out that the door was locked. “See! Look what you did! You and your constant rebellion made us get locked out!”

“Oh, I’m now a rebel,” Roxanne says excitably. “Okay, let me continue my rebellious ways and get the hell out while I still can—“

“No. You’re going to fix this, now.”

Roxanne grumbles and turns back towards the door. She lifts up a fist and pounds it into the door over and over again. “Yo! Let me in! I’m a student and willing to learn!” she looks back at Daniella, who is smiling in amusement. “There? Did I fix it?”

“I don’t know? Did you—“

“Can I help you, ladies?”

Daniella’s eyes widen at the sight of a familiar face—she gasps loudly and stares with her mouth parted. “You—“

“Yes, me,” the man says as he leans against the frame of the door with his arms crossed over his chest. The sleeves of his button down shirt were rolled up, showing off a bit of a colorful tattoo on his forearm. He glances over at Roxanne, who is beyond oblivious. Smiling, he says, “Ah, nice to see you sober.”

“Bro,” Roxanne says, bluntly and curls her lip up. “Do I know you?”

Shoving her elbow hard into Roxanne’s ribs, Daniella purses her lips. She rubs a hand over her face—which is beet red in embarrassment. “Remember story I told you about the guy who helped you Friday night?” she hisses venomously. “That’s him.”

“Oh my God,” Roxanne says excitably, her eyes lighting up. “You’re my kidnapper! Dude, I don’t even remember that night—but from what she’s told me, I like, thought the bartender was the father of my unborn child and—“

“Okay!” Daniella interjects, grabbing onto Roxanne’s backpack. “I think that’s enough. I’m sure he doesn’t need to know that.”

They manage to make their way past the man, into the classroom, and into their seats. The entire time, their classmates stare at them in bewilderment, but quickly look away when Roxanne narrows her eyes menacingly.

“Okay, class,” the man says and takes a seat upon the mahogany desk. “Where was I—oh, I’m replacing Mrs. Hallman as your English Literacy teacher. I’m horrible at these types introductions—just call me Brendon. Calling me Mr. Urie makes me feel much older than I actually am.”

“How old are you exactly?” a student asks.

“I don’t think that really matters,” the man, Brendon says with a smile. “But, if you must know, I’m twenty-two.”

“Aren’t you kind of young to be a teacher?” Roxanne says sarcastically. “I think this will affect my learning abilities if my teacher is too young to tell me right from wrong.”

Daniella mistaking laughs too loudly, having to quickly cover the sound with a wheezing cough.

Brendon smiles even wider and leans back across the desk, rest him weight on the palms of his hands. “I can already tell your going to be quite the troublemaker, huh?”

“Oh, my heart, it can’t take your overwhelming love.”

As fast as she can, before the laughter that bubbles from her throat can be heard, Daniella hits her head on the desk top in front of her—her body shaken from the amount of laughter she’s trying to keep in.

“If anyone thinks that my age will effect their ‘learning abilities’, I’ll have you know, I graduated early from high school and became top of my class at UNLV,” Brendon says proudly, smirking when Roxanne snaps her mouth shut and slouches down into her chair. “But, anyway! I want to know more about you guys.”

He gets up and pulls out the chair from behind his desk and places it at the front of the room. “I want everyone to move their chairs into a circle so that we can all see each other and hear what each other have to say about themselves.”

Quietly, everyone in the room arranges themselves in a circle. Evidently, Daniella somehow manages to get the spot where her desk in directly across the circle in front of Brendon’s chair with Roxanne right there at her side.

“Great!” he says and straddles his chair backwards. “I’ll start it off. As I already said, I’m Brendon Urie. I graduated UNLV top in my class. If I wasn’t an English Lit teacher, I’d probably still be teaching guitar lessons down at the Youth Center—but that doesn’t pay quite as good as this gig… well, being a teacher doesn’t pay all that well, either.”

A small round of laughter erupts in the classroom.

Slowly, but surely, Daniella’s classmates state their names and things they like to do outside of school. She half-listens to them; most of her attention is centered on her new teacher. Something itches under her skin as she looks at him. She doesn’t know if it’s the way he carries his self, or how goes about speaking to her classmates as if they were not just his students, but new friends.

“How about you?”

Daniella startles and looks around the circle to find almost everyone looking at her impatiently. She clears her throat and sits up straighter. “Uh, I’m Daniella Romone, but I prefer Dani. I like photography and lattes from Starbucks. And… that’s pretty much it.”

“I see,” Brendon says softly. “Photography and lattes—got it. How about you?” he looks over at Roxanne, who looks like she’s drowning in a sea of complete boredom. “Who are you?” he asks with a hint of a knowing smirk.

“Roxanne Burns—call me Roxanne and I will cut you. It’s not my fault my mother had a huge thing for The Police before I was born. I’m just suffering from it.”

Brendon looks taken back, then raises an eyebrow. “But, The Police is such a great band.”

“Maybe for you, but I personally don’t like have my name associated with the lines: Roxanne, you don’t have to put on that red light. Walk the streets for money. You don’t care if it’s wrong of if it is right.”

“Ah, touché.”

“Touché indeed, Brendon.”

The cycle starts again; students naming themselves off and describing everything from their after-school jobs to about their home life. As it continues, Daniella just sits there with her head resting in the palm of her hand as she doodles on the margin of her notebook. Stars and swirls circling along the day’s date—October 11th—and Daniella become memorized by the ink that bleeds from her ball point pen. She starts turning out everything and starts to feel herself falling into a dream-like trance.

The final school bell shakes her out of her daydreaming, and Daniella jumps up and grabs her tote bag, but having to shake Roxanne awake in order for the other girl to get up, so that they can head out.

“Thanks, class,” Brendon says and stretches his arms behind him, shaking his arms awake. “I’ll try to remember everything you guys have said—along with your names—and I’ll try to incorporate them into an assignment we can do to start off the new curriculum.” He pauses and watches as Daniella and a half-asleep Roxanne make their way towards the door. “Actually, Daniella and Rox, can you two stay with me for a few moments? I have to talk to you two.”

A round of obnoxious oh’s sounded off in the nearly empty classroom, causing Roxanne to glare and oh back sarcastically.

“Shut the hell up,” she says. “Obviously, you guys have no lives or you would be gone already.”

That makes the teenagers move out of the room faster.

Behind his desk, Brendon starts shoving folders and a thick notebook into his shoulder bag. He looks up and shakes his head in amusement. “This has nothing to do with schoolwork,” he says and rolls his eyes. “But, I thought I’d bring it up—I have nothing against teenage drinking as long as they do it within a contained area like at a house or something—I mean, you only live once right? But, I don’t want to have to be the ‘helper’ if I see you two again.”

“Aye, aye, el capitán,” Roxanne says with a tired salute and starts off towards the door. “If were done with the lecture, I’d like to go home and sleep.”

“Yeah, get out of my classroom,” Brendon says with a laugh and shoos them away. As Roxanne makes it past the barrier and into the hall, he clears his throat and raises an eyebrow at Daniella. “You seem like the responsible in the little duo you two have. Just be careful with her, okay? Not many people are going to be as nice as I was that night.”

Daniella’s face heats up and she ducks her head in embarrassment. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”