Lawn Boy

My classes weren’t all that bad and neither were my teachers. The other students were pretty nice for the most part. There were a few people here and there that kind of looked down their noses at me, but I tried not to pay attention to those people.
My first class of the day was Algebra two. My teacher was Mr. Neil. He was middle aged with a receding hairline and a deep monotone voice. I also met the girl that happened to be sitting next to me. Her name was Veronica and she was bubbly and bright eyed with bouncy brown hair, fair skin, and a luminous smile.
In my second class — civics — I met a small girl with light brown colored hair and hazel eyes. She was kind of odd. No, odd isn’t the right word. She was more eclectic than odd. Her name was Colleen.
But I was the most comfortable in English, as usual. My teacher was Mr. Perkins who was a young teacher. He looked as if he was in his late twenties or early thirties. He was very handsome with strong features. His hair was brown verging on red and he had a five o’ clock shadow. And he worked out. I could tell. His button up long sleeve shirt was tight around his biceps and his chest. I think hot was an understatement when it came to Mr. Perkins.
Also in the English class was Asher. There was a seat available that was right next to him, so I took it. The seats were bunched up in groups of four, facing each other. I sat on a desk that was across from Asher and facing him.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Hey,” he said.
“So, I’m new here. Is this guy nice?” I asked.
“I’ve heard he’s pretty cool. He’s been voted teacher of the year a couple times,” said Asher.
“If you’re new here — how do you know each other?” asked the girl next to Asher. She had black hair and green eyes and her skin was badly tanned.
“He’s friends with my cousin,” I said. “Not like it’s any of your business.”
“Excuse me,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, maybe you should sit somewhere else, Irena. Maybe like somewhere people actually care about what you say,” said Asher.
She sighed, picked up her bag and left to another group of desks.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Irena Black — the richest girl in school and a first class bitch,” said Asher. “Everyone only pretends to like her so she’ll invite them to her lavish parties and glamorous get-togethers. I could care less about those, so I don’t give her the time of day. But, she’s had a crush on me since the eighth grade, but bitch isn’t really my type.”
I smiled. He amused me. He didn’t seem as shy as he was when he was with everyone else. He even seemed a bit — I don’t know — gossipy. I’ve never met another guy that was as gossipy as I was. I personally loved gossip. Maybe he’s….No.
Mr. Perkins started the class and I was a bit disappointed that I couldn’t talk to Asher anymore.
“Hello class, I’m Mr. Perkins and I’d like to welcome you to English twelve. Now, if I can explain the desk arrangement. I know this might seem like you’re in the fourth grade again, but I reassure you that this setup will make your experience in this class a lot simpler.
“I assign a lot of group work and discussions in this class, so I hope you like the people sitting around you because they’re gonna be your group for the rest of the school year. I’d like to start by asking a question. What does poetry mean to you?”
I like this class already.