Pencil, Paper and Passion.

I knocked on Mr. Gallagher's classroom door after school and waited impatiently for him to open it. I considered just walking in, but, who knew what he could possibly be doing? So, I stood, scowling at his door.

Suddenly, the door swung open and Mr. Gallagher's frowning face filled my vision. I lifted an eyebrow when he only stood in the doorway, staring at me. "Well, are you going to make me stand in the hallway or do you want your closet organized?"

His frown intensified, but he stepped back, allowing me to enter the classroom. I walked to a desk in fthe front row, dumping my bag in the seat and my phone on the desk as I turned around to look at Mr. Gallagher. He shut the door before he spoke, "Alright, Elizabeth, let's get started."

He gestured to another door, at the back of the classroom, and motioned for me to follow him as he started towards it. Mr. Gallagher opened the supply closet door. I leaned around him and gasped. I turned disbelieving eyes on Mr. Gallagher. "You actually expect me to have that organized in one month?! I'd be lucky to get it done within the year!"

He lifted an eyebrow and I shook my head vehemently, "Oh, no, no way. If it's not done in a month, you're on your own."

Without waiting for a reply, I stepped into the closet and surveyed the mess around me. Mr. Gallagher had said it looked as though things had been haphazardly thrown in. Massive understatement, I thought in wry amusement.

It looked as if an explosion had gone off; papers everywhere, boxes tipped over, shattered glass and...I shuddered...what looked to be spider webs in every available spot. I turned hard eyes on Mr. Gallagher. "One spider," I warned. "And I'll let Mr. Avery suspend me."

Mr. Gallagher laughed. "I can't guarantee that you won't come across at least one or two, Elizabeth. But, if you do, give a yell and I'll come kill it."

I rolled my eyes. "My hero." Turning back around, I pursed my lips. "Where's the best place to get started? Spider webs." I stated, answering myself. I asked Mr. Gallagher, "Is there a broom?"

His own lips pursed, he scanned the large closet before stepping in from the doorway and reaching out. His hand closed on a faintly green stick and he tugged, unearthing an old-fashioned broom with a cry of triumph. Grinning, Mr. Gallagher held out the broom, handle pointed towards me. "Here. You know, those spiders won't be happy about you tearing down their homes..."

I gave him an arch look as I took the broom. "I don't expect they'll be any happier when I squish them, either, but it's still going to happen."

He gave me an odd look as I quickly dispensed with the webs. "You didn't grow up in the public school system, did you?"

I frowned, confused, and set the broom aside. "Yes, actually, I did. Why would you assume that I hadn't?"

"You don't speak like a normal teenage girl. You sound ten years older than you actually are." Mr. Gallagher tilted his head curiously. "Where do you suppose you got it from?"

I shrugged, squatting down to pick up loose paper. "From my private tutors and nannies, I expect. My mother informed them that I was to be brought up as an intelligent, politely behaved young woman."

He grimaced. "That sounds awfully boring."

I shook my head, smiling suddenly. "No, not all the time. Every now and then, my dad would dismiss whichever tutor or nanny I had that day, and we'd go sliding down the banisters or he'd take me out for ice cream."

Mr. Gallagher laughed. "That sounds fun. Do you two still slide down the banisters?"

I shook my head again, my smile turning sad. "No, my dad in a plane crash, about four years ago."

"I'm sorry." He said quickly. "I didn't mean to-"

"No." I interrupted. "Don't be. I had fourteen great years with my dad. I'm thankful for them and sad that I won't have more, but I can't be sorry. Everything happens for a reason."

Mr. Gallagher stared at me as I continued to stack the loose papers together. "You must be a very strong person, Elizabeth."

I grinned. "No, I'm not. I'm a reasonable person. If it hadn't been my dad's time to go, he wouldn't have died. I mean, yeah, it hurts and I suspect that it always will, but there's nothing I can do to change it." I shrugged. "Life goes on. I don't intend to wallow in bad memories and let it go on without me."

"Hm. Like I said, you're a very strong person. Not many people, especially someone as young as you are, would have that outlook."

"I'm like, five years younger than you are, Mr. Gallagher. I'm not that young. Besides, not every high school girl needs constant drama and teen angst to propel them through to graduation."

Mr. Gallagher burst out laughing. "Weren't you the one who got in a fight in the lunch room today?"

I blushed, frowning at him. "Yeah, but she hit me first, remember? I may be a reasonable person most of the time, but I wasn't just going to let her get away with that."

He shook his head. "You know, you came across as very quiet and controlled in class yesterday and today. It was very surprising finding out that you had hit Danielle." He grimaced, "Not that I blame you, what with her incessant whining. I only have to deal with her for fifty-five minutes a day and, already, I'm considering flunking her. Just to give her something meaningful to whine about."

My eyes widened. "Mr. Gallagher, I'm pretty sure teachers aren't allowed to say things like that. Especially about their students."

"Why? Are you going to tattle on me, Elizabeth?" He regarded me in amusement. "I'll deny it if you do."

I shook my head. "I won't say anything. Besides, the way I see it, Danielle deserves every mean comment ever said about her. And," I continued, grinning. "You won't have to flunk her. She'll get there all on her own."

Mr. Gallagher grinned. "This kind of talk definitely doesn't fit your image."

"I have an image?" I gave him a blank stare.I didn't, did I? I mean, sure, I usually always wore something with lace on it, but I didn't have any particular everyday style.

He nodded. "Sort of old-fashioned, but not plain or boring."

I looked down at my black dress with the capped, lace sleeves and said blandly. "My clothing usually reflects my mood."

Belatedly, I realized I'd stopped cleaning and was sitting cross-legged on the floor. Mr. Gallagher was also eying my outfit. "Feeling a little somber today, were you?"

I tugged the hem of my dress over my bent knees. "Yeah, I guess."

"Teen angst?" He asked teasingly.

"No, just a little depression. My best friend, Charlotte, has been at home with the flu." I frowned. "She's missed both the first and second day of school. Hopefully, she'll be back tomorrow."

"Charlotte Foster?"

"Yeah!" I said, surprised. "How did you know?"

"Her mother called today and transferred her into my class. Coincidentally, it's first period, Chemistry II."

I grinned. "Yes! She said she was thinking about switching. Now I won't be so lonely without Brandt."

"The one that called you a twit?" Mr. Gallagher stared at me as if I were crazy.

"Yeah," I laughed, then hastened to explain. "Brandt and I have this bet going on. I know I seem quiet and calm, but I tend to lose my temper easily; hence today's scene in the cafeteria. Anyway, he's been calling me bad names, or honestly, he's just been irritating me in any possible way for about three months. Every time I lose my temper and yell at him, I owe him one hundred dollars."

Mr. Gallagher's expression didn't change. "How much do you owe him so far?"

I grimaced. "A couple thousand dollars. I have to pay him before the New Year, so I'll probably just give it to him as a Christmas present."

"A couple thou-?!" His eyes widened and he stared at me, seemingly shocked. "You're actually going to pay him?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I don't shirk my bets and I do need to learn to control my temper." I slanted him a look. "If I hadn't lost my temper today, you wouldn't be stuck with me for a whole month."

"True," He conceded. Then he smiled slyly. "But, if you hadn't lost your temper today, I'd be cleaning out this closet all by myself."

"Well," I said languidly, looking around the closet as I leaned back, my palms resting flat on the ground behind me. "I don't seem to be doing much cleaning, actually."

"Now, whose fault is that?"

I snorted. "I don't know. Yours?" Tilting my head, I smiled at him. "You know, for a teacher, you're awfully chatty. Most other teachers don't pay any attention to the students they keep after school."

"'Chatty'? I'm not 'chatty'. Old ladies with a dozen cats are 'chatty'." Mr. Gallagher said in mock offense. "I'm merely an expert conversationalist."

Laughing, I shook my head. "Nope, you are definitely chatty."

He opened his mouth to respond just as an odd rattling sound emerged from the classroom. Confused, we stared at each other for a few seconds before it hit me. Jumping up, I cried, "My phone! Crap, I forgot to text my mom. I'll bet that's her."

I ran from the supply closet, straight to the desk in the front row, and snatched up my shivering phone. Without checking the caller I.D., I pressed talk on the touch screen. When it continued to vibrate, I cursed, tapping talk again. "Dammit! Oh! Hello?"

"Goddammit, Eliza!"

I groaned as Charlotte's angry voice resounded through my head. "Charles, if you'll let me-"

"You ditched me! How could you?! I'm sick and you ditched me!"

"You've every right to be angry, but let me explain. Charles, I'm-"

"A rotten little ginger kid!"

"Hey! Now, that was just mean. I didn't ditch you, so shut up for a minute, Charlotte Ann, and I'll tell you where I am." I waited for a few moments, then, satisfied with her silence, went on, "Now, I hope you weren't to attached to Danielle?"

Charlotte let out a breath and said, "It depends. What'd you do to her and what'd she do to you to instigate it?"

"I suppose it was really my fault...no, I should start at the beginning." I shoved my bag out of the desks seat and sat down as it landed on the floor with a dull thud. I heard footsteps and I looked up, watching as Mr. Gallagher left the supply closet and walked towards me, an eyebrow lifted in question. I rolled my eyes and mouthed, Charlotte. I continued to talk into the phone. "Alright, now let's see..."

I told her the events of the day, stopping every few seconds to listen to her outrage on my behalf. When I finished, I said easily, "So, I'm sitting here at the school with Mr. Gallagher, which, I guess is going to be the norm for a while."

"You have to be there during lunch too?" Charlotte sounded torn. "You know, I'm going back and forth here. On one hand, you're super lucky to get to spend all that time with Mr. Sexy."

I felt my cheeks heat and I glanced at Mr. Gallagher. He was leaning against another desk, frowning at the floor. Suddenly, he reached down and picked up a notebook that somebody must have left behind. I looked away when his eyes strayed to me, slumped down in the desk, cheeks flaming. I spoke into the phone, in a warning tone. "Charles..."

"What? Can't I give him a nickname?"

"I guess...just don't let him hear it." I warned, sighing. I snuck another peak at Mr. Gallagher. He held the notebook open in his hands and was smiling down at it in obvious amusement. I wondered absently what it said.

Charlotte's voice drew my attention away from Mr. Gallagher. "Duh, Eliza. Anyway, like I was saying. You're super lucky on one hand but on the other...detention sucks and I'm freaking peeved that you're not going to be at lunch for a month."

"I know. But hey, look on the bright side; In about five minutes, I'll only have thirty more school days left serving detention."

"I guess," She grumbled. Then, I heard her gasp, saying chokedly, "I'll call you back later."

The line went dead and pulled the phone from my ear, frowning at it. "Damn."

"Is she angry with you?" Mr. Gallagher's voice brought my head up and I shook my head, saying, "No. Well, she was at first, but I explained everything."

"Then why were you cursing?" He brought up a hand and raked his fingers through his dark-brown hair, making it stand up slightly. I watched as a few strand settled back into place.

"Huh?" I blinked, caught up in him. Then, scowling, I thought, *It should be illegal for anyone this sexy to be a high school teacher. It's just not fair.*

"Elizabeth?"

"Oh, um, she got sick again." I mentally slapped myself. *No! Bad Eliza! He is your teacher!* "I'm worried she won't be at school tomorrow. Plus, she's probably eating nothing but crackers, so I'm also worried about her getting dehydrated..."

Mr. Gallagher laughed. "I'm sure she's fine, Elizabeth." Then, he held up the notebook and his smile turned wicked. I stared at him warily, asking hesitantly, "I'm going to take a wild guess here...but, uh, is that notebook going to incriminate someone?"

"Why, yes, Elizabeth, it is." He continued to grin and flipped open the notebook. His voice amused, he started reading. "'Ticket Out Of Detention: One: Pretend to be sick...go home early.'"

I gasped and my cheeks flamed. My list, my mind cried. My stupid, childish, joke of a list! I stammered, "M-Mr. Gallagher..."

"'Two: Stairs equal a broken leg and/or arm.'"

"Mr. Gallagher! That list was a joke!"

"'Three: Pens can be used as weapons (especially on tyrannical, torturous, teachers named Gallagher).'"

"I was angry! I didn't mean any-"

"'Four: So can-'"

"Mr. Gallagher!" I shouted, jumping up from my seat and attempting to snatch the notebook from his hands. He laughed, holding it above his head. "What? Afraid I'll use it against you?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "I refuse to play this game with you. It's immature and not at all proper between a student and teacher."

A frown pulled at the corners of his lips and he dropped his arm, lowering the notebook. "You're right. I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I didn't mean to-"

"Hah!" I sprang at him, my hands outstretched. Immediately, he whipped the notebook behind his back. Unfortunately, my momentum carried me long after I stopped springing and I collided with Mr. Gallagher's chest. Laughing, we crashed into a desk and would have fallen had he not dropped the notebook, grabbing my arms. Mr. Gallagher steadied us, saying. "Jesus, Elizabeth, if you want me that bad, just ask! You'd save us both from injury."

I tried to sound disapproving but trying to control my laughter put a hitch in my voice. "Mr. Gallagher! You shouldn't say such things to a student!"

We erupted into fresh peals of laughter, leaning against one another, and a desk, so as not to fall. When our laughter quieted, he said, "We've got to move. If another teacher comes in..."

I sighed as he trailed off. I honestly did not want to move away from him. He was warm and his grey sweater felt soft against my bare arms. I closed my eyes. No, I definitely did not want to move. In fact, I wanted to move close-

My eyes snapped open and I straightened my spine, taking two steps back. I looked at Mr. Gallagher in shock. His face was grim, but his eyes also held shock...and something entirely different. I caught a glimpse of warmth and longing before his expression became shuttered. I swallowed, forcing words past my numb lips. "Mr. Gallagher. I-I don't know what- Well, I mean-"

"Elizabeth, shut up."

I flinched at his harsh tone and my eyes widened even more. "E-Excuse me?"

"I said, shut up. We're going to forget this ever happened, understand?" He turned and reached down, picking up my notebook.

I dropped my eyes when he straightened and mumbled a quiet thanks when he handed me the notebook. Feeling awkward, I glanced at the clock on the wall and wasn't surprised to realize that I could have left ten minutes before. I turned my head towards Mr. Gallagher but kept my eyes on a point beyond his shoulder as I spoke with forced brightness. "Well, my times up, so I'm going to go now. I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Gallagher."

"Alright, Elizabeth. See you." His voice was quiet and I thought I heard a trace of regret. I could feel his eyes on me as I picked up my bag and stuffed the notebook inside. I shoved my phone in as well and pulled out my keys while I was at it. I sent a vague smile in Mr. Gallagher's direction. "Bye."

I hurried out of the classroom and into the deserted hallway. Even all the teachers seemed to be gone, even though it was only 4:15 p.m. I left the school building, walking straight to my car in the parking lot. I pressed the unlock button on my keys and opened the door, sliding in behind the wheel and tossing my bag in the passenger seat.

I stared blankly through the windshield. Mr. Gallagher expected me to forget what had happened? Was he completely freaking nuts?

How could I forget the warmth of his body against mine? Or how his eyes crinkled at the corners and twin dimples winked out when he laughed? I shook myself. No, Eliza! You'll forget because he is your teacher! He is off limits! Taboo! Completely forbidden!

Besides, I told myself as I started the car and left the school. You've only known him for a couple of days. It's not like you're losing your best friend.

My brain seemed to understand, but my heart remembered the quick connection between Mr. Gallagher and I, and tried to latch on.

No, I mentally said to Mr. Gallagher. The only thing I'm likely to forget is that you're my teacher.

My hands tightened on the steering wheel and I scolded myself. But I will not forget. I will not fall into a cliche'. And I most certainly will not allow Mr. Gallagher to wrap himself around my heart.

Even as I told myself these things, I couldn't help but feel that the balance of student and teacher had shifted between us. And I had no idea if would turn out to be a good thing, or something bad.