Pencil, Paper and Passion.

The next few weeks passed quickly as summer slipped away. I automatically looked out the window and stared blankly when I found myself gazing at a messy shelf, instead. A scowl furrowed my brow and I turned my head to glare at the doorway of Mr. Gallagher's supply closet. I was sitting on the floor in the middle of the closet, filing the loose papers I had picked up two weeks before. I didn't even know if he wanted the damn papers filed.

I didn't know because Mr. Gallagher and I weren't speaking, at all. He didn't even call out on me in class. Everyday, when I came to organize his stupid closet during lunch and after school, he'd sit at his desk grading or making assignments. In an unspoken agreement, we had decided to completely ignore one another in an attempt to pretend nothing had happened between us.

I frowned, shoving more papers into the filing box before I stood up. Groaning, I leaned backwards, stretching my back. I pulled my phone from my jeans pocket and checked the time. 4:05; I could leave. I bent over and picked up the filing box to put it on one of the already crowded shelves. This was the sixth box I'd filled with papers and I glanced around the closet with a grimace, knowing I'd be filling at least six more.

Sighing, I checked my phone again, but this time for any texts or missed phone calls just as my phone started vibrating. I checked the screen: Brandt Baby ;P flashed and I rolled my eyes before answering. "Hey, baby. When did you change your name in my contacts?"

"Like, a week ago. You and Charles were playing Uno at lunch and your phone was on the table. I took advantage of the opportunity." Brandt said nonchalantly, as if it were okay to steal others belongings.

Again, I rolled my eyes. "Jerk. Why are you calling anyway?"

"When do you think you'll be home? I don't want to get there before you." Once a month, Brandt, Charlotte, Micah and I convened at my house to consume copious amounts of junk food and to scare ourselves with an all-night horror movie marathon. It was the second Friday in September and after my little spat with Danielle, we weren't even sure it was going to happen.

I grinned, thrilled to hear that our monthly terror binge was still on. "I'll probably be there in thirty or forty minutes. I'm about to leave the school, now. Are Charles and Micah coming, too?"

"Yeah, they're sitting here with me." Brandt said.

"Where is 'here'?"

"Starbucks. Hey, do you want anything?"

"Hm. Oh! Yeah, get a couple dozen Tiramisu Cake Pops."

"'Couple dozen'? That's like, thirty dollars. Without tax."

"I'll pay you for them when you get here, okay?"

"Fine, it's your money. Those things are gross, by the way." He pretended to gag into the phone.

"Wrong, darling boy. They are delicious and I love them. The only thing better than a Tiramisu Cake Pop, is a Chocolate Tiramisu Torte. Either way, I get my Tiramisu fix." I was addicted to Tiramisu. For over a year, I'd eaten it whenever I could. I glanced down at my flat stomach and sent a silent thanks up to my father, whose quick metabolism I had inherited.

"You need Tiramisu rehab, Eliza." Brandt stated flatly. "This addiction is getting out of hand. Plus," He said with actual worry, "It's definitely not healthy."

I laughed. "Brandt, I'm fine. I haven't dropped dead yet, so stop worrying."

"Yeah, whatever. Hey, weren't you supposed to be leaving the school?"

"Yes, but you distracted me." I glanced at the doorway and nearly gasped in surprise. Mr. Gallagher stood, staring at me. I spoke into the phone. "So, I'll see you in a bit. Don't forget my Tiramisu. You'll regret it if you do, Brandt."

Mr. Gallagher lifted an eyebrow at my threatening tone, amusement flitting swiftly across his face as I tapped 'End' on my phone. I said hesitantly, "I'm, uh, leaving now."

"I gathered that." His eyes roved over the supply closet. I swallowed, knowing he'd see that I wasn't even half way done; not because I'm lazy or defiant, but because there was simply too much to clean. His eyes returned to me. "You aren't going to be able to finish this in two weeks. Not without help."

I brightened. "I'm sure Charlotte and Brandt would help me, if I asked. Well, I know Charles would. I'd probably have to bribe Brandt."

Mr. Gallagher was shaking his head. "This is a punishment, Elizabeth. Besides, I've seen you and Charlotte together in class. You wouldn't get anything done."

"Yeah, I didn't think about that." I said awkwardly, blushing. Charlotte and I were always doing the opposite of what we were supposed to be doing. We didn't slack off, per se, but we didn't always get our work done in class, so most of the time, we just did it as homework. But, taking it home to finish wouldn't work in this situation. The supply closet needed to be clean in two weeks and if Charlotte and I were on the job together, it would probably only be messier by then.

"Hm. I'll help during lunch, but after school, you're on your own."

I blinked, surprised. Not only had Mr. Gallagher broken our two week silence, but now he was offering to help me? What the hell was wrong with him? "Are you, uh, feeling okay, Mr. Gallagher?"

"What?" He looked at me blankly and I scratched my elbow, uncomfortable. I said hesitantly, "Um, well, we haven't even spoken to each other in two weeks. Why now?"

I watched as his lips flattened into a tight line. He looked at me. "You're my student, Elizabeth. Eventually, people will notice that I'm not treating you as such."

"Oh...yeah." I dropped my head and stared at the floor, my cheeks flaming at what I was about to say. "But, Mr. Gallagher, do you really think it's a better idea to work on the closet, together?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"B-because of what happened before... You know, the reason we weren't speaking in the first place?"

He was silent for a full minute, but I didn't dare look up. I was too embarrassed. Mr. Gallagher had told me to forget about what had happened and here I was, bringing it up and out into the open.

"Elizabeth," Mr. Gallagher's voice was soft. "Look at me."

I shook my head furiously. He sighed and, suddenly, I felt his long fingers cupping my chin, bringing my face up, so my eyes would meet his. I tried to look away but his fingers only tightened, holding me in place. When he'd gained my attention, he said flatly, "You are my student. I am your teacher. That's all."

He let go of my face and straightened. "Besides, nothing really happened anyway. We had a good laugh, but that's it."

I stared at him, disbelieving. Nothing happened? I wasn't positive, but I was pretty sure most teachers didn't tease their students as Mr. Gallagher had teased me, with the notebook.

Most students didn't throw themselves at their teacher, either, I scolded myself. But, then again, in my defense, he'd brought it on himself. He had been teasing me about that stupid list. I'd had to do something. But, he was also very right. I was his student, he my teacher.

So, I stared at Mr. Gallagher and said, "I understand. I'm sorry, Mr. Gallagher, I won't bring it up again." Edging around him, I left the supply closet. "See you on Monday, sir."

"Eliz-"

"I've really got to go. I'm going to be late." I hurried to the desk in the front row, where I always dropped my things when I came in, and scooped up my phone and bag. Tossing a wave behind me, I left the classroom and scurried out of the school, into the parking lot. When I reached my car, I quickly pulled my keys from my jeans pocket and unlocked the doors. I slid in behind the wheel and started the car before pulling out of the nearly empty parking lot.

On the way home, I tried to keep my mind carefully blank. I didn't want to think about Mr. Gallagher, because he said nothing had happened. And he was right. Nothing really had happened.

Just a good laugh, I thought hollowly. That was it. That was all it could be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I pulled into my driveway, I cursed. Brandt's car sat in my usual place and Brandt, Charlotte, and Micah sat on the steps leading to the house, all of them scowling. I quickly killed my engine and climbed from the car, leaving my things behind, saying, "I'm sorry, guys. It couldn't be helped."

"Whatever." Charlotte said, sullenly.

"Come on, I'm like, five minutes late."

"Ten." Micah corrected, but he was smiling. "It's not that big a deal."

I smiled back. "Thanks, Mic. Since these two want to sit and pout, why don't we go inside and start the marathon?"

"Alright. Sounds good to me." He said, standing and picking up a dark-blue duffel bag. I knew it held everything he'd need to stay the night. I turned to Charlotte and Brandt. "When you guys feel like joining us, just ring the bell."

I linked arms with Micah and started up the steps slowly, waiting. I grinned when I heard Charlotte swear and Brandt practically growl. Turning, I raised an eyebrow at them. "Are you coming, then?"

"Yeah." They chorused, then glared at each other.

I continued to smile. "Let's get moving then." Suddenly, I frowned. "Brandt, where are my Cake Pops?"

"In the car." He said, picking up his own bag. "I'm going inside, get them yourself."

"Fine, I'll lock the doors while I'm at it." I jogged down the steps to Brandt's car and opened the door. I immediately spotted the two Starbucks bags sitting in the middle console and grabbed them, grinning in anticipation. I pressed the lock button and shut the door. Turning, I jogged back up the steps and entered my house, heading to my bedroom, where I knew my three best friends would be camped out, already gorging themselves on sugar and carbohydrates.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Monday morning, I awoke, groaning. It felt as though someone had stuffed my head with cotton and thumbtacks. I knew I was getting sick, and swore, fluently, as I climbed from my bed. I stumbled to the bathroom dropping clothing along the way and climbed into the shower stall. I turned the heat on full blast and leaned against the tiled wall, letting the steam clear my head.

My mother still hadn't returned from the Hamptons and I knew she probably wouldn't return for a few weeks. I sighed and picked up my shampoo, preparing to wash my hair. I went through the rest of my shower quickly, remembering that I had school. I climbed out and grabbed two towels, wrapping one around my body and used the other to dry my hair.

I went into my bedroom and dressed swiftly, slipping on a pair of dark, semi-skinny jeans and a black and white, striped hoodie. Feeling lazy, I ran a comb through my hair and pulled it into a messy bun atop my head. I grabbed a pair of white Toms and left my bedroom, not bothering with makeup of any kind. I descended the steps and jogged into the kitchen for an apple or something. Automatically, I glanced at the clock on the stove then stopped, a little dazed. Either I'd taken a lot longer getting ready than I'd originally thought, or I'd slept in. According to the clock, first period was just starting at school.

I sighed and left the kitchen without bothering to grab the food I'd come in for and headed for the front door. I slipped on my shoes and grabbed my bag and keys, then walked out into the morning sun. Squinting, I loped down the front steps to my car. I climbed in and after thinking for a few minutes, pulled out of the drive, heading for Starbucks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I walked into first period just as Mr. Gallagher shouted, "Boom! And then you're dead!"

Startled, I dropped the coffee in my hand, my mind barely registering when it hit the floor, exploding. I looked at Mr. Gallagher in horror as hot coffee seeped into my thin, canvas shoes.

"Safety lesson," He said blandly, before his eyes dropped to the splattered coffee. I felt my face heat as my classmates started snickering. But, despite my embarrassment, I could feel a laugh of my own building. It was sort of funny. Then, as I took a step back, my shoe squished, audibly. I giggled and bent over to pick up the crushed Styrofoam cup and cracked, plastic lid. I walked to the trashcan, shoes squishing the entire way, and threw the cup and lid in before turning to Mr. Gallagher. "Should I go get the janitor or some paper towels?"

"Just get some paper towels. It'll be quicker." He instructed me, eyes gleaming with amusement. I nodded and headed to the back of the classroom, where Charlotte sat, grinning at me. I dropped my bag next to the desk by her's as she whispered, "Smooth move, Sinclair. Next time, why don't you just spill it down your shirt?"

I flipped her off, heading into the supply closet. I was reaching for a roll of paper towels sitting on a messy shelf near the door when Mr. Gallagher's voice sounded from outside the closet. "I saw that, Elizabeth. No obscene hand gestures in class, please."

I groaned silently as a new volley of laughter swept through the classroom. Scowling, I snatched up the paper towels and walked out of the closet. Charlotte gave me a thumbs up, mouthing, Good job, Eliza.

I rolled my eyes and made my back to the front of the classroom. I pulled a handful of paper towels from the roll and dropped them on the spilt coffee, using my feet to wipe up the mess.

"Why don't you bend over to clean that up, hon?" Ryan Laski asked from the center of the class. Ryan was the schools cliche`; star quarterback, hunky looks, raging douche and dumber than a box of rocks. He hit on anything in a skirt, but, for some reason, he seemed to be obsessed with my ass.

Without looking up from my task, I said conversationally, "You know, Ryan, your fascination with my butt could be perceived in many ways, but I only see one. As I'm not exactly voluptuous, I have to assume my butt resembles that of a gawky, teenaged boy." I looked up now and smiled sweetly. "If constantly commenting on my ass is your way of telling us all that you're gay, don't worry. We accept you."

The class erupted into hoots of laughter as Ryan flushed, sinking down in his seat and glaring at me. Proud of myself, I bent over and gathered the wet paper towels and threw them away. I went to my seat as Mr. Gallagher calmed the class down.

When I sat down, Charlotte bowed before popping back up and giving me a high-five. She grinned, "That, my darling friend, was awesome. Ryan Laski is never going to live this down."

I smiled back. "It was pretty great, even if I did insult myself in the process."

"You don't have a boy's ass, Eliza. You may be skinny, but you've got curves in all the right places. They're just not blatantly obvious, like mine." She said, rolling her eyes.

"Thanks, I think." I opened my mouth to say more, but Mr. Gallagher finally managed to quiet my classmates. His voice was stern when he said, "Elizabeth, Ryan, I'd like both of you to stay after class."

I gave Mr. Gallagher a thumbs up as Ryan said, "That's not fair. I'm the one who was insulted!"

"And why were you insulted, Ryan?" Mr. Gallagher asked calmly, walking to Ryan's desk.

"Oh, come on!"

"What you said is considered sexual harassment and I won't tolerate it in my classroom, Ryan."

Ryan stood up. "Fuck you! That bitch called me gay! Doesn't that matter?!"

A hushed silence fell over the class as Mr. Gallagher's eyes flashed. Restrained fury was in his every movement as he grabbed Ryan's arm and started pulling him to the door of the classroom. "Tonya! Watch the class."

A pretty girl with long, chestnut colored hair jumped up. "Yes, sir!"

He pulled a swearing Ryan from the room as Tonya scurried to the front of the classroom. She stood in front of Mr. Gallagher's desk and said awkwardly, "Um...talk amongst yourselves or something. Just don't get crazy, please."

I turned to Charlotte, wide eyed, as the class erupted into hushed whispers. Charlotte was grinning at me. "Freaking sweet!"

I didn't answer; I felt sick to my stomach. Ryan was going to get in a lot of trouble and he'd blame it entirely on me. And I had a feeling he wasn't going to be understanding, or 'use his words'. No, I had no doubt he was going to do everything in his power to make my life a living Hell. I just didn't know how and that's what scared me.