Tame Chapter 1

The next morning I got up an hour early and found myself in the bathroom staring at my reflection in the mirror. Dan’s comment about me being pretty and not beautiful had gotten to me.

Yesterday I spent an hour teaching him how he should approach a girl and all the things he shouldn’t do. I told him not to use any cheap pick up lines and talk to a girl like she was a person, which I know is something guys tend to have a problem doing. They either tease or belittle the girl, trying to be cute, or threw away their pride by glorifying them or overly praising them. It was very annoying. The only things guys needed to do was just talk to a girl she was a person.

Dan drove me home afterwards and we agreed that we would continue the lessons tomorrow and every day this week, except for Wednesday when I have the Art Club, and then on Friday we would put some of these lessons to use.

I went to bed last night thinking about what he said and I suppose his comment didn’t exit my mind in my sleep because it was the first thought that came to my mind this morning.

I grabbed my long black hair with my hands and pulled it back into a pony tail. I was staring at my reflection trying to figure out what it was I had to do to make myself appear beautiful and not pretty. I knew that if girl’s changed their hairstyles and wardrobe it would make them look older or younger, depending which one they were aiming for.

I dropped my hair down and draped it over my forehead the way those girl’s do it in those horror movies. I lowered my eyebrows, grimacing and startled myself with my own reflection. I imitated Heather’s little habit by twirling my hair around with my finger and raising my eyebrows in a way that looked seductive, but I felt silly and let my hair return to its natural state. I then put on a plain expression.

I didn’t understand what it was about the male gender. They only went for the pretty faces or the women with the great bodies. Couldn’t they look beyond a women’s appearance and except that there’s something prettier that’s inside of us that can’t be seen with their eyes? I was happy with the way that I looked. Why couldn’t everyone else like it too? Why did I have to change myself because society wants something better?

I wondered if Mr. Richwood thought I was beautiful. He didn’t appear to be interested in any of his students appearance, but I was certain that he was judging us unconsciously. It was just in a male’s nature to judge women based off the way that they looked.

I allowed my mind to take me back to that moment when he caught me in his arms. It made my heart tremble just thinking about it. I was slightly nervous about returning to his class, but at the same time I felt compelled to see him again.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to him or if I was going to be able to sustain eye contact with him. I didn’t care. I just wanted to see him again.

___________

When I arrived at Sigmund Freud High school I followed my usual routine and made my way to my locker. I was expecting the usual boring locker visit, but I was caught off guard when I opened my locker and a note fell out. The note was written on yellow paper.

I picked it up and then glanced around the hallway to see if this was some kind of trick that was being pulled on me by Heather and her crew, but they were nowhere to be seen. I didn’t want to risk reading the note in the middle of the hallway so I decided to read it later. I slide the note into one of my books and then gathered everything that I needed for class. I closed my locker and made my way toward Mr. Richwood’s classroom.

I was wondering what the note was and who put it in my locker. It may have been from Dan, confirming our next lesson, but I quickly dismissed this possibility because Dan I had confirmed the meeting verbally yesterday before he took me home.

It might be from Heather, maybe trying to apologize to me and rebuild our friendship, but at the same time I felt that this was a long shot.

As I neared Mr. Richwood’s classroom thoughts of the note quickly escaped my mind and were replaced with how I would address Mr. Richwood. I was afraid that when I saw him I wouldn’t have a voice or would say something stupid.

When I entered his classroom, I was the first one to arrive, but Mr. Richwood wasn’t alone. He was in the middle of a conversation with Miss Daniels. Miss Daniels and I greeted each other and then she continued her conversation with Mr. Richwood.

I took my seat in the back of the classroom. I placed my books on my desk in a neat pile and then allowed myself to study Mr. Richwood. He was wearing a gray collared t-shirt underneath a blue sweater that gave him this cute demeanor. Miss Daniels was leaning on the desk I usually sat at when I visited Mr. Richwood for lunch.

I remembered how it was nice of Miss Daniels to get me into the Art Club, but at the same time I was upset that she told Mr. Richwood about it. I wanted to dismiss it from my mind, but something inside of me refused to let it go.

I didn’t want to be nosy and eavesdrop on their conversation so I searched through my books to find that note that was in my locker. Once I found the note I unfolded it and began to read it. It was written in cursive and the handwriting was a little sloppy. It read:

“Listen, this isn’t a joke!! The Art teacher isn’t as great as you think he is. Please believe me! This isn’t a joke! I figured out something about him that will make you and everyone who has a crush on him upset. Do yourself a favor and forget him!!”

I reread the letter over and over debating whether or not it was a joke or if I should take it seriously. There was the possibility that Heather wrote this note to try to make me keep my distance from Mr. Richwood so she could move in and take my place, but it could be a legit note.

I wasn’t sure who wrote it and what this information was that they claimed to have. I stared over at Mr. Richwood trying to figure out what it could be that the person who wrote the note was talking about. What exactly was it that they knew about him? I didn’t know what to do or what to believe. Half of me thought it was fake, but the other half felt it was real. Why me? Why was I given this note?

Miss Daniels made her way out of the classroom and Mr. Richwood turned his attention toward me.

“Good morning Amanda,” he said with a friendly grin.

“Hi,” I said shyly.

“Did you draw anything awesome?”

“Uh, I’m working on something,” I said quickly relived he was talking to me.

A few students walked into the classroom and greeted Mr. Richwood. I grabbed the note and shoved it into my pocket afraid that someone would read it. As the student trickled inside a few stood in front of Mr. Richwood’s desk and began to hold a conversation with him.

Heather made her way into the class and smiled at Mr. Richwood. She then made her way though the rows and took her seat next to me.

“Heather,” I asked slowly. “Did you put something in my locker? Like a note or something?”

Heather appeared surprised by the fact that I had spoken to her, but she didn’t appear offended or annoyed by my question towards her.

“Put something in you locker? No, this isn’t middle school Amanda. If I have something to say to you I’ll say it to your face or through a text message.” She then turned to me, suddenly interested in what it was I had to say. “Why? What did you find in your locker?”

“Nothing…I was just wondering.”

If I told Heather about the note she would gossip about it to the entire school. She appeared to be oblivious to the note, but she could be lying. If it wasn’t Heather, then who was it?