Tame Chapter 1

When he entered the classroom I felt my heart rate pick up. I hadn’t spoken to him since the last day of school last year which had been three months ago. I wished my heart would relax, but at the sight of him the crush I had developed for him was restored. I found myself battling the emotions that fight those who are in love.

The entire class became silent as they watched Mr. Richwood approached his desk and sit a small stack of papers on the surface. Since I sat in the back, I had a great view of the classroom and found myself studying how all the girl’s in our class suddenly became interested in our new teacher, while the guys in our classes faces consisted of either a mixture of self-consciousness or curiosity.

Mr. Richwood walked around the front of his desk and leaned on the edge of it. He didn’t utter a single word, but instead let his eyes scan the faces of the students in his new class. His eyes moved over each face in a smooth manner, but when his eyes landed on me, they lingered there for a moment and he allowed himself to smile, probably because he was thrilled to see that I had taken his class again, then he moved on.

“Well,” he asked after a moment of silence. “Whose going to say it first?”

The class was silent, unsure of what it was he was talking about.

“Whose, going to point out that I was late?”

The class was silent at first, trying to comprehend if his question was some kind of trick to lure out who the troublemakers were going to be or if he was genuinely being sincere. The boy who had spoken early rose his hand.

“I will sir,” the kid said trying to be funny. “You’re late,”

A few of the girls who laughed at his lame joke from earlier, now shot him disapproving glares probably for harassing their new teacher. There was no doubt in my mind that if Mr. Richwood weighted three hundred pounds and had the face of a monster they would burst out laughing at the boy’s joke.

“Yep,” agreed Mr. Richwood. “I’m late. Five minutes late to be exact, which is exactly what you all can’t do. You have to be on time, but since we all make mistakes…I’ll let it go the first couple of times. Just don’t’ make it a habit.”

A few of the girls laughed, trying to polite.

“Well, as you all know, I’m your new Art teacher, Mr. Richwood. This class is only going to be as fun as you make it. A few of you I’ve had before,” his eyes landed on me causing my heart to race then he moved them onto someone else. “And I’m sure I’ll get to know each and everyone one of you and help you find an interest in art.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a hand shoot up and when I turned to look, I was half caught of guard by who the hand belonged to. It was Heather’s hand. A few of the students around the back glanced over at Heather and even Mr. Richwood appeared to be taken by surprise by her sudden gesture.

“Yes,” Mr. Richwood said. “Could you please introduce yourself.”

“Sure,” Heather grinned. “My name is Heather Drysdale and I have a question for you. You look really young, how old are you?”

All eyes in the classroom darted from Heather toward the front of the room toward Mr. Richwood. He didn’t appear to be offended by the question the way some teachers would. He answered it sincerely.

“I’m twenty-two,”

A few of the girls in the class gasped. I could tell the seniors, who were about seventeen and eighteen, were having new thoughts surface in their mind since the age gap from our Art teacher was so narrow.

“That’s kind of young for a teacher,” Heather commented.

“Well, I graduated high school at seventeen and went straight to college. Four years of studying and working hard to graduate early is why I’m able to be employed at such a young age. I was hired to replace the old art teacher here just a few months before I even graduated since my test scores were so high. Last year was my first year teaching and it was an amazing experience.”

“Wait,” Heather rose her hand again. “I have another question.”

“Alright,”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

I felt my heart hit the bottom of chest. I wasn’t sure if I had reacted this way because the question caught me off guard or if it was because I feared the answer. A few of the girls in our class began to giggle and watch Mr. Richwood, wondering how he would answer the question. Some of the boys seemed amused by the question as well.

Mr. Richwood and myself were probably the only two who were not amused by it. He didn’t look angry, but rather annoyed, the way parents look when dealing with their immature children.

“I’m not going to answer that question because that’s something that is personal,” he then directed his next statement toward the class. “If we’re going to have a good year, then we have to respect each other,” his eyes glared over at Heather. “And keep all discussions and conversations, school appropriate. Understand?”

“Yes,” the class said in unison.

I glanced over at Heather who didn’t appear to be offended by his remark, but instead she was twirling her hair with her finger. I shook my head wondering how she could display her feelings so openly.

“So we’re not going to go over the rules because I believe each and everyone of you are mature enough to understand right from wrong, but I will discuss our first assignment for the year.”

A few students groaned in response as Mr. Richwood began handing out blank sheets of paper. He then explained the purpose of the paper to us and what our assignment would be.

“Since we’re going to working with one another a lot this year, I want to get to know each and everyone of you. You have to list ten facts about yourself, but I want you to draw them. I don’t want any words on the paper, just images.”

“What about our name?” asked one student. “Are you saying we can’t write our name?

“Oh,” said Mr. Richwood sounding surprised by the flaw discovered in his words. “Well, if you can find a creative way to draw your name without using words then do it, otherwise, please write your names.”

The class began to work on the assignment. It took me a moment, but eventually I was able to begin drawing ten things about myself. The images consisted mostly of things related to art, since drawing was one of the largest aspects that defined me as a person.

“Heather,” I said quietly while we were working. “You shouldn’t have said that to Mr. Richwood.”

“Really Amanda, it was nothing.” she grinned. “He’s just playing hard to get. I don’t care. I like a challenge. Remember Amanda, boys are like bugs, they always come crawling back. No one can resist my charm.” She glanced over at my paper. “Wow, Amanda, I wish I could draw like you .”

While the class worked, I spotted Mr. Richwood sitting at the front of the classroom working on something on his computer. It felt good to watch him from afar the way I did when I was in his class last year.

I remember on the last day of school, before we were being released for the summer Mr. Richwood called me to his desk and said to me.

“Amanda, I want you to promise me that over the summer you’ll draw every single day. It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece. It can be a small doodle, but please draw something and don’t waste your talent.”

I told him I would keep his promise and I did. I have even bought a special sketch pad for the purpose. Every single day over the summer, I stayed true to my promise and drew a picture every day. I scribbled the date somewhere on each picture and had brought the sketch pad with me today hopping to give it to Mr. Richwood.

Before I knew it, the bell had rang and the students were rising from their chairs and exiting the classroom.

“Make sure you turn in your work,” said Mr. Richwood.

Heather waited for me and soon we were the last two students in the class room. We made our way to the front of the classroom, where Mr. Richwood was standing up behind his desk. Heather reached the desk first and placed her assignment in the pile of papers. She then looked up at Mr. Richwood and stared him in his eyes, allowing this seductive look to enter her eyes and lingering in her tone.

“Goodbye Mr. Richwood.” she grinned while twirling her hair her around her finger. “It was a really great day. I look forward to having more fun with you,”

Did she really just say that? I wasn’t sure why, but I felt that there was some kind of a hidden message lingering in that statement.

Mr. Richwood didn’t acknowledge the fact that Heather was flirting with him and simply smiled and said. “Have a good day,”

He was smooth enough to ignore her. Heather made her way to the door to waited for me. I placed my paper in pile, suddenly lacking the confidence I had originally had to talk to him. I was about to meet Heather at the door when Mr. Richwood called my name.

“Uh, Amanda, could I talk to you for a minute.”

“Sure,” I said calmly, but inside my heart was doing back flips.

Mr. Richwood glanced over at Heather, who was waiting by the door. He stared at her indicating that he wanted her to leave so he could talk to her without her eavesdropping. Heather didn’t understand at first, but then after a moment, she realized and glanced at me for a moment before she vanished outside the classroom.

“How was your summer?” Mr. Richwood asked.

“Great, what about yours?” I asked.

“Awesome. I finally took that trip to Europe I told you about.”

Staring into his eyes I found myself getting hypnotized by the scent of his cologne.

“That’s great, I’m so happy for you Mr. Richwood.” I searched through my piles of notebooks and found the one I had drawn in everyday. “I kept my promise and drew every day. I wanted you to keep it.”

“Sure,” Mr. Richwood took the sketch book from me. “I love your art work so I’ll be sure to look over them.”

“Thanks,” I turned to head for the door, sensing the conversation was over, but again I was halted by the sound of my name.

“And Amanda,” I turned to face him. “I’m really glad that you decided to take my class again. I hope you’ll join the Art Club again this year.”

I nodded and then allowed myself to smile.

“Of course, I love art.”

Mr. Richwood grinned and nodded showing he agreed with me. What he didn’t know was that what I really wanted to say to him was that I love him.