"This is just outrageous," Mom snapped, while I was taking a bite of her cheese-and-ham sandwich—my favorite, by the way—and slowly chewing it down with a sip of slightly bitter hot tea, all while continuing to listening to her heated rant. "Not only has your Mrs. Johnson retired, but she also refused to keep tutoring you because, apparently, she suddenly decided she wants to spend her old age traveling around resorts!"
"She's not my Mrs. Johnson, Mom," I sighed heavily, fully aware of how messed up the situation was, yet unable to do anything about it. Setting my cup down on the table, I placed the sandwich back onto the plate, lowering my gaze in exhaustion.
Right now, my thoughts were clouded with nothing but anxiety about getting into university. I mean, sure—there's still a whole year left.
Or rather… only a year left.
"This is just a complete disaster!" Mom kept going, angrily waving her hands. It honestly amazed me how, after a twelve-hour workday, she still had the energy to express her outrage—and at full volume, too. Sometimes it felt like everything related to my studies worried her more than it did me.
Yeah, Mrs. Johnson had basically ditched us right before the exams, but still—you had to respect her decision. She wasn't thirty anymore. Not even forty or fifty. And sure, a new teacher had shown up, one who was unlikely to be any better than her.
But what could I do about it?
Absolutely nothing.
"Ican handle it without extra lessons," I blurted out—and only then realized what complete nonsense had just come out of my mouth. As always, I spoke first and only afterward started wondering whether I should've said anything at all. For a split second, I comforted myself with the thought that maybe Mom hadn't heard me—but I'm not that lucky.
She immediately fell silent, cutting off her rant, and gave me a suspicious, narrowed look. She watched me expectantly, as if waiting for me to add something like, "I'm kidding, Mom, don't take me seriously." But instead, I said something entirely different from what she expected:
"I'm sure our new teacher will be just as good as Mrs. Johnson."
I wasn't lying to my mother—no, I was lying to myself. That young guy, who had somehow ended up among the teachers at our school, was hardly capable of teaching us anything useful. At best, he'd just melt the "icy" hearts of nearly half the girls in class.
Of course, I hadn't actually seen Collins in action yet—the first lesson had only been for introductions—but I seriously doubted his biological abilities. And I was trying to pass off this nonsense as the truth in front of my mom simply because I was already exhausted by her irritated tone and that perpetually disapproving look on her face.
"Seriously, Mom. My understanding of biology improved after studying with Missis Johnson. I'm sure I can handle it," I continued, trying to convince her of this nonsense as I got up from the round porcelain table. The fact that I'd managed to reassure her was confirmed by a loud sigh as she finally sank back into her chair.
"You do understand how important this subject is for your admission, right?" Her tone softened, her voice now calmer, almost gentle.
"Of course," I replied quietly, nodding along. "Of course I understand. I'll try my best. I promise."
Like a little child, I gave her my word, promising to do exactly as I said. Slowly, I walked over and wrapped my arms around her from behind, resting my head on her shoulder. She gently stroked my hair, then told me it's already too late and I should've gone to bed.
I nodded, wished her good night, and slipped away to my bedroom like a silent ghost.
The next school day didn't exactly shine with bright colors. Most of the classes were dull and monotonous. During breaks, Victoria and I exchanged stories about the summer, and even during lessons we kept whispering to each other—quietly, trying not to get caught. I was actually a bit surprised by how much had happened in her life over those three months, because all I could tell was, "Well… I went outside a couple of times, ruining my perfectly pale skin."
But it was for the third lesson—biology—that I happened to be late. And if yesterday I got away with it, today that was hardly going to happen.
I hurried up to the door of classroom "209," the bell having rung ten minutes ago. Well, in my defense—I had to run all the way down to the cloakroom on the first floor to grab my phone. I'd left it in the pocket of my light jacket and only realized it when I desperately needed it. And running up and down five flights of stairs—even in sneakers—is no an easy task.
My heart was pounding after that run, as if it were trying to break right through my chest. I raised my hand to knock, hovering it near the door for a moment before giving it a quick tap and stepping inside.
"Sorry I'm late. May I take my seat?" I broke the heavy silence in the classroom without lifting my eyes from the floor.
When I finally dared to look up to where the teacher was supposed to be, I was genuinely surprised to see him sitting casually on the edge of the desk instead of behind it.
"Hope you didn't lose everything out of your backpack on the way here?" Collins remarked dryly, making it perfectly clear he remembered our little collision from yesterday. "Go ahead, take your seat."
I slowly made my way between the desks, looking for my seat. Meanwhile, Vicky shot me a curious glance that practically screamed, "What was that about?" But I just waved it off and sat down beside her without saying a word.
And, I have to admit, he was actually a pretty engaging speaker—unlike Mrs. Johnson, whose voice had always been dull, monotonous, and almost guaranteed to put you to sleep. Though, at least the old woman didn't interrupt her lessons with some outdated joke that sent the entire class into fits of laughter.
What really irritated me, though, was how he allowed himself to exchange a few words with the girls, even flirt a little, making them practically melt.
"Well then," after another wave of laughter rolled through the classroom, Collins pushed himself off the edge of the desk and straightened up, his posture suddenly rigid—making the definition of his muscles visible even through his white T-shirt. "Can anyone tell me the name of the author who proposed the first theory of evolution?"
The room fell silent in an instant, everyone glancing at each other. I shot a look at Vicky, desperately trying to get my brain to work. What was his name? Damn it, it was right on the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn't recall it.
"Scott," the teacher fixed his piercing gaze on Lydia, who kept whispering to her deskmate without the slightest regard for Collins. "Scott!"
She nearly jumped out of her seat at the sudden call of her name, only then looking up at him with an innocent smile.
"Maybe you know the answer to this question?" he continued calmly, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Maybe," it was obvious from her expression that she didn't have the slightest clue—not about the answer, not even about the question itself—but somehow, she managed to wriggle her way out. "But I'd rather hear it from you."
The flirtatious tone she used with the teacher made me feel something close to a gag reflex. It was disgusting to listen to. I think I forgot to mention—Scott wasn't just the queen of the class. She was its biggest slut. Arrogant, conceited, always acting like some kind of princess.
Watch yourself, hotshot, or that crown glued to your head will crush you.
"Oh, and you would have heard it perfectly too—if only you'd stop flapping your tongue, babbling about everything to your deskmate, and actually listened to me, dear," Collins replied, his voice calm but carrying an almost imperceptible note of sarcasm, making half the class barely hold back their laughter.
Lydia flushed, then simply dropped her gaze to her desk, casting a fleeting glance at her neighbor but no longer whispering to her. The rest of the lesson turned into a kind of discussion about the many proposed theories of evolution.
But what truly "delighted" me was the end of biology, when the teacher announced that the next lesson would start with a test. A low murmur of displeasure ran through the classroom, and all the smirks immediately vanished from faces.
As soon as our disgruntled expressions faded from the room, Victoria didn't stop pestering me all the way to the smoking area near the school yard, endlessly asking what the teacher had meant. And what could I do? I had no choice but to tell her about yesterday's little "incident." Every time I paused for effect, my friend would burst into continuous giggles.
"Yeah, only you could pull that off."
"Shut up," Smith nudged me sideways, but she couldn't suppress a smile herself. By the way, I don't smoke, but apparently, my frequent visits to the smoking area with my desk partner were slowly turning me into a passive smoker anyway, just breathing in that poison.
"Holy crap!" Vince and Roger shouted in unison, having been calmly smoking nearby, when they spotted the approaching teacher. And who, do you think? None other than Mr. Christopher Collins.
"Holy crap!" Victoria repeated in the same tone, dropping her cigarette to the ground and quickly stomping it out. Their reactions, of course, amused me a little, making me let out short little chuckles.
When he reached us, Collins swept everyone present with a detached glance. Then, spotting the cigarette Smith had expertly stomped with her sneaker, he only mused, "Why react so dramatically?" Pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, he lit one.
You should have seen the twisted faces and dropped jaws of my classmates at that moment. Noticing our genuine surprise, the teacher added:
"Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, gentlemen."
What a truly philosophical thought, coming from a biologist. Wow—I had no idea you were capable of such statements. You should be teaching philosophy, not prepping eleventh graders for the upcoming exams.
But, of course, I kept that little opinion to myself. Moments after his words, Victoria and I hurriedly left the so-called smoking area.