Class

Dang! I think to myself as I walk into my English class.

I am late so the only seats available are in the first row. I walk down the stairs and take my seat in the middle section in the front row. After a few minutes Ms. Hart rises from behind her desk in the middle of the floor and the one hundred students in the stadium like class room fall silent.

Ms. Hart is my English teacher and she has a reputation throughout the school of not putting up with any bull crap. Despite English being my favorite subject, it is my hardest class because of her strict grading policy.

She is a tall woman, and even taller with her heels on. She dresses professionally and conservatively, but you can still see the outline of her hour glass figure.

"Please open your books up to page 64 and we will pick up where we left off." She says, the small microphone on her cardigan amplifying it throughout the classroom for all to hear.

"Once again we will be discussing the poem by Walt Whitman and its themes." She continues, and her smooth voice fills the stadium like warm milk being poured into a glass. It makes me a little sleepy. But I know I will have to stay awake in the first row or else risk getting hit on the hand by the yard stick she uses to teach with.

She uses the yard stick to point at a passage she has copied down onto the whiteboard from A Woman Waits for Me, and asks,

"Who would like to share their thoughts on this passage?"

The class remains silent. No one dares to give an incorrect answer and risk a public rebuke from Ms. Hart. Something she is known for doing.

"As a room full of hormone crazed young adults I know you all have thoughts on it..." she says, "Very well, Whitman is speaking about the pinnacle of human passion. The desire that our bodies and spirits will eternally crave. He is referring of course to... sex."

Hearing the word "sex" come out of Ms. Hart's mouth brings me and a few others slightly out of our half comatose state. Just then a wadded up piece of paper lands in my open book in front of me. I turn around to see where it came from and find my buddy, Bobby, a couple rows back with his thumbs up and a big grin on his face.

"Open it." He mouths silently to me.

I open the paper wad. On it is a rudimentary drawing of two stick figures, one labeled as Ms. Hart. The other figure has its head buried in her exaggerated boobs, with the label "This is what Whitman's poem is about!" scribbled at the top. I laugh a little and shake my head at Bobby's immaturity.

Before I can put it away the paper is snatched out of my hands. I look up to see the real Ms. Hart standing over me with the paper in her hand.

"You know the rule. Any whispering or note passing is to be shared with the entire class." She says authoritatively.

My face flushes red. I glance back at Bobby but he has suddenly become very busy taking notes on the lecture. I look back at Ms. Hart who is now reading over the paper. Her face also goes slightly red.

Oh no, I am going to get it.

"Hmm.." Ms. Hart clears her throat. "Perhaps this would best be handled privately. "

She puts the paper into a drawer in her desk.

"Now where was I?" she asks, and continues on with the lecture for the day.

The rest of class is uneventful. I keep my head down and try to avoid eye contact with Ms. Hart. I am so embarrassed.

"That is all the time we have for today. Next class the TA and I should have all your papers graded. Don't forget the reading this weekend. You are dismissed." She tells the class.

I bolt out my row and take the stairs two at a time to the door so I can beat the rush and escape before Ms. Hart can speak to me.

I'll just have to sit in the very back corner next time and hope she forgets about that paper.

I rush back to my dorm and quickly change for my dinner with Aubrey and her mom and head off to their place.

I pull up to the address Aubrey has texted me at 5:55.

There's her car in the driveway, this has to be it.

I text her back to let her know I am here and ask, "What's your mom's name again?" My phone buzzes with her reply, "It's Lindsay"

I walked up to the door and knock. After a few moments it is opened by..