Class and a show

My new look drew more than a few glances and I heard the muttered conversations. My teacher’s were definitely taken aback but since I wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary in class they let it pass without comment.

I noticed Mr. Brown, my math teacher, eying my legs. Thinking about what Denise had told me to do on Saturday, I wondered if he might be up for a little fun.

Mr. Pell was probably the best history teacher in the school. He also liked to bring “his” students along. Somehow, he had talked the school into letting him teach grades 9 and 11 my freshman and junior years of highschool, and grades 10 and 12 my sophomore and senior years. It wasn’t just me, of course. He’d been doing it this way for a while. But, it wouldn’t be at all wrong to say that he regarded me as a prize student. He still had a copy of my freshman mid-term paper somewhere in his file cabinet. My presentation at the end of last year had cemented my position as the best of my class.

So, while Mr. Pell quirked an eyebrow, he didn’t say anything. I wondered what he made of me, and what he would have thought if he’d known the whole story. Little Katie Moore. From pigtails, to puritan, to slut.

I took my time passing between classes, stopping to talk with anyone who I knew, even vaguely. I could feel the eyes on me. I let them admire the view. Crowds seemed to concentrate just beyond arms-reach. I strutted. Some people were starting to follow me. I smiled and winked. Fuck. All that time being a cock-tease had taught me something.

I got through Biology without comment. Mr. Taylor was too busy hamming it up to notice me. I was a good student, but I hadn’t had a chance to really stand out. Perhaps that would change.

In Spanish, Mr. Strand was worse off than Mr. Brown. I sat in the second row, so he had a good look at me. After picking his jaw off the floor, he began to make his way through the lesson plan. It took him a bit to work up the courage to ask me for an answer. The ice broken, he seemed to take every opportunity he could find to ask me questions. He must have called on me a quarter of the time. Quite the feat in a class of twenty-five.

When I got up to leave, he looked like he wanted to ask me to stay. I waited for a long moment, giving him what I hoped was an encouraging smile. He just swallowed a couple times and found some utterly fascinating papers on his desk to shuffle.

Oh well. Perhaps tomorrow?

A/N: Not sure about anyone else, but I picture Katie's school being fairly normal, with one caveat. The school now has Katie the slut.
People know what is normal and moral, and that using Katie like she wants to be is not. However, so far at least people are starting to slide down a slippery slope. Not sure what will happen if/when someone says no more. But for now, no one is. The teachers are surprised and human. The students are teenagers.