Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Congratulations,” I reply flatly. “You’ve earned the award of fastest detention ever given on the first day of school. Now find a seat, Miss LeClaire, and get here on time from now on or don’t bother showing up at all.”
Her lips slam shut, and she stares at me in disbelief for a second before she swallows down her humiliation. Slinking to her seat, she leaves me standing at the front of the class alone with an unfamiliar shadow of frustration. I shut the door and take a moment to gather myself before I point out the rules I scrawled on the whiteboard earlier this morning.
“Welcome to AP Research. Those of you who have made it this far are second year students of the Capstone program, so I assume you will understand this is not an easy college credit for your application. If you are ready to put your mind to use, then I will be your guide this year. My name is Mr. Carter, and I expect you to address me as such. Now, let’s go over the rules, shall we?”
The class falls dead silent as I begin to ramble off the structure that is better suited for toddlers than teenagers.
No texting. No snapchatting. No selfies. No phones, period.
No eye rolling. No whining.
If I’m talking, you’re not.
If you plan to show up late, don’t bother coming at all.
My eyes inadvertently move to Stella as I read this line. To my satisfaction, she sucks in a breath, and I continue down the list.
If you’re passing notes, be prepared to share them with the entire class.
No gossiping. No food or drinks.
No shirt, no shoes, no classroom. This is not a hippie commune, nor is it your sofa. Come to class in compliance with the dress code and remain that way. Nobody wants to smell your feet when you kick off your shoes.
Do your homework and don’t make excuses.
If you are coughing, sneezing, shivering, or otherwise showing signs of an impending plague, you will be sent directly to the school nurse.
There are no participation medals in this class. Grades are earned through sweat and tears.
* * *
“NOW THAT WE have that out of the way, are there any questions?”
A horde of blank faces stare back at me, but the one I find myself drifting to is hers. The girl who will undoubtedly be a problem this year. She’s chosen a seat next to Sybil, which displeases me more than I expect. While Sybil is a decent student, she is also a party girl. They aren’t the most likely of friends, but I can see Stella getting caught up in things she shouldn’t be with Sybil’s influence. Regardless, I remind myself it isn’t my concern.
“If there are no questions, then let’s proceed. You will note on your desk there is a course syllabus in front of you. Today, we will cover the schedule, course materials, and expectations for this semester. In the likely event that you decide this class isn’t what you anticipated, you can elect to opt out this week. Now open your AP Research Workbooks and turn to page twenty-seven. You have ten minutes to read the Getting Started section on your own.”
The class shuffles around, removing books and pencils from their Prada bags. Everyone except for Stella, who has slunk even lower into her seat, failing to go unnoticed as she refuses to follow through on this very basic command.
“Miss LeClaire, do we have a problem?” My voice echoes off the walls, and every student turns to look at her.
“I don’t have my textbook,” she says, her voice unwavering even though her face betrays the nerves she doesn’t want anyone to see. “I’m sorry. I had trouble finding it, and then I was late—”
“You seem to be under the impression that I care about your excuses.” I lean against my desk and pin her with my gaze. “Next time, come prepared or don’t bother. A sloth catches on quicker than you, Miss LeClaire.”
The classroom erupts into soft snickers while red blooms across her cheeks, just as I predicted. Her fists curl at her sides, and it appears that Stella does have some fire in her after all.
“Hey, Mr. Carter,” Ethan pipes up, waggling his eyebrows in Stella’s direction. “She can share with me. I won’t bite.”
The muscles in my throat tighten as I swivel my attention in his direction. “Did I ask for your assistance, Mr. Dupree?”
“No.” He scratches at his eyebrow with the end of his pencil. “I just figured—”
“You just figured your raging hormones would be a benefit to Miss LeClaire in some way, but they won’t. Not today. Not ever. So, think twice before you open your mouth in my class again.”
Ethan shuts his trap, and I take a seat at my desk, confounded by my annoyance over something so juvenile. My body is rigid with tension, and I can’t dispel this odd sensation in my gut. Every jock in class is staring at her, and my reaction is beyond visceral. What the fuck is this? I haven’t been this wound up… ever. Stella has captured the attention of everyone in class, the girls included. They know she’s competition, and they want to squash her like a bug beneath their Jimmy Choos.