The Beauty And The Heist

Chapter-1

Los Angeles Institute of Science and Technology, California.

English Literature class A.K.A.The Tenth Circle of Hell (even Dante didn't have the guts to come here).

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"O. Henry was born in 1872 in North Carolina. He was famous for his play on words...blah blah blah."

Did this teacher not know what she was teaching? Forcing someone to endure Literature was one thing, forcing someone to endure Literature and providing them with the shittiest teacher in history was a whole new level of torture.

I bet you've already judged me from those two lines alone, chances are you're probably right.

I raised my hand.

"Ma'am!"

King Joffrey was my Literature teacher. If you met her you'd understand. Anyways, she sighed and looked at me through her bulletproof spectacles.

"Ah, Ms. Rane, and here I was hoping the almighty know-it-all was asleep so we could have a proper lecture."

See? This is why I hated Literature. I tried not to let my anger show.

Thou must not loose thy temper. Deep breaths.

"Ma'am despite your rather boring lecture, I'm wide awake as you can see. Either way, it wouldn't be a proper lecture, not with the degree of inaccuracy of your 'facts'." I made quotation marks around the word.

A blanket of silence fell across the classroom. Whoops.

She was gave me her death glare and sat on her Iron Throne. I really, really, really hated this teacher. Also if she had no patience I would be really really really screwed.

"Please point out where I made my mistake, Ms. Rane. Or sit down and stop acting like such a little know-it-all. It's annoying and nobody cares how smart you are."

The class, that I thought was asleep, burst out laughing. I wasn't exactly their favorite person as you may have guessed. I wouldn't be winning any popularity awards anytime soon.

I gritted my teeth.

"O. Henry was born in 1862. Atleast I'm a know-it-all that knows my shit." I said calmly.

Okay, my temper might have won this battle. Like the last thousand. Too late to fix any damage now. Might as well go out in style.

The class stopped laughing and started hooting instead. Some guy drawled out what sounded like ''Burnnn!" Or maybe he was burping instead. Either way I wasn't too interested to know. I would bet my life that it wasn't worth the effort of finding out.

"And how would you know that Ms. Rane?" Mrs Baratheon asked dangerously.

"I read it in a book about O. Henry."

On second thoughts I could have said something a little more convincing.

She smiled a winning smile, giving me a wonderful view of her rather unusual teeth. (Floss, guys. Please.).

"I'm afraid that's not good enough. Ms Rane. You should stop talking. You rarely know your 'shit' as you so elegantly put it. I doubt you actually know anything about O. Henry."

"Well, I rarely go wrong and I'm quite sure the author knows his 'shit' better than you. O. Henry was born on 11th September 1862."

Her face changed colors.

"Google it." She snapped at her pet student.

"Ma'am it was 1862. O. Henry was born in 1862" He said meekly.