The Perfect Threat

1. The Feat of Snapping Pencils

~Joey~

JOEY PATTERSON.

I stared down at the two words I had just written on a piece of paper. My first two words on my first school paper. Nah. I erased the name, creating the first graphite indention on my new eraser. I really didn't like how my 'e's looked. It wasn't me. I rewrote it next to a little sign that said simply, NAME.

Joey Patterson.

There, that was more like it. Usually it took me a little while before my handwriting cleared up.

I lifted my head and looked around the classroom, checking for familiar faces on the first school day. I knew most of the students here, though there was one I didn't seem to recognize- a girl. Had she been here the whole time? Had I just not noticed her- my whole life? No, I couldn't have. I wasn't THAT bad... I don't know, possibly. I wasn't usually the most observant person when it came to the girls here. They were pretty much all the same- diva, here, diva, there. There were quite a few teacher's pets, the majority of cheerleaders, and gang of tomboys, a giant nerd alert, and just your typical all-around Goth. But, she was different. She could be considered kind of nice, actually.

Just then, my new teacher Mr. ...? Mr. ..?. What was his name? Eh, I hadn't really paid much attention. Mr. What's His Face strolled confidently into the room as if he owned the place. Almost immediately, the teacher's pets sat down in their seats and folded their hands on their new desks (the school board FINALLY got the money for them so they didn't smell like fruit or mint or the typical bubblegum stickiness). No matter what teacher, the best students this school had to offer seemed to always made the best first impressions. It was pretty much the most annoying thing in the world, or so I thought... But, there'll be more on that- later. Like all the other teachers at New Castle High School, he was annoyed, tired, but not at all the kind of teacher who smelled like old books and nutmeg around the holidays. His gray almond eyes scraped the room for any talkers, but he had the strict confidence that silenced students with just a stern glance. He looked about fourty-five with a long pointed nose and a head of perfectly combed dark brown hair, slightly greased too. In the few years that he had been teaching, his occupation had treated him crudely.

He carried a sleek black pen I his right hand.

Mr. Something began to write his name on the board in crisp white chalk. Forming the letters Mr., a cursive F was written. Soon my teacher swirled the chalk to form an "e" and after promptly making a line rise, he let it fall in a slope to script a lowercase "r". There was big problem I faced in school. I'm... ok, fine, fine. I'll tell you. I'm dyslexic. I may have forgotten to mention that. To help myself, I had this habit of writing down everything I saw, each and every individual letter, just to help. I'm not stupid. I just do that. So soon enough of course someone just HAD to notice.

"You know you don't have to write down everything he says, right?" A small, female voice from in front said, almost casually.

I looked up from my paper and there sat the new girl. The first thing I noticed about Jane was her eyes. Now, don't get all judgey now, dear readers, I'm an observant person, when it comes to anything other than girls, that is! As I was saying, HER EYES - they were creepy, in a good kind of way. They were bright and active, alive, even- sea foamy. Yes, they were sea foamy. Her darkish mousy brown hair framed her face, covered in lighter brown highlights. No offence to her, but she was short, very actually. Looking down at her, she flushed a deep red, but seemed to cover it with a slight smile. Then, I realized- she had braces. Little spring green bands covered her silver wiring and small, pinkie-width-sized rubber bands attached her upper jaw to her lower jaw that Pulled her teeth together. She was talking. Did she notice I hadn't been paying attention? Man, I hope she didn't....