Constance slipped through the door to Mr. Buchanan’s English class as bells rang throughout the halls of Toano High School. She quietly crossed the room and took her seat along the row of desks beside the windows. She dropped her backpack on the floor beside her desk and fished her textbook, notebook, and pencil from it as Mr. Buchanan stood to start his lecture.
“Good morning, everyone. Did we have a good weekend?” Mr. Buchanan asked. A few students responded with low grunts and noises associated with angsty teens.
Constance watched him loosen his necktie with one hand while adjusting his glasses with the other. His lenses were covered in greasy fingerprints and specs of dust. How does he see through those things? she thought.
He was nice to her, but Constance couldn’t stand within three feet of him without reflecting on his lack of personal hygiene. Whenever she needed his help, she would wait until he was seated at his desk so she could use the large wooden structure to maintain a healthy proximity. Half the time, she didn’t trust the answers he gave her because of his persistent lack of confidence.
“Well, let’s get this party started, shall we? Open your textbooks to page 136.”
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