TITLE: Mr. In-The-Closet
GENRE: Young adult fiction
I loved math classes. Don’t get me wrong, I hated the actual subject; it was the complete definition of snorezville. But being able to spy on the boys’ PE class outside made sitting through those mind-numbing lessons worthwhile. Whoever put the soccer field in viewing distance of the classroom was a genius -- one whose feet I would gladly kiss.
Mr. Daniels, our epically boring and middle-aged teacher, sat on a brown, cushioned swivel-chair with his feet propped up on his desk. Being too lazy to stand and move toward the board, he often used a stick for his pointing.
Whack. “Rick Thomas, pay attention.”
I slammed back into reality, sitting straight enough to make a wooden board jealous. “Sorry, sir.”
He whacked the whiteboard again. If he did that one more time, I’d take that stick and shove it up his--“This sum,” he said. “Any ideas?” His eyes trained onto me, and his lips curved upward. He knew I had no idea. When did I ever have an idea?
Great. Algebra. “Um. Twenty-five?”
The curve in his lips dropped, and why the hell was everyone laughing?
“It’s a fraction, Rick.”
Okay. Not algebra. “I meant twenty over five.” Oh, yeah. Nice save. I practically saw his chest raise and fall in a sigh.
“No, you can’t have twenty over five because that would make four.”
My neck’s temperature shot up a couple of degrees as the class sniggered. Go ahead, laugh at the dumb-ass -- wouldn’t have been the first time.