Marching On; Anna.

[Scott Ramirez]

I sigh, straightening my crimson tie as I pull open the door to the school as the first bell rings. I stride down the hallway and take a left onto a smaller one. I dig the key to my room out of my pocket and unlock it to step in and flick on the lights, walking over to drop my bag on my desk- I'd stayed up late grading last night.
I yawn and look up as a few students enter to put down their stuff before walking back out to meet up with their friends. I run a stray, thoughtful hand through my black hair, picking up a stack of test papers to count them and make sure I had enough for all my classes. I hated giving tests on Mondays, but, the fire drill that had happened on Friday was out of my control.
I put the stack back down and walk over to plop down in my swivel chair behind my desk, wanting to sigh again. It was almost a year from the day that I'd found out about my ex wife's affair- I thought about it all the time. What had I done wrong? Maybe I just wasn't good enough..

[Annabel DuPont]

I gasp as I sprint through the door to the school, cursing myself for being out of shape as I held on to my side. I wince at the sharp pain in my lungs and continue running, nearly slipping and falling flat on my back in my haste to reach Mr. Ramirez's class. I should have just left the bottle there for Mawmaw to find, I think to myself, then shake my head. No, that wouldn't have been a good thing to do at all. She'd already threatened Dad with eviction when she found his bottle of Jack six months ago; they would have both been on the street if she'd found another one.

I was usually the first one to show up to class. Literally. Mr. Ramirez probably couldn't count the number of times he'd found me waiting for him to unlock the classroom in the mornings. Now, students were already in the hallway, snickering as I pass by them as if my ass is on fire just so I can still say I was early to class. I come to an abrupt stop just outside the class, struggling to catch my breath as I notice a few students set their belongings down by their usual seats and leave the room to visit with the rest of their individual cliques. I take one last deep breath, closing my eyes in a brief attempt to regain composure, and walk into the classroom.

I hear a plop as I walk into the room, and turn my head to the side to see Mr. Ramrez - or Captain Arrr, as my nerdy conscious has dubbed him - sitting in his chair. I offer him a small smile and a wave as I take my usual seat at the front of the room, pulling out my worn copy of The Great Gatsby. "Hey, Mr. R," I said, "How was your weekend?"

[Scott Ramirez]

I was so consumed by my depressing reminiscing that I don't notice Anna walk in, staring at the keyboard of my computer before looking up with a slight start as she spoke. "Oh, uh, good. How was yours, Anna?" I reply, offering her a warm smile.
I was lying. My weekend had been horrible, I'd holed myself up in my bedroom, grading papers and then checking them again and again in an effort not to think about.. her when all my mind did was wander and end up thinking about her, thinking about what I'd done wrong, what I'd done to deserve this.
But, I couldn't tell Anna that. How sad would that be, a teacher pouring his heart out to his student? I run a hand through my stick-up black hair again, turning in my chair to face her. "Good, I'd hope." I add, my dark brown eyes resting on her.

[Annabel DuPont]

I glance down at my favorite book and smile a small smile. "It was good," I reply, "I just sent off some applications to a few colleges. I'm actually surprised that there are so many that offer what I want to major in."

It was a half-truth. I had applied to several colleges, but none of the ones I would have loved to attend. I had to stay close to Dad; I had to look out for him and make sure he didn't relapse. So I applied to a few smaller colleges closer to Ramad, no more than a two hour drive away. But I couldn't say anything about that to my English teacher; it wouldn't really be appropriate, would it?

"Mr. R?" I ask, glancing up at him. My blue eyes meet his brown, and I feel my cheeks begin to heat up. "Are we going to have any writing projects soon?" He probably notices my love for writing is closer to crossing the line into the wasteland better known as obsession, but I can't keep myself from asking. I love writing stories more than I love breathing sometimes. Hell, Mawmaw has had to remind me on multiple occasions of the importance of eating and sleeping. I've probably written seven stories since the last writing project was assigned, and English is supposed to be the place where you better your reading and writing skills, right? Maybe if I could convince Mr. R to critique enough of my stories, they'll be considered good enough to send in to some of my favorite literary journals.

One could only hope.

[Scott Ramirez]

I cross my arms over my chest, listening intently as she spoke. College. God, I'd miss her when she graduated, she was one of my best students- all the others could barely write in complete sentences, or spell. Damn auto correct.
"Hm?" I ask, raising my eyebrows as Anna said my name (title?). A lopsided grin crosses my face at her question and I shrug my shoulders noncommittally. "Today we're taking the test that we were supposed to take Friday." I reply instead, deciding to mess with Anna a little.
"You can always turn a story in for extra credit, I really enjoy reading them." I add honestly, hitting my foot on the floor to turn in a small circle.

[Annabel DuPont]

I can't help but smile at the sight of Mr. Ramirez crossing his arms. I've heard other students say that he looked slightly intimidating when he did that, but I think it just made him look thoughtful. That smile fell almost immediately at the word test, however. I feel my shoulders fall in disappointment. "Oh, yeah," I mutter, reaching into my backpack for my lucky pen, the thing that dreams and ingenious ideas and Straight A's are born from. But my pen isn't in my backpack. Frowning, I lift my backpack and place it in my lap and begin to dig through it anxiously, unable to find even the least favorite among my writing utensils. I let my head fall back and groan. Just my luck; I lose my favorite pen and can't seem to find any of my spares, AND it's a test day. "Just great."

No matter how hard I try, I can't help myself. I grin so intensely that Malibu Barbie would be impressed, my cheeks screaming in protest. "Really?" I ask, "You'd be willing to put up with the literary ramblings of some random teenager when you could be... I don't know... whatever it is teachers do when they're not working?"

[Scott Ramirez]

I watch as her face falls as I mention the test, but, it couldn't be helped, they had to take it eventually. Anna begins to dig through her bag, before straightening up and groaning. "Need a pencil?" I ask, rolling back a bit to reach for my mug that held extras before tossing it to her.
"You can keep it." I add, shrugging my shoulders a bit as I begin to fidget with my tie before stopping myself. I'd developed quite a few nervous habits since the divorce, but fidgeting with things was the least.. troublesome.
A small smile crosses my face as Anna beams at me after I reply, I couldn't help it, it was contagious. And it showed me that, perhaps, I could make someone happy, do something right. "Of course, you're a fantastic writer, they're always interesting and creative." I reply, nodding. My grin falters as she mentions about what I do when I'm not at school.
I didn't really do anything. I'd go out for groceries and gas, but, that was pretty much it; I had no social life anymore. "I don't really do anything else." I mumble to myself, pushing off on the side of the desk to turn in a slow circle.

[Annabel DuPont]

I smile sheepishly as Mr. Ramirez tosses me a pencil. "Thanks." I put my backpack on the floor and begin to adjust my clothes. It was a nervous habit, but it also helped when my clothes actually needed adjusting. The changing of the seasons always brought about a change in my wardrobe. This wasn't Texas, where you could wear tank tops, shorts and summer dresses year-round. I don't think I'll ever get used to the weather up here, really. It was only a few degrees cooler than it had been a few weeks ago, but I decided to don a white, long-sleeved shirt, blue jeans and a matching jean jacket that my mother wore when she was in high school. I can see other students in the hallways, still dressed as though it was still summer, looking as though they didn't have a care in the world.

It must be nice.

I blush at the compliment and brush a stray hair behind my ear. "Thanks," I say again, "But I doubt my writing's anywhere near as good as yours." I bite my lip nervously as his grin falters, worrying if I might have said something wrong. When he answers, my brows furrow in surprise. "No way," I reply, laughing as I explain my incredulity. "A cool guy like you? The only reason I could see you not doing anything else is to avoid being seen by the other single teachers around here. You probably carry a stick with you, just in case one of them starts to close in on you."

[Scott Ramirez]

I shrug as she thanks me for the pencil- it really wasn't that big of a deal.. unless no one else had one to let Anna borrow for the test. I look down as I push the sleeves of my white dress shirt up to my elbows. It was autumn and it was starting to get cooler, though it was nowhere as cold as it could get in the dead of winter.
"I have more experience at it." I reply simply, shrugging my shoulders. No one really expected Anna to be any better than me, though, with a little help, she could easily become my equal.
I'm glad that when Anna hears my comment I'm turned so that my back is to her. I wanted to slap myself, why had I said that aloud? I sigh and don't meet as gaze as my momentum spins me to face her before I continue on. "Way.." I say softly, looking down at my lap as I begin to pick at my nails. I can feel my face redden as she goes on that I probably have to beat single teachers away with a stick. A few months after the divorce, a few had started trying to talk to me, but I'd pushed them away- I didn't want to be hurt again. I'd surely screw something up again..

[Annabel DuPont]

"True," I say, nodding my head. I look down at my copy of Gatsby and contemplate on whether or not I should read it again. I've already memorized the book from cover to cover, but there's just something about holding a book in your hand, turning the pages with one hand as you hold a flashlight in the other, your head the only thing holding up the sheet you've decided to make a tent out of on a rainy day.

I frown when Mr. Ramirez says, "Way..." Contrary to what other students think about all of their teachers, I can't imagine him not having a life outside of class. How is he supposed to write about life if he doesn't allow himself to experience it? Then again, I haven't really experienced much of life either, unless you count being ostracized for being a Southern hick a life experience. "How can you get any of your writing done if you stay cooped up in your house all the time?" I can't stop myself from asking, "Even if you only go to the cafe or the bar, at least you're getting ideas from the world around you. Why don't you go to Melee's? I can't tell you how many ideas pop into my head after a night spent there." It was a good thing I worked there, too, otherwise I would have never been allowed in in the first place. "There was a group of people that got thrown out Saturday night just because one guy bought his brother's wife a beer. Imagine the kind of story you could write with that tidbit of information!"

I'm probably starting to sound like a fanatic. I bite my lower lip again and sink down into my seat a bit in order to keep myself from saying anything else. I can't stand talking to other people my age, but when I'm around an adult I can't seem to shut up.

[Scott Ramirez]

I don't reply to her question. I hadn't gotten any writing done lately, I'd take my time up here, at school, with tutoring and then, when I got home, I'd make dinner, grade, and then go to bed early so that I could get up early and come back to school. I'd make up my own process, my own way to try and avoid thinking about her.
I raise my eyebrows as Anna goes on that she'd gotten ideas from Melee's- why was she there? It was a bar, and only adults were supposed to be allowed in. I'm about to ask when the bell rings and I almost sigh with relief. Now I wouldn't have to lie to her. I didn't know why the idea bothered me so much, but I hated lying in general.
I stand and grab my test papers as people begin to come in and I count them out before walking down the rows and handing them to the first person for them to pass back. "I hate giving tests on Mondays, but, the fire drill Friday had messed up my plans." I explain, stopping behind my podium at the front of the room and leaning against it. My dark brown eyes run over my class and I walk over to shut the door as the tardy bell rings.

[Annabel DuPont]

I try not to cringe when the bell rings, glancing around me in hopes that a certain group of girls decide to sit far away from me today. No such luck. They see me in my usual seat and rush to the seats surrounding me, malicious smiles on their faces. I do my best to ignore them as they snicker and talk about my clothes and my accent. I hear one of them whisper that I'm a teacher's pet. I let their words flow over me like rain, sliding across the surface, barely soaking into my skin.

I'm glad that I sit in the front, otherwise I would have never had the test handed to me in the first place. Shaking my head, I place my arm around the test in order to shield my answers and begin the test, the pencil I borrowed from Mr. Ramirez flying across the page with ease, despite the immense pressure placed upon it by my hand.

[Scott Ramirez]

I lean back against my podium, running a hand through my hair. The test was long, so I'd give them.. what, half of class to take it? But, it was my Honors class.. "Mr. Ramirez?" a high pitched voice asks and I look up to see Cindy raising her hand. "Yes?" I reply, raising my eyebrows at the blonde questioningly. "I need help." she huffs and I shake my head. "Its a test, I can't help you." I say simply, shrugging my shoulders. She sticks out her lower lip, obviously thinking this would make me agree, but I look away, down at the attendance sheet on my podium. I pull my pen out of my pocket, deciding I'd do it now. My dark brown eyes look from my students to the paper as I check people off before I finish.
"Who ever's done first can take this to the office for me." I state, straightening up and taking the paper to sit back in my swivel chair.

[Annabel DuPont]

At Mr. Ramirez's declaration, my pace to finish the test quickened. It wasn't particularly hard; I'd read the required texts at least two times, so it didn't take too long to finish. I checked over my answers three times, only needing to change two of my answers. "Dork," I hear from behind me as I stand from my desk, a series of snickers from the others around me following the insult. I smile a strained smile and walk to Mr. Ramirez's desk, placing my test and borrowed pencil in front of him.

"What a suck up," another girl from the group scoffs, "Probably has nothing better to do than bug teachers for extra credit or something nerdy like that. I heard her dad's a drunk." My strained smile falls into a frown, my eyes widening a bit. I needed to get out of there. Now. I glance down at the surface of Mr. R's desk and ask, "D-do you want me to take that to the office, sir?"

[Scott Ramirez]

I look up as Anna comes up to place her test on my desk and a worried expression crosses my face at the look on her face. "If you would." I reply softly, picking it up to hold it out to her. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but it really wasn't my place.. was it?
I look back away from her face, and down at her test. I turn and reach to grab a folder from my shelf, opening it and pulling out my key. I turn back and place her test and the answer key beside each other, dark brown eyes flicking between the two. Finally I'm done, without having to mark a single one. I pull out my pen to circle a one hundred at the top before putting it off to the side. Why couldn't I have more students like Anna?