Page 11 of Fall Fake-Out

I’d better be certain I’m ready for that step before I ask her out for real, because if she ever says yes, there’s no going back.

Ari

It takes a special breed of person to teach high school.

That is, if you want to survive teens these days.

I’d like to think I’m that special breed.

You can’t just say, ‘Hi, I’m Ms. Langford,’ and expect to grab the students’ attention. No, you have to do more. Really commit to the job.

That's exactly why I have a pillow stuffed under my shirt, making it look like I’m pregnant. This is me committing to The Great Gatsby. The entire theme of the book is based on deception. So, at three a.m., when I couldn’t sleep because of first-day-of-school jitters, I came up with the plan to deceive my students. Really drive the theme of the book home.

It’s going to be epic.

The first bell rings, and within thirty seconds, students begin piling into my classroom. I feel a few curious eyes on me, but I remain behind my desk, pretending to be busy.

“Did you see Stevie this morning?” A girl with long blonde hair walks into the room, talking to her friend. They take a seat at the two desks closest to me.

“Yes, the huzz looked so bad today,” the friend replies.

Translation: the guy every girl has a crush on looked hot this morning, even though she said he looked bad.

I’m fluent in teen slang. Sometimes.

I recognize girls like them. Popular girls. I used to be one. And Stevie is probably the captain of the football team. The high school clichés recycle through year after year.

The first girl runs her fingers through her hair. “I look chopped, but I swear he smiled at me.”

“Low key, you never look chopped,” her friend gives the classic supportive friend response. “Besides, Stevie is totally into you. I see how he watches you. Give it a few weeks, and you’ll be together.”

“Ugh. It better not take that long. I’m planning to make a move this weekend, to get things going.”

The tardy bell rings, and I get up from my desk, moving to the front of the room. “Okay, class. Quiet down.” I infuse my voice with authority. It’s important to start out strict and ease off as the year goes on. And then you wait—an important part of teaching. Wait for the respect and silence before speaking.

Everyone stops talking and turns to face me. Just as I’m about to introduce myself, Wade walks into the room, announcing his entrance like a tardy teenager who loves to be the center of attention.

“Hey, hey, hey!” His arms go out wide.

The students erupt with noise once again as Wade’s eyes shoot to me. His gaze lands on my pregnant belly, causing his brows to drop.

His lips twitch. “I didn’t know congratulations were in order.”

I shake my head, pleading for him not to out my lie.

Instead, he leans in closer so only I can hear. “I’ve always had a thing for pregnant women.”

My lips purse in an effort not to smile.

“Bruh, are you our teacher today?” a boy in the back asks.

“Negative.” Wade turns to me. “Why haven’t you introduced yourself yet?”

“Why are you in my classroom?” I snap back.

The students oooh like a fight’s about to break out, reminding me that I shouldn’t be talking to my boss that way. Wade, as my principal, is going to take some time getting used to.

“What I meant to say,” I try again, softer, “is that I was about to introduce myself when you walked in and disrupted the class.”