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Mr. Boyd is passingout papers, slapping them down on everyone’s desk rather aggressively. “An F? Come on, Mr. Boyd,” Alex says.
Mr. Boyd stops, turning to look at him. “Problem?”
“Yeah, your grading is wrong.”
Mr. Boyd sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck off out of my classroom, Alex.”
Alex’s eyes widen, mouth hanging open. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
“I just did. Out.” He points to his door.
Alex stomps to the door, slamming it shut. The class stays quiet as he continues passing papers out.
He slaps Jake’s paper down, who grabs it quickly, brow furrowing. Mr. Boyd slams mine down, making the table rattle. “Babe, you gave me a C?” Jake peers over at me.
“I’m not lying because you’re my boyfriend. I gave everyone the grade they deserved.”
Jake’s eyes peer down at my paper, wincing. “Obviously,” he mumbles.
I look down to my paper, a giant D on the front. My eyes flash up, connecting with the ashy gray ones. I narrow my eyes at his smirking face.
Oh, we are going to talk about this.
* * *
The final bellrings and I stand, slamming the graded and ungraded papers on Mr. Boyd’s desk. He peers down at them and then to me. “Problem?”
I ignore him, walking to my things.
“Miss Madison, hang back after class a moment.” A little groan leaves me as I throw myself into my chair in a very unladylike way. The class evacuates, Mr. Boyd taking long strides over to the door, shutting it, which has me sitting up straighter. “I asked if there was a problem and I expect an answer.”
I cross my arms over my chest, leaning forward in my seat a bit. “Yes, I would like to discuss this grade.”
He sits in his chair, grabbing his red pen, immediately marking things on papers. “I wouldn’t,” he mumbles.
“Too bad. You asked me if there was a problem, demanded I give you an answer, and here we are, Mr. Boyd.”
He sighs, tossing his pen down, and spinning in his chair to look at me. “Let’s hear it then.”
“This grade is unfair.”
“How so? You graded a ton of those papers, Miss Madison. You should know why your grade is not perfect.”
I slam my hand down on the table. Anger fueling my movements. “Exactly. I graded many papers, and I don’t see the difference in mine. Take question seven, for instance.” I get up from my chair, walking over to his desk. I slam my paper down, pointing at the question. “This is not the wrong answer.”
He licks his lip, barley glancing at the question, before looking back to me. “It’s not wrong, but it’s not right either.”
This infuriating man.“It’s a matter of opinion.”
“No, it’s not, and that right there is why it’s wrong. This is not a creative class, it’s a class based on facts and facts alone. It’s black and white, no room for gray.”
My mouth drops open. “Are you serious right now?” I prop my hands on my hips. “You know what I think?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
I narrow my eyes.This arrogant, yet handsome, bastard.“I think you’re failing me on purpose.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Really?” I nod. He leans back in his chair, bulging biceps resting behind his head as he crosses them there. Completely relaxed, while it takes everything in me not to have a melodramatic fit. “Well, let’s call the principal down here to file a complaint.”
