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My gaze flickers to the teacher, then I zip the pouch, deciding not to worry about the pen. It’s a clicky pen with a nice matte finish that feels good between my fingers, so I click the top and decide to try it out.
Ooooh.
Itglidesacross the page as I write my name at the top of the paper.
This is a great pen.
I don’t remember stealing it, but I can see why I did. It writes like a dream.
I’m a total school supply nerd, so the good pen gives me a little happiness boost as I start answering the questions on my test.
I finish early and just as enamored of the pen as I was when I first picked it up, so I inspect it more carefully, looking for a brand name so I can order a whole pack of them.
Hmm, no brand name, but what’s that little circle on top of the clicky part? Looking at it closely, I find the inside has a screen texture, almost like the microphone on my iPhone.
“All right, everybody. Time’s up. Pass your papers back to the front, please.”
I put down my pen and hand my test to the girl next to me. The lecture portion of class is about to start, so I draw out my notes and open my textbook.
I guess I’ll try to figure out where I can get more of these pens later.
___
I arrive early to my last class of the day, which makes me really happy. I always worry about running late to this one because Professor DeMarco isnotkind to kids who show up late.
When he’s nice to you, it’s like sitting in the sun on a warm summer day.
When he’s cold to you, it’s like being stranded in a tundra wearing nothing more than a bathing suit.
The only time I got here late, I left feeling sick to my stomach, so I’ve made an extra effort to get here on time since then.
Since I get myself set up for class early, I grab my phone to check it quickly.
I haven’t texted Silvan all day despite my manners urging earlier that maybe I should thank him for sending the car since it has made my day immensely better. I keep waiting for something to pop up from him, but there’s still nothing.
“No phones in my classroom, Miss Bradwell.”
My heart jolts, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment as I glance up at Professor DeMarco. “Sorry, I’ll put it away.”
His lips tug up as he walks over to the table. “I’m just teasing you. Class hasn’t started yet. You’re free to check it until you’re on my time.”
“I always feel like I’m on your time when I’m in your classroom,” I murmur, smiling faintly.
His smile widens. “Good. Did you find time to go over the material on misattribution of arousal last night?”
“I did. I even went over it in the car on the way here.” My heart thuds and my skin heats because even though Ididgo over it, I know I’ll panic and probably forget how to word if he quizzes me on it right now.
“Good. I hope you’re prepared. My tests tend to be brutal.”
“I am. I will be.” I fumble for the right phrasing and lack confidence that I nailed it even though I’ve sputtered the only two options I can think of.
He gazes at me, still managing to make me feel like I failed to find the right one.
Without another word, his gaze leaves me, and he walks back to his podium at the front of the class.
I breathe a sigh of relief and grab my pen with shaky hands. The nervous sensation lingers since I still felt like he was unconvinced when he walked away, but I try to shove it down and focus as he tells everyone to open their textbooks to page 77.
___
