• Retta walked through the front door of her new school, Bern Union. She was a sophomore, but only fifteen at the moment. She walked through the halls nervously. She didn't know anyone here. And just her luck, her locker between two brawny football players. She sighed as she pushed her way through the crowd. “Hey sweet thing!” one of the jocks said leaning against her locker. “What to have a little fun before class?” he asked, suggesting a rude action. “If you don't move your butt off my locker, I'll kick you so hard you'll become a girl.” Retta said glaring at the jock. “Feisty aren't we? Maybe I should fix that.” he said raising a hand as to smack her. Retta closed her eyes in preparation. “Michel Erik! I would have presumed that you have grown a little over the summer, but I see your the brute as you were last year.” said a man. He was taller than she was by several inches. “Sorry Mr. Manson. It won't happen again.” the jock apologized. “We all know it will happen again.” the man sighed. He looked mid twenties with sandy brown hair. He didn't have big muscles, but was well built. He could hold out in a fight. He was not tan but not exactly pale. She could tell he would rather read than doing physical actives. “You might want to get to class before the bell rings.” he said turning to walk away. “ Thank you.” she yelled after the man before opening her locker to get her books. She hurried away to her first class, history. She found the class room easily enough, but finding a seat would would be harder. She found the closest to the door, so she could bolt at the end of class. Everyone was talking, catching up with old friends, everyone except Retta. “Just like old times,” Retta mumbled to herself. She was an outcast at her old school too. Sure she had friends. Two in fact, but one acted crazy. Retta started to reminisce of the memories of her friends, until she heard the door close. The room went silent as the teacher entered. “Hello class. I'm Mr. Manson and welcome to history. Let's start with the history of this summer. What did you guys do?” Mr. Manson said energetically. It was the guy from before. He seemed very opened minded to Retta. “Why don't I start. I did stuff.” Mr. Manson said glancing at Retta. “Go on.” a girl in the front row prompted Mr. Manson. She was surrounded by boys. 'She must be the popular at this school,' Retta thought dimly to herself. “I don't think so,” he said with a cheery grin. “Well this summer I. . .” the girl started. It seem to Retta that she loved ti talk about herself. She bored Retta. Why did she care what she did? Retta got out her notebook that her friends gave her before she left. She wrote poems to stories to anything she wanted. Before she even started she stole a glance at Mr. Manson. He was staring right out her. They locked gazes briefly before she returned to her notebook. She wrote and wrote until she had a small poem. She loved her poem. She laid her pencil down in time to feel a presence looking over her shoulder. To her horror it was Mr. Manson. “No notes Miss. . . .” he started searching for a name. “Retta McBride.” she said humiliated. “Well let's hear what you have to say Miss McBride. Oh it is a poem. A love poem. To be with you is what I want,” he started. Retta sunk down in her desk as he finished he reading her poem. When he finished a jock yelled, “I'd be willing to love her. Love her all night long.” Retta sunk lower into her seat. “Shut up Jake! I think it is sweet that even a girl like her can fall in love,” the girl from the front row said. Okay Retta took offense to that, especially since she didn't have a boyfriend. “Kassy, Kassy there is enough of me to go around.” Jake said arrogantly. “Oh baby, oh baby more.” Melody mocked. “That's what you told me this summer!” He said ; highfiving one of his friends. “Okay! Let's move on! So Retta what did you do this summer, besides writing love poems to your boyfriend?” the teacher asked, changing the subject. He looked like he was desperate to change the subject. “I don't have a boyfriend,” Retta mumbled. “What? You're kidding me! Most girls your age have a boyfriend or two! Just ask Melody” Mr. Manson said in bewilderment. “Thanks for reminding me,” she muttered under her breathe. The bell rang signaling the end of class. “Thank God,” she muttered as she ran for the door. She hurried to her locker to put her books away and to get to English. She got though the first part the school day. Only one hundred seventy-nine and a half days left of school. She walked into the cafeteria and found an empty table in the corner. She hated waiting in line, so she always packed her lunch. She started to eat her ham sandwich, when a shadow appeared on the table. “Would you mind if I sat with you?” a familiar voice asked. Retta looked up to see Mr. Manson. Retta slowly nodded. At least it was better than sitting by herself. “So are you doing in your other classes?” he asked trying to start a conversation. “Pretty good except English. Stupid grammar.” she told him. “Well if you ever need any help, I think I maybe able to help.” he told her. Just the of them alone made the butterflies in her stomach flutter. The bell rang signaling the end of the lunch period. “Well I guess I'll see you later Retta. He said getting up and putting his tray away. Just hearing him say her name made her heart flutter. “Crap! I have a crush on my teacher!” Retta thought to herself. Oh well, it was only a crush and as long as she didn't do anything rash it would just fizzle out. She hoped. She realized there was a minute before the bell would ring, she hurried herself to her next class. Retta had barely survived the first day of school. Barely. She was walking home. The school wasn't exactly close, but it that far. It was a good twenty minute walk, but Retta didn't mind. It gave her a chance it think. Hardly any cars went this way. Retta hated noise while she thought. She wished she was back in Rossville with her friends. All two of them. Both of them were smart, but by the way one of them acted you would assume she was mentally retarded. She wasn't. She was just different. As she was thinking she didn't realize a car pulling up beside her. “Retta need a ride?”