Life Couldn't Get Harder

“Victoria, have you seen the new math teacher?”
I peered over my laptop at Catherine Achers, my best friend, and blinked my eyes gently, clueless. She set her lunch tray down and stared at me expectantly. I sighed, knowing this meant she needed my undivided attention. Reluctantly, I shut the laptop and set it next to my untouched lunch.
“No,” I said, and braced myself for the onslaught of Catherine’s impending rant.
“Oh my God, he is sooo hot. Like, super hot. I felt dehydrated just looking at him!” I scowled, groaning at her new infatuation. This was a preview of the whole year, I could tell. Everyday, she’d go on and on and on about how he said something really funny, or looked at her while explaining a lesson, yadda yadda yadda. I’d have to learn to tune it out like I already did much of the time, and if it got bad enough, I’d have to spend my lunch periods in the bathroom or something drastic like that. Catherine may have been my best friend, but she got annoying really fast.
“I don’t care, Catherine. I really don’t care.” I opened my laptop to start writing again, but she slammed it down on the table and leaned over her tray, putting us face to face. Her bright blue eyes stared into my own unblinking green.
Do you believe me about her being unbearably annoying yet?
“You haven’t seen him, Tori! Just wait. You’ll die of heatstroke in math.”
“You said the same thing about Mr. Jennings last year, he was married.”
“Well, Mr. Ashton is only twenty-one, is single, and is porn-star hot.”
I winced. Not an image I wanted.
“Besides, you're into older men; you told me yourself. All that maturity and experience BS gives you a girl-boner.” My cheeks flared. I’d mistakenly admitted that little fact when asked what I looked for in a guy during Truth or Dare at a birthday party freshmen year, and Catherine had been mocking me after since. It was irritating as hell, not to mention embarrassing, especially since she hadn’t bothered to keep it a secret.
I’ll bet you’re asking yourself why we’re still friends. To be honest, I don't know. I mean, her mom and sister hate me and her dad is my friend.. Sorta. We never hang out anymore and it's not like I couldn't find a new best friend, I have a whole list of people in line for that job.
“Catherine, please just shut up,” I said, picking up my laptop again in an attempt to distance myself from the topic at hand. My friend shrugged and set to eating her lunch. Funnily enough, I’d lost my appetite. As always...
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The lunch bell rang and I scurried away from Catherine as fast as I could disappearing into the crowd of students. Five flights of stairs took me to the third floor, which held my next class --- you guessed it --- Math Core Plus I. Mr. Ashton’s new room was Room 307, the room of my Math class from ninth grade. I was almost to the door when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whipped around to find my guy friend Evan Pierce being pulled along with the current of the school’s rush hour. I flashed him a sympathetic grin as he reached out to me, and then entered my math room.
The room itself hadn’t changed much. It was still an ugly shade of green, and the desks still faced the same direction. A few of the posters had been replaced or eliminated all together. All in all, the classroom I’d spent much of my freshmen year in remained.
The only noticeable difference was the teacher slumped over the cluttered desk.
Light brown hair lay on his head, cut short with thin bangs. When he looked up, I got the full effect of his image. He was certainly not perfect, with an over-sized nose and an oval head. He had pale skin, but it was still a shade darker than my own pale complexion. I hated to admit it, but Catherine hadn’t been exaggerating this time.
Mr. Ashton smiled at me, and I felt a blush creep up my neck. I forced a timid smile back.
“Take a seat wherever you like for today,” he said. I nodded and found a seat in the front next to a wall, picking up my books and refusing to stare at the newest piece of meat like everyone else in the classroom. I could already tell the girls in the room found this new, young, teacher cute. For now. It would only be a matter of time before they got over him. I, on the other hand, refused to think of him as cute or even pay a speck of attention to him.
Minutes later, the room was filled and the bell rang. A few stragglers burst in at the last second and took the remaining seats. Mr. Ashton ignored them and addressed the class, grinning broadly. He had all the girls’ attention instantly.
“Hey, class. Welcome to Math Core Plus I. I’m Mr. Ashton, your new teacher. Alright. If you’ll just let me take attendance, we can get started. Alright.” Giggles and whispers filled the air as he plucked a sheet of paper off the top of one pile. I turned to the girl closet to me and commented on his dialogue. He seemed nervous. When he cleared his throat, the room went silent, and he began calling off our names in alphabetical order, starting with Armstrong, Elton and going down the list. Several names in, he called me.“Riverton, Victoria…” Obnoxiously, I raised my hand with a, “Uh huh yep yep,” rising a few giggles from the class. The feeling of his eyes on me made me more self-conscious than ever before. “Any nicknames?”
“Yeah,” I grunted, struggling to keep from laughing. “I go by Bobby.” Mr. Ashton cocked his head and winked. “Aright Bobby. What's your real nickname?” He asked with a short chuckle. A girl behind me interjected and told him that people call my Vicky, or Tori. A girl on the other side of the room shouted out slut and whore and a boy in the back grunted out that I was better at ehem than any girl in this class. I giggled at the attention and lifted my legs on a box that sat in front of me.
Mr. Ashton nods and scribbles something down. “Why don't I call you Tori?” He asks, casually looking up. I shrug and go back to doodling on my math book.
After attendance, he called for the class’s interest again. Every student watched him carefully, some with distaste (mostly the guys who were worried about losing their girlfriends to him), some indifferent (the slackers of junior year), but most with curiosity, myself included.
“You have two choices. Either we play a dumb grade school get-to-know-you game, or you can fill out this worksheet on your interests, learning styles, and other boring things like that. So which will it be? Game? Or homework?” When phrased like that, the decision was unanimous, and Mr. Ashton cleared a spot on his desk for him to sit while we talked about ourselves.
He started with himself, at all the girls’ pleads. “I’m Drew Ashton, and I went to Widner.” Murmurs could be clearly heard from many of the preps, and their boyfriends all frowned. I groaned and rolled my eyes, everyone seemed to go to Widner nowadays.
After his little blurb, he started at the back of the room with the jocks and popular kids, who all announced they were on the football team (go figure), and went forward from there. Five people later, it was my turn.
“I'M VICTORIA LAWSON AND I'M AWESOME!” I grin proudly, earning more laughter.
“Really?” asked the teacher. I nodded happily, feeling my cheeks heat up again. “I’ll have to remember that one…” He grinned to himself, fake scribbling awesome on his paper, and moved onto the next row. I let out a giggle and checked my schedule to see where I was headed after this torture was over. Creating Writing class. Cool. I had been thrilled to get in; the past few years the class had been filled with seniors, who got first call---
My eyes widened as I read and reread the instructor’s name.
Ashton, G.