chapter 1 - summer 17’

I looked at my timetable for the new year - most of it seemed great. Art with Mr Mithell, everyone knew he was the best. Mrs Stevenson was a sucky chemistry teacher, but I could look past that when I had Miss Rose for PE, I'd never tire of seeing her in yoga pants.
One thing did disappoint me though. Mr Mccarol for English - it's always been my favourite class so the prospect of such an old teacher seemed to drain it a little for me. I decided not to let this put me off though.

I had PE first, so I headed off to the changing rooms. I squeezed my lean legs into my running leggings, pulling a hoodie over my top half. I glimpse into the mirror, checking myself over before I present myself infront of Miss Rose. I've been pretty lucky genetically - I'm petite without being too small and I have a great complexion. My butt has always seemed a bit disproportionately large in comparison to the rest of my body but, due to my Brazilian ancestors I do have a glowing tan all through the year. I have long dark hair which rarely escapes the messy ponytail I wear it in. Today, my hair is curled slightly.

I choose Zumba as my sport in PE. I try to not let the other girls noticed me stare at Miss Rose's gorgeous physique. She's forgotten her sports bra today, and avoids jumping as much as she can, but I can see her breasts jiggle under her tight top. I bite my lip, following the choreography.
My hair has tumbled out of its tie by the end of the lesson. I pant by the water fountain as she approaches me, and hastily try to retie my hair.
"Hey, Charlie, fab today! You were really bouncing along to the rhythm!" She smiles.
She pats me on the arm as she passes, and I almost moan. To stop myself I pull at my hair.
Oh fuck, the tie snapped.
I let the curls tumble down my shoulders as I rush off to change for my next class.

I'm late to class, but that doesn't stop me from beating Mr Mccarol. I sit somewhere near the front, by his desk - this way I won't fall asleep on him and miss half my course. I open my jotter and I'm doodling when she saunters in.

5ft 5, full frame and knows how to rock it. Her mousy brown hair grazes her shoulders, her bright green eyes sparking in the light. She wears skinny trousers and a button up shirt, which should probably have another button to keep in line with the dress code. She's athletic without being skinny, supple and fucking adorable. The full class falls silent.
"Hey" she announces, throwing herself into the swivel chair at the front desk. She must be a probationer, early twenties? "I'm Miss Young. Mr Mccarol is out at a meeting today so I'm covering." She leans forward, giving me a gorgeous view of her ample cleavage. She smiles at the students in front of her; she's smoking hot, and she knows it. "I'm an English teacher, so don't think your getting off easy. I'm gonna write a task on the board for you to complete, and as long as you finish it this period, you can do whatever the hell you want." She laughs, and it sounds like sunshine. She stands to write on the board, and I almost gasp.
That ASS. Her skinny jeans cling to her trunk, exaggerating her beautiful rounded bottom. It's perfect. I imagine myself reaching out, squeezing it's fleshiness in my hand. I'm almost wet at just the thought, and I turn to my jotter immediately, blushing furiously.
"So listen to music, whatever you like. Just get the work done and let me know if you need any help." She smiles knowingly then returns to the chair and begins marking papers.
I can't concentrate for most of the period, and when the bell rings I start to panic. She collects the papers from the back of the room to the front, and she stops when she reaches me.
"I see you've been busy" she says, looking at my almost blank paper. I look at her apologetically, as she grins. "What the hell. It's summer in a few days, everyone knows real work isn't until after summer break anyway. I'll tell the real teach you were called out this lesson." She smiles at me. "Thanks!" I exclaim in disbelief, clumsily packing my stuff as the bell rings. She returns to the chair and I leave, sadly wishing that she was more than just a cover and that Mr Mccarols meeting would never end.