1. ASHER
Last class on Friday afternoon. Something had gone sour in the A/C vent, which meant Professor Stirling was refusing to turn it on, even though it was hotter than the Devil’s hole. It might’ve been partially my fault from a previous prank a couple weeks back in the teacher’s lounge, but how that smell had traveled all the way to the social science classroom, I had no idea.
Professor Stirling snapped his fingers. “You’ll have exams soon. Focus,” he said, glaring around at everyone.
He wasn’t getting any of my attention. He needed to loosen up. He approached every topic with seriousness, and with that, it felt like I was being lectured at, instead of trying to study for my final exams.
This was my final year. I was almost ready to graduate, but if he had anything to do about it. I’d be staying behind, which wouldn’t be an issue since my Omega Nu brothers would love to keep me around.
“Asher,” he snapped, this time with a little spit from his mouth. “Everyone else is writing notes. What are you doing?” he asked, scoffing. “Playing with yourself under the table.”
I tutted, shaking my head. “That’s inappropriate to ask.” I raised my brows at him. “I’m not, but it’s super inappropriate.”
The other students giggled around me. I was an icon in this classroom and at this school. I gave this place life and laughter. Few other people could say that. Comedians, probably, but this wasn’t a clown college. I should know, I’d tried to find one in the area, but none of them accepted my swimming scholarship.
“Copy these notes.” He snapped his fingers. “You’ll need to make sure you study the theory on these sociologists. It’s important.” He turned his back and picked up a stick of chalk.
“You can at least turn the A/C on,” I groaned.
“If it didn’t smell like fermented yoghurt, maybe I would.” He stabbed the stick of chalk against the board.
The scratch against the board sent a drip of sweat down my back. I’d had enough. There was no getting me to focus. I didn’t have some silly hand fan I could hold next to my face to blow warm air at me.
As the professor had his back turned, I stood, frisking my pockets. I grabbed my lighter. I was going to cool down. Climbing on the desk as the students beside me held it steady. Hiding their chuckles, they knew what I was about to do.
I clicked the lighter before a flame appeared. I held it as high as I could, close to the sprinkler system in the ceiling.
The other students closed their laptops and hid them on their laps under the desk. I’d brought a half-used pad of notepaper. I wasn’t fussed if it got wet; not like I needed this class.
Stretching, I placed the flame against the sprinkler. It took seconds before the floodgates opened wide and rained down on all of us. The second sprinkler in the room thudded as water shot out in a circular motion.
Back in my chair. The only indicator it was me were the people staring—and maybe also a history of pulling stunts like this.
The cool water was a nice relief in this heat. I relaxed into it as joy and excitement came from the others. I’d done my part for society now, they were cooled off, and refreshed. I extended my tongue for a moment before it recoiled at the strange taste.
Professor Stirling stood in front of me when I opened my eyes. The sprinklers went out. Two more teachers came into the room, asking what had happened.
Everyone looked at me, which wasn’t a surprise, since everyone was always looking at me to see what I was going to do next. It was like being a reality TV star, except without the cameras, unless counting the cameras on everyone’s phones.
“Who did that?” His voice cracked like a whip. “Who—did that?”
I’d never seen him so worked up. Then I saw his laptop on the table, alongside the papers he was marking. I’d fucked up, but this wasn’t the first time, and I highly doubted this would be the last time either.
Everyone left the room, leaving me with the professor. The floor was tiled, which was good, since the water was easily mopped away.
“You stay sat,” he said, approaching the classroom door.
He closed the door and pulled the blind down over the slatted window.
“The fact that you’re still in this college after everything you’d done tells me all I need to know,” he said, pacing back and forth. “I’m not worried about the laptop, and I don’t care about the papers. It was a college laptop, and those papers can be reprinted.”
“Ok. I—” I grabbed my bag from beneath the desk. “Everyone was boiling. Nobody was even paying attention to your stupid class.”
“Stupid class,” he scoffed, stepping closer to me. He was drenched. I could see his hairy chest and hard nipples through his shirt. I grinned in his face. “People are in this class because they want to learn about society, about people, about the world.” He sighed, rubbing his fingers and thumb at his eyes. “I guess all they need to do it take one look at you and they see that’s what the future holds.”
I looked at myself, laying my palms up on the desk, swiping away the puddle of sprinkler water. “Yes, all of this,” I told him. “And what’s so wrong with that?”
“You’re so full of yourself, you’ve skated through this class on passes. I should’ve had you failed out months ago, but oh no, your coach thinks you’re some golden boy. Have you even won a gold medal?”
Since he asked. I stood, flinging my bag around my shoulder. “I’ve won more gold medals for swimming than you’ve had students who actually paid attention in class,” I said. “Now, you can thank me for cooling this place down, or you can—”
He reached over and grabbed at my bag. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “You’re going to get a mop and a bucket, and you’re going to clean every single drop of water from this room.”
“Listen,” I said, pulling the bag harder. “I have to be somewhere else.”
“No. You have to be right here, cleaning up the mess you made,” he said, tugging with an odd strength for a teacher. “Now, you might not know this, but I control that final grade. If you want to graduate, I expect you to finally do something.”
I didn’t let anyone speak to me like that. I yanked the bag once more. The zipper opened, and like a spring-loaded jack-in-the-box, everything came out. Items of clothing nobody else had seen before, now laid in the wet on the desk. I stared at it. He stared at it.
Black and white lace, thrills, and silky fabric, now soaking up the water. And on top of it all, a pair of cat ears.
Professor Stirling let go of the bag and smiled. “I don’t like to pry into my students' lives, but this is a strange choice of dress up. I thought Halloween was in October.”