SHE STOOD THERE for a few seconds in pure horror. The beautiful sat on the padded cushions attached to the wheeled-chair, skimming through an assortment of papers on top of his desk --obviously not the young student he appeared to be.

"That's Mr. Wolfe," Tabatha whispered. She nudged Sophie's elbow, and snickered when the girl responded with a dumb, "Huh?" 

Tabatha gestured to the beautiful man and then started walking toward him. Sophie's lips pressed together as she tried not to spontaneously combust. 

Mr. Wolfe looked up as Tabatha approached his desk, one eyebrow quirked curiously as he welcomed her. His voice was rich and smooth, just like she'd remembered it, and Sophie sucked in a deep breath. Tabatha motioned for Sophie to join them, as she said, "Sophie's new here. She's my roommate."

"Hi," Sophie mumbled as his eyes slid toward her. 

He blinked at her. There was a slight change in his expression; a burst of shock shot through his azure colored irises. But it was gone almost instantaneously. He smiled slightly, a thin twitch to his lips. It seemed to be more of a formality than kindness. "I believe I owe you an apology, then," he said. He dipped his head in a slight nod. "I thought you were one of the office personnel." 

She smiled back tensely and nodded. "It's fine."

It most certainly was not fine because her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tore her gaze away, focusing on the many maps that were plastered to the stone walls. She couldn't read them --or make sense of them, because her head was a jumbled mess. Her cheeks burned.

Tabatha chirped, "Is it okay if she sits with me?"

"I don't have a problem with it. Just remember the rules; if you talk while I talk, you'll be in trouble."

"Got it," Tabatha said. She grabbed Sophie by the arm and started pulling. 

Mr. Wolfe shuffled his papers on his desk. "Nice to officially meet you, Sophie."

"Likewise," Sophie forced out. 

Tabatha brought her over to one of the many desks that clustered around the room and slid into it. She motioned for Sophie to take the one beside her. Sophie put her backpack in the chair, so no one would steal it, and then walked around the row to sit down. Once she was seated, Tabatha leaned over. Her chin rested in her palm. "So," she drawled, "What exactly was he apologizing for?"

Sophie sighed, and felt a bit of the color finally drain from her face. "When I was in the front office, meeting the Headmaster, I ran into him. And he was kind of cold to me."

"What do you mean kind of cold," Tabatha asked. Her eyebrows crinkled as if the idea of Mr. Wolfe being anything near the mean spectrum of attitude and emotion were completely impossible. 

She shrugged in response. "He glared a lot. And told me to watch it." 

Tabatha made a face. "Huh." She lifted her head and glanced down toward her backpack. She pulled it up into her lap and started to fish around. 

The conversation ended at that. Sophie settled back in her seat, eyes shifting around the classroom. Mr. Wolfe stood and walked around his desk, until he could lean against the intricately carved edge of the mahogany. His arms were folded across his chest; it made the muscles in his arms bulge a bit beneath his pale lilac button-up. The sleeves were rolled up around his elbows and his collar was starched, firmly pressed down around a black tie with thin little white stripes through it. 

She pursed her lips again and shifted her gaze to his face.

And flinched when she realized he was staring at her. A slender brow was arched; he knew she'd been checking him out. She tried hard not to blush and look down again, this time arching an eyebrow back at him, and then turning her gaze to the door. More students filed in, until finally the seats were completely filled. Mr. Wolfe cleared his throat and the chatter that had clouded the air settled down into a tense silence --at least on Sophie's part. Everyone else was the picture of ease, while she mentally freaked out and tried to wipe the stupid red out of her face.

"Welcome to Historical Studies." Mr. Wolfe smiled softly in welcome, his blue eyes scanning over the multitude of faces before him. "I'm Kei Wolfe, your teacher. You may call me Mr. Wolfe. As this is a general class, and one required to be taken at least twice, I already know at least half of you in this room."

Sophie looked around. Some kids were slouching in their chairs, not paying any attention at all. Even Tabatha looked a little bored, as she fiddled with her sparkly red pencil. Sophie already knew Tabatha had taken this class before, so she assumed the other non-attentive students had already as well.

Mr. Wolfe continued, "But, since we still have new students, I figured we'd spend our first hour together playing a little game."

Tabatha let out a small sigh and one of the other kids groaned. "Do we all have to play?" He whined.

"Do you all want to be graded?" Was Mr. Wolfe's retort.

The kid fell silent at that and Mr. Wolfe's smile grew. He glanced toward the clock that hung above the while dry-erase board that covered most of the front wall. Then his gaze shifted back toward his students. "Everyone will stand and tell us your name, and then two truths and one lie. Active members of our audience will have to guess which statement is the lie. Got it?"

A symphony of grumbled responses were his reply. 

Mr. Wolfe clapped his hands together, "Good. Alright. Let's start with you," he said and pointed to a kid sitting in the front row. That kid stood and turned to face the rest of the class, his arms folded behind his back. He looked nervous, and sounded it too as he began to speak. It took the class a good minute or so to guess his lie. Then the kid was able to sit down, and the girl next to him stood to present her three statements. 

The game played on until it was Tabatha's turn. 

She stood up beside her seat and smiled cheekily. "Alright. My favorite color is crimson red. I was raised by my grandmother. And Sophie is my roommate." She happily pointed to Sophie, who pursed her lips in response.

"Any guesses?" Mr. Wolfe asked.

"Sophie isn't her roommate?" One kid asked, as he tilted his head to the side.

Tabatha shook her head. "Nope. That's true. Right, Soph?"

Sophie grimaced as the attention once again returned to her --and she could feel a certain pair of blue orbs piercing through the side of her face. "Yeah."

"Your favorite color is crimson red?" A girl raised her hand as she answered. 

Tabatha beamed and nodded. "That's the lie. I actually prefer a darker, cherry shade of red." 

Sophie snorted before she could stop herself. She slammed a hand over her mouth and nose, as the entire class turned to stare at her, and Tabatha snickered at her misfortune. "Your turn."

"Okay," Sophie said, flustered, as she stood. 

She had always hated giving class presentations in school. Standing in front of a massive crowd of judgmental demons her age had always been a weak point. Sophie fidgeted and tried to fix her shirt, even though it didn't really need to be fixed as she tried to think of three things to say. 

"Any day now," she heard Mr. Wolfe sigh. 

"My name is Sophie," she said almost immediately, her entire face flushing a bright red. She wanted to cry, as anxiety swelled up inside her chest and threatened to spread to her throat. "In case any of you haven't already realized that. This is my first year here at Redstone and I like to write in my free time. I also like fish."

"Fish!" Tabatha shouted out almost instantly, pointing at Sophie.

Sophie could have kissed her. "Yeah, I hate seafood," she said, nodding hastily as she slid back into her seat. She wanted to disappear further down and hide for the rest of the period, but her ego refused to let her. It's bad enough she'd stood up looking like a fool in front of the class --and knowing her luck, she'd end up slipping and sliding off onto the floor. 

Slowly, the rest of the class stood and gave their three little lines. It took about an hour, which gave Sophie ample time to process the mess of thoughts inside her head. 

Although, most of it revolved around Mr. Wolfe.

She couldn't believe he was her teacher. Normally, teachers were nice. They were mature adults; even the mean ones were never as rude as he'd been to her in the hallway. He didn't even look old enough to be a teacher, either. He looked eighteen, maybe close to nineteen. Not even.

But the worst part was, was that she'd developed something of a small crush on him, over the past day or so --just enough for him to hold her thoughts captive.

Sophie wasn't supposed to like her teacher!

When the last student slumped back into his chair, Mr. Wolfe moved away from his desk and walked toward a small table pressed against the wall beside the door. He picked up a pack of papers, and said, "This is the class syllabus. We'll use the last thirty minutes of class to go over it. Next class we will start the actual curriculum." 

He passed them out, giving several to the first person in each row so they could pass them back. Once everyone had one, he began to go over some of the rules and expectations. Thirty minutes passed in the blink of an eye; all of a sudden, the bell was ringing and students were standing. 

Mr. Wolfe moved back behind his desk and reclaimed his seat. Sophie stood, and shoved her syllabus into her backpack. Tabatha waited at the end of the row for her. When she neared the brunette, Tabatha wiggled her fingers at Mr. Wolfe. 

"Have a great day, Mr. Wolfe!" 

As they walked out the door, Tabatha leaned over and whispered in Sophie's ear. "I told you you'd like him. Is he drop dead sexy or what?!" 

Sophie flushed uncomfortably in response and Tabatha dragged her off to the next class.