I'm clearly no superman.
I just sense that when one of the students finds a way to stretch the system, they tend to exceed the limits it builds for them.
Sitting in this chair in my classroom, I wonder if he'll show up.
"Goooood morning Mr. G!" Adreslai announces as she strides in. A bright girl of no more than five feet and four inches. She wears a black t-shirt that says Led Zepplin - 1968, a charcoal-grey pair of leggings, and maroon set of Vans. She has the personality of the dew on a freshly-cut lawn at sunrise. Coming from a Hindu household, Adreslai tends to stay in touch with the joyous, free-spirited soul inside her heart.
"Good morning, Miss Kumar. Is Jeremaiah going to be joining us this morning?" I ask.
"I believe he said he wou-"
"I'M HERE!" he says with an exasperated heave of air and a slam into the open doorway. Adreslai breaks out in a teasing laugh, "Pffft! Did you just run from Pasadena in a marathon!?"
"You're funny!" Jeremiah says with a prick of sarcasm. He adjusts the falling backpack over one of his shoulders and then swings it onto the sofa against the wall next to the door. He's a tall, fit young man with dark black hair that sweeps over his head and flares at the crown above his forehead. Today he wears a peach-colored sweater over a white button-up. The perfectly-angled triangle of his black tie that sleekly lie between the sweater and the shirt.
He slides on a blue blazer that compliments the khaki jeans and white Keds.
"No, as a matter of fact," Jeremiah starts, "I was driving my dad's Mustang here and four blocks before I got to the school, the car gets a flat. I called my dad and he said to leave the car there and he'd go change the tire later. So, there I am, walking down the sidewalk and this stray cat starts following me."
"Cats are adorable," says Brandy as she walks in with her hair in a messy bun, sweatpants, and a pink hoodie that reads Coffee is my Kryptonite in bold, white lettering. "Sorry, I just came from theatre rehearsal," she says shortly before throwing herself on the sofa.
"THIS ONE WAS SENT FROM HELL," Jeremiah exclaims, "IT JUMPED ON MY BACKPACK AND STARTED SCRATCHING! WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY'RE CUTE?"
"Just saying that I believe-" Brandy begins before I interrupt her.
"Ok! I'm sure the other two will be joining us shortly," I presume as I attempt to start the meeting.
"Probably. Late as always though," Adreslai says from her place in the desk directly across from mine.
"She was most likely admiring him again," Jeremiah teases as he takes a sip from the coffee he just made with the machine I keep on the counter at the far end of the room. He stands by the window that outlooks the roof of the boiler room and the cafeteria dumpsters on the other side.
"You're not wrong," Brandy's voice mumbles from where her face is buried in one of the throw pillows.
"I assume nothing," I say, slightly amused by their naïve teenage outlook.
"Anyways, I told Lucas to get an envelope to Dylan Chase," I tell them.
"He's that football player everyone keeps talking about, right?" Adreslai asks in her thick Indian accent.
"Yeppy," says Brandy's muffled voice.
A knock at the door.
"Umm, I found a letter in my backpack yesterday that told me to come here this morning," he says with a puzzled tone in his voice.
"Yes, Mr. Chase, I wanted to inform you about our..." I search for the words to use, "...our little club.
"Well, what's the club?" Dylan asks.
Brandy sits up immediately and turns her attention towards Jeremiah, who awkwardly sips from his mug amid the uncomfortable feeling set off by the question.
"I believe you should sit down, Mr. Chase," I say optimistically.
New members are always skeptical.
Brandy motions to the spot next to her on the sofa, "Take a seat, Dylan."
Adreslai has a devilish joy in her eyes.
With a grin, she says, "Your world is about to get a whole lot more exciting, Dylan Chase!"