I ended up keeping the panties.

At first, it was an item to jerk off to, and then it became something to ogle at, and then it became a reminder that conversation ever happened at all.
Despite the fact that I was such an asshole, Miss. Way continued to be the teacher she was before. I couldn’t help but almost feel proud of her for just taking the wheel in her life and doing what the fuck she wanted. This pride was also sided with envy and hate because I was rejected, and I hated that she was so confidant and smart, and funny, and well- straight up beautiful.


Miss. Way was something else today. She was wearing a beautiful floral print dress that reached maybe a half inch above her knees. The dress had a heart neckline and a small sleeve that exposed a lot of her upper chest. He boobs were safely tucked away but her prominent collar bone and striking milky pale skin was on display, making her look like a wet dream from the 40’s. Her hair was black and curled, the tips of it just reaching over her shoulders. Her makeup was generally the same every day, a small amount of black eyeliner lining the inside of her eyes, black mascara extenuating her long eyelashes, a small amount of concealer and a pale, pink blush. She looked charming, beautiful, welcoming, she looked like the most amazing thing I had ever laid eyes on.

The bell rang. Loud and annoying, announcing that it was now officially class time, and Miss. Way gracefully walked from the hallway to her desk, her tan 4 inch strap over Mary Janes’ clacking all the way. She took a second to stand at the front of the class, hands clasped together, just observing us for a moment.
“Well,” she begins smiling wide like we are an old friend she hasn’t seen in a long time, “Today, we are writing a paper.” This statement caused a few groans around the room and I watched Miss. Way’s eyebrows furrow.

“What? Why is that such a bad thing? It’s not like I am notorious for giving you guys’ horrible prompts.”
Everyone is silent because that’s true, every time she had given us a prompt, it was usually really interesting.

“So today, we are going to write a narrative story about an event that made you change. Even though it sounds cheesy, it is something that is genuinely important to whom you are today. Maybe a certain band, movie, book, poem, person, a certain day or a chain of events, something made you who you are right now, and I want to know what event caused one of the changes you have made because of a certain event that played part in your life. One thing that made me change, or at least look at the world differently was The Catcher in the Rye. The book is genius, and a bit plot lacking, but also mind numbingly inspiring in its very own way. So for the rest of class, I want you to begin your first draft of who/or what changed you drastically. Ready? Go”.

I sat there for a second; just watching my peers go to work on their essay, pulling out paper and pens’, scribbling down furiously at their notebooks, some of them just staring around, waiting for an idea to slap them in the face. I kept on for a few seconds; before I let my eyes wander to Miss. Way, who was now sitting casually on the edge of her desk, heel clad feet crossed like a true lady. Her eyes eventually caught mine and we stayed like that for a second and it hit me what I was going to do my essay on.

Miss. Way.

My pen was practically flying across the paper, my mind working a mile a minute, about half-way through my paper the bell rang. A lot of people leaned back and blinked their eyes for a second, because in order to write, you had to leave everything for a minute, and when you had to stop, you had to land your space ship because it was time to be grounded again. That thought kind of depressed me. Everyone was gone, a few scarce students here and there that were particularly slow, but the room was more empty than full. I gathered my stuff, two binders, and a pencil. Just as I was a few feet from the door, Miss. Way called out my name, sharp and rushed “Oh Frank! I almost forgot.” I have to halt to a jolting stop and crane my neck around to see what she wants. She has a troubled look on her face and says “You never turned in your paper about what Greek God you would want to be and why. Could you come in to my tutorials today and make that up? It will really help out your average.” I stare at her for a second, just letting my mind wonder to what that paper was about, and then nodded. “I’ll come in today. Thank you for telling me. Have a nice day Miss. Way” I said smiling huge, and I was thrilled when in return she smiled back.

I sat inside my room, my knees up, head lying on top. My room was pretty blank except for a Star Wars poster and a few chips here and there. I sighed deeply, feeling moderately stressed out but mostly just depressed. I couldn’t help but feel a little alone, and unimportant. My mom had been on business trip after business trip when I turned old enough to be left home alone, and my dad was long gone, he ditched her when she was pregnant. A long time ago I had decided that if that is the choice you make, you are no longer a man, you lost that title when you decided not to own up to what was yours. Now, I felt lonely, tired, and I still had homework to do. I internally stabbed myself as I made my way to my black backpack to get my Math homework. When I pulled out the worksheet I let my eyes scan it for a second before I ultimately decided to do it tomorrow morning. I set my alarm clock for 5:30 and turned the light out. Snuggling into the warmth of my dark blue comforter I relaxed and felt myself drifting to sleep.

My alarm shocked me awake, making my whole body jolt from underneath the warmth of my covers. The noise quickly started giving me a head ache and I turned and slammed my hand on the ‘Off’ button, silencing the loud, repetitive beeping. Shoving my face in my pillow I groaned out loud because my sleep was not fulfilling enough and my bed was so warm compared to the cool air that floated in my room. Finally, I took a deep breath and stood up, walking down the brown wooden floor to my bathroom. Turning the nozzle to hot, steam quickly filled and thickened the air, and I got in, letting the warm drops of water relax my muscles’ and wake me up.

I despised myself for sleeping instead of doing my homework. I was finishing the last problem and as I scribbled in the last and probably wrong answer, I almost felt tears of joy well up in my eyes. I hated math, not because I was particularly bad at it, but because it was so fucking complicated, my brain could barely keep up, never mind my sleep ridden brain. I put away my homework and grabbed my brush out of my desk drawer to begin brushing my knotted bed head. When I finished styling my hair the best I could, I went to the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee, its bitter aroma surrounding my still exhausted body. Eventually, 7:00 rolled around and I left to my car, a beat up faded red Ford, to go to school.
As I rolled up to my high school parking lot I turned down my tape (Hopeless Romantic) and began looking for a spot. After a long, slightly chaotic search I found an okay spot that was close to the school and rushed to my first period.
The day was long winded and made me want to choke myself several times, but I tried to remind myself that tomorrow was our last day.

At some point, I had gotten home and in bed because I woke up to my alarm clock and groggily shut it off. My mind exploded with energy when I remembered something that sounded like the best news of my life, today was my last day of high school, and I wouldn’t have to go back after the graduation ceremony next week. This news was seriously huge, and I couldn’t help but feel a little upset along with the jubilant feeling I was having. I felt a bittersweet tang in my stomach, but continued to get ready despite the dread and excitement that was filling my cluttered, morning fogged mind.
Your schedule changes on your second semester. Last semester, I had Miss. Way’s English class for my lunch period, but this year I had her for my third period, and today we spent two hours in first period, two hours in second period, and an hour and a half in third- Miss. Way’s class.

I spent the four hours in Gym and Spanish fucking anticipating, looking forward to Miss. Way’s class and now, sitting down at my desk felt like a burden had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt excitement ricochet in my stomach. I was waiting to see what Miss. Way would do for the last day she’ll see us in her class. The bell rings and I am about shaking in excitement as Miss. Way sashays to the front of the room, today she was wearing a long dark maroon skirt that hit an inch below the top of her knee cap, and a low cut black shirt that was tight in the middle sucking in her gut, on top of that was a black blazer and black pumps to match, her hair tied in a low bun. She looked heart-stopping.

She smiled, her lined eyes twinkling at us, cheeks rosy. And then the moment I had been waiting or finally happened, “Hi there.” She said. Some people mumbled some hellos’ back and she grinned again. “I got wind from the Reading teachers’ that you guys’ did not read The Catcher in the Rye this year, and I just couldn’t have it, so today, I give you a little piece of my mind and soul, today I read to you something that made me who I am, today, we read The Catcher in the Rye.” She announces. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. I glanced around the room but surprisingly, no one looked pissed that we were going to have to listen to her read for an hour and a half. I sat back in my chair as she opened her orange and yellow book, and began to read. “If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all that before that had me, and all that other David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.”


As the Miss. Way read the last bit of the book, I felt my eyes tear up a bit. Her voice rang in my ears as she finished the chapter, racing the bell. “…A lot of people, especially this one psychoanalyst guy they have here, keep asking me if I am going to apply myself when I go back to school next September. It’s a stupid question, in my opinion. I mean how do you know what you’re going to do till you do it? The answer is, you don’t. I think I am, but how do I know? I swear it’s a stupid question. D.B. isn’t as bad as the rest of them, but he keeps asking me a lot of questions, too. He drove up last Saturday with this English babe that’s in this new picture he’s writing. She was pretty affected, but very good looking. Anyway, one time she went to the ladies’ room way the hell down in the other wing, D.B. asked me what I thought about all this stuff I just finished telling you about. I didn’t know what the hell to say. If you want to know the truth, I don’t know what I think about it. I’m sorry I told so many people about it. About all I know is, I sort of miss everybody I told about. Even old Stradlater and Ackley, for instance. I think I even miss that goddam Maurice. It’s funny. Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody”

As Miss. Way closed her lips around the last word, the entire room was silent except for a few people who were whimpering, trying not to cry. I think we sat there for an entire 3 minutes before someone said “Holy shit.” And that pretty much spoke for the class. Miss. Way smiled her mega watt smile and announced that she had a gift for us, and then pulled a box from behind her desk just as the bell rang. She tore open the box and told everyone they were dismissed. As each person walked by, she handed them their own copy of The Catcher in the Rye. I felt like a kid on Christmas when Miss. Way handed me my book, but then felt it times a million when she slid a note in between the cover and the front page, smiling at me. I left the classroom feeling like a king.

When I got home from school, I ran to my room and tore open my book bag, grabbing the book and opening the letter with greedy hands. I felt my stomach swoon and a single tear dropping from my eye as I finished reading the letter. My stomach clenched and I smiled huge, finally feeling like I meant something. Just as I opened my mouth to scream with joy I heard the door unlocking and keys jingling along with the click-clacks of heel clad feet. “Frankie?” my mom called out to me. “Frankie, I got you something.” I smiled again and set the book and my note down, walking into the foyer.
“Hi Mom” I said giving her a kiss and a long hug.
“Hi baby.” She cooed “I am so proud of you, I- I got you something” She said tearing up. She motioned me to go outside and I almost fell down when I saw a new, clean, amazing, black Ford sitting in front of the house. I turned to my mom, my mouth hanging open and she was smiling and crying at the same time and for a second I felt my heart stop.

It was like waking up from a coma, I had been asleep all these years, and now I was ready to start living.


“Dear Frank,
I hope you make sure no one finds this because that could cause quite the dilemma. I hope that the book had an effect on you like it did on me. Read it if you ever feel like you don’t matter, that’s what I do. Teaching you this year was a pleasure. You are a wonderful writer and an amazing person. You have so much talent and trust me when I say this, you are extremely attractive. Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice your obvious flirting last semester. Your essay touched my heart Frank. I am so glad I could inspire you and help you become who you are now. That was my dream from the second I entered college. All I can advise you Frank, is to dream- dream big, and live however you fucking want. Hell, if I wore dresses while teaching an entire school year, you can pretty much do anything. Break the rules of society when it deems itself necessary, because since when have you ever been a rule following type of person? That’s right. And please, if you can do me any favor in return for what I’ve done for you, remember this, and live by it:
Art is the weapon
against life as a symptom
Defend yourself.
Go out into the world Frank, search and destroy.

-Miss. Way”