School For Troubled Boys

by Lina Langley

  He looked me up and down, a smirk on his face as if he didn’t believe me. “Really?”

  “Yes,” I said with a snicker. “Really. Why would you think I was lying about that?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Other students have already come to talk to me.”

  I rolled my eyes and groaned, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re not going to tell me what they said, are you?”

  He shook his head. “I wouldn’t, even if I could,” he said. “But people have a high opinion of you.”

  I rolled my eyes again. “It’s okay,” I said. “They think I’m a good actor but a total diva, don’t they?”

  He blinked, not answering my question. I knew he couldn’t say anything, but I wanted to shake him. “I’m not here to gossip, Callum,” he said. “I’m your teacher.”

  “Right,” I said, licking my lips. “But you were the one who said you were surprised by this.”

  “Yes,” he said, holding his arms out in a motion that looked a bit like defeat. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have.”

  I looked away from him. “I’m not a diva,” I said, wondering how much I should tell him. I wanted to get him on my side, but I didn’t want to say too much, just enough so I would turn him against me. Teachers, especially drama teachers, are people too. People with preferences. I knew I needed to be one of those preferences if I wanted to get into my college of choice, I told myself, so what I was doing was technically for my own benefit. It had nothing to do with making him like me as a person. “Things were just hard at home.”

  He stared. “Are things still hard at home?”

  I shook my head, then met his gaze again. He could have melted me with the way he was staring, his eyes wide. They were light blue, almost clear.

  I looked down at my lap. “No,” I said, hoping I sounded sincere enough. They were certainly not as hard, but that didn’t mean they weren’t hard at all.

  “If there’s anything you want to talk about,” he said. “You should know that’s what I’m here for.”

  I resisted the urge to look up at him. I wanted to see his expression, but I also didn’t. I already felt like his eyes could pierce into my soul and I didn’t like that. I didn’t want anyone to look at my soul, at least when I wasn’t on stage.

  When I was performing, everyone got to see every last part of me. Not when I was sitting in front of this man, who was just asking me how I was doing. Out of professional interest, not because he really wanted to know.

  “Yeah,” I said, licking my lips, which were dry. “I know.”

  “Good,” he said. “Thank you for offering to help me out. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem,” I replied. “So what do you need help with?”

  “I’m trying to come up with a program this year,” he said. “Maybe you can help out with that?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Sure. That sounds great.”

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  Author’s Note

  First of all, thank you so much for taking the time to read my book. I hope that you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you like my work, you should know there are ways you can support me without spending any money at all. I wouldn't be anywhere without your help. Authors rely on readers like you.

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  About the author

  Lina Langley is a first-generation immigrant. She currently lives in sunny Florida and spends her time slashing hot strangers while getting coffee.

  Her past is haunted by spies, thieves, tyrants, and murderers. A resident of the world, she’s lived on three different continents. She first saw a radiator when she was twenty-two years old, and one time she followed a cat instead of going to a house party.

  She likes to read, watch TV, and play video games when she’s not developing them. The rest of her free time is spent recreating her own characters in The Sims and hoping that people don’t look at the back end of her games.

  You can email her: lina@linalangley.com

  BOTTOM OF THE CLASS SAMPLE

  M/M GAY ROMANCE

  BY LINA LANGLEY

  It had been a long summer and I was excited to go back to school. It was my last year before graduation and everything was in motion. Excellent grades, check. Lots of extracurriculars, check. Backstabbing friends, check. Weird home life I really wanted to get away from, check.

  I knew that all I had to do was get through my last year of school, get rid of the bloodsucking ticks that called themselves my friends, and go try my luck in NYC. Even if I didn’t make it the first, second, even third year, I knew I would eventually make it. I would do whatever it took. I would sleep in subway stations during the winter and the park during the summer. My parents were never thrilled with the idea, but they always knew how far I would go to achieve my dreams.

  They had always supported me. As I drove into the school parking lot, I waved at people I hadn’t seen all summer. It felt like the first time in months that everything was going to go back to normal.

  The moment I stepped out of my car, Emily sprinted toward me. “Hey,” she said, her dark blonde hair curling around her perfectly made-up round face. “Did you get my text?”

  “No,” I said, taking my phone out of my pocket. “I haven’t turned it on yet.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re still on that shit?”

  “Starting the day with phone contact stresses me out,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “I’m trying to practice self-care over here.”

  She shook her head, looping a strand of hair behind her ear. “Fine,” she said. “Did you hear about Miss Danback?”

  “No,” I said, frowning at her.

  “She’s having a baby,” Emily said.

  I blinked. “That’s nice,” I said.

  “No, Cal,”
Emily replied, getting really close to my face. “She’s not here this year.”

  My eyes widened. She was one of the reasons I had been looking forward to going back to school. I swallowed as my thoughts drifted to the music teacher, Mr. Miller. He was the most logical substitute to head the drama program, but he was a cranky, annoying middle-aged man who didn’t give a shit about anything but band. “Who do you think we have?”

  “No idea. That’s assuming we have someone,” Emily said. “But we need to go sign up now, before first period.”

  I swallowed. The idea that we wouldn’t have a drama program at all hit me like a ton of bricks. This was what I had been working toward for so long and now it felt like it was going to be taken away from me. All that hard work for nothing. All because Miss Danback had decided to have a baby.

  She rolled her eyes again. “I’m sure you’re safe, Cal,” she replied. “Unfortunately, I’m in competition with more people than you.”

  “I’m right behind you,” I said, trying my best not to snap at her. We’d been friends since we were kids, but Emily’s high-strung nature could rub me the wrong way on the best of days. This was not one of those days and I could feel myself getting close to losing my temper.

  Losing everything felt like a real possibility. We walked into the main building until we had reached the auditorium, waving at people who looked like they wanted to stop us.

  Emily turned to look at me over her shoulder. “There’s a sign-up sheet.”

  I closed my eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” I said. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if they shut off the program.”

  “Same,” Emily said. “Looks like we’re the first people here.”

  I smiled at her. “Good,” I said. “I want to show our new teacher we’re serious.”

  She smiled at me as she took a pen from her ear. She wrote her name, her handwriting perfect, and handed the pen to me. I wrote my name under hers. We were the first two people there, but I knew the sheet would soon get appropriately full. It was one of the only extracurriculars students at our school actually enjoyed. At least the crowd I used to hang out with.

  “Serious about what?” Someone said from behind me. I didn’t recognize the voice. I turned around, ready to tell a freshman to fuck off, when my breath caught in my throat.

  The person in front of me was clearly not a student. He looked like a celebrity, with broad shoulders and big light eyes. His brown hair was styled so it was kept out of his face, his Greek nose above full lips, his cheekbones sharp and dramatic and his features framed by perfectly manicured dark eyebrows.

  I swallowed, opening my mouth to answer him. There were very few times in life I had felt speechless, but as I stared at this person, I found myself unable to form words. It wasn’t just how strikingly beautiful he was, it was the way he was looking at me, with a cross of amusement and curiosity.

  Like the only thing he could see in the world was my face. Nobody had ever looked at me like that before. Certainly not a stranger.

  Emily cleared her throat. “Hi,” she said. “Are you new?”

  “Yes,” he replied, his voice deep. “I am.”

  She met my gaze for a second, as if to question what the fuck was happening, and then she flashed him that easy smile that had made her so popular. “I’m Emily,” she said. “This is Callum.”

  “Nice to meet,” he said, in that thick sweet voice of his. His gaze darted between us, as if he was unsure of where he was supposed to be looking. “I’m Mr. Redford. Your new drama teacher.”

  ***

  I tried to focus on my classes, but I was finding it harder and harder. I was supposed to make senior year my bitch, but meeting Mr. Redford had thrown me for a loop. I knew that there was nothing wrong with having a hot new teacher—except perhaps the fact that there would be more people signing up to drama now than there had been before.

  But the way he had looked at me… it was nothing. I told myself it was nothing, except that when I closed my eyes, my mind would drift back to when he had been looking at me. I could recall exactly what he was wearing, that checkered button-up shirt with red and blue lines, the waistcoat over it, the black slacks. Fashion-wise, I knew it was a bit of a disaster, yet he still managed to pull it off. It felt like everything he wore would have looked amazing.

  I don’t know how many times I told myself to get a grip. I knew better than to crush on a teacher, and even if he had been just another student, I didn’t have time to date. That’s why I had broken up with Dean before the summer, because I was trying to focus on my future. He hadn’t taken it well, but I knew he would get over it quickly.

  I figured I could put my romantic life on hold at least until after graduation. I’d heard too many horror stories of people staying behind because they’d gotten their high school girlfriend pregnant or because their boyfriend had convinced them to stay.

  I never wanted to be one of those people. I knew I was going to be a star and I couldn’t let anyone hold me back. Not even a stupid crush. I told myself that I didn’t have to worry, after all, a crush was just a crush and it wasn’t as if it was going to turn into something else. I knew I would have no chance at all with my teacher.

  Maybe.

  My head was spinning by the time the clock hit three o’clock. I had gone through the motions all day. Now I wanted to go and really see about this teacher. Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe he hadn’t acted like he was interested in me at all, maybe he was just an intense person.

  I glanced at the sign-up sheet before I entered the auditorium. Just like I had thought, the sheet was completely full. There were many names I recognized, but there were several new ones, people who had never taken any interest in drama who seemed to have had a change of heart. I thought I even saw a couple of cheerleaders. I rolled my eyes, feeling weirdly territorial about all this, and knocked on the door despite the fact that it was wide open.

  I could see him from the corner of my eye, hunched over a table and scribbling something in a notebook. His brow was furrowed and his lips were twisted. I couldn’t really see his expression that well, but there was something about the way he was focusing. He looked busy but peaceful, a contradiction I’d never seen in anyone’s face before.

  I approached him slowly. I tried to be light on my feet, mostly because I didn’t want to disturb him. He lifted up his head and smiled at me. “Hey,” he said. “Callum, right?”

  “Yes,” I replied as I stopped in my tracks. “Hi, Mr. Redford.”

  “Hello,” he said, the smile painted on his face. “How can I help you?”

  I got closer to him. I knew I was going to have to be right next to him when we talked, but something felt dangerous about him. It was probably nothing—and whatever it was, it was probably only something in my mind, in any case. There was something about this situation that felt inherently dangerous, though, so as I approached him, I had to steel myself.

  I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me. He seemed nice—really nice, so good-looking, so expectant. The danger was coming from me, from what I wanted from him. Being that horny around a teacher couldn’t be a good thing, I told myself. I brushed my hands off on my jeans, because they were covered in sweat.

  I couldn’t understand why I was so nervous. I had been around plenty of teachers and I had been around plenty of people I found attractive. They had just never done anything like this to me, they hadn’t left me feeling like I wasn’t able to speak, like I wasn’t even able to move.

  He kept staring at me. He wasn’t saying anything. I managed to wonder if he was as nervous as I was, but there was no reason for him to be nervous at all. He was just doing his job, I told myself.

  “Hi,” I said.

  He cocked his head, furrowing his brow. A little line appeared on his forehead. I wondered how old he was. He didn’t even look like he was thirty, but I knew it would have been inappropriate to ask him how old he was. “Sit down, Callum,” he said. He pulled up a chair so it was nea
r him, not quite next to him, but close enough that I thought I could have reached out and touched him.

  Not that I was going to. I sat down next to him, feeling a little shaky.

  “How can I help you?” he repeated, his voice thick.

  I looked up at him. From where I was, I could see the little wrinkles on his face, the ridges of his lips. I blinked, telling myself to get a grip. That wasn’t what I was there for. I was there to ascertain my position as top of the drama club, to make sure that Mr. Redford wasn’t going to interfere with my future. “I just, uh, came here because I’m part of the drama club,” I said. “And I wanted to introduce myself, you know, properly.”

  He cocked his head, not saying anything. “You’re Callum George?”

  “Yes,” I said. “That’s me.”

  He smiled, straightening up slightly. “Everyone speaks very highly of you, Callum,” he said. “And actually, I managed to see last year’s production of The Breakfast Club.”

  “You did?” I replied, my heart beating hard in my chest. I had never cared that much about someone finding my acting good before, not even a casting director. It suddenly became very important that Mr. Redford’s opinion of me was high.

  “Yes,” he said. “Your interpretation of Andrew Clark was great. Much more vulnerable than the movie, which made it so much better.”

  I smiled at him as I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat. “Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate that.”

  “I wouldn’t have cast you as Clark, though,” he said.

  “Oh?”

  “Not to question Miss Danback’s judgment, but I think you would have been a great Bender,” he said, looking right at my face. “Grow your hair out, out silver studs in your ears. I bet you could look the part.”

  I swallowed again. I thought I could hear an inflection, something close to a lisp. I told myself to stop being ridiculous. Regardless of how much I was searching for signs of queerness, I could see the silver crucifix hanging from his neck and the Jesus fish tattoo he had tried to cover up with his sleeve. Even if he was into other men—and I doubted it—he would never be into me. I was his student. All he had done was be polite.