Mr. Cross's voice bellowed with such force that it seemed to reverberate throughout the entire room, as he declared. “I have authority over this classroom. I am the one in charge. I am the merciless ruler of anything that moves in my world. If you dare to fuck with me or disrespect my students, be prepared to face the repercussions. Consider yourself warned. Nick!”

The way he spoke sent deep shivers up and down my spine. His voice was filled with authority. It made me feel like I was in trouble even though I had done nothing wrong. With a hint of curiosity, I discreetly scanned the room.

“You cannot talk to me like that!” Nick argued. “Are you aware of who I am and what I can do to you?"

My heart raced as I waited for Mr. Cross to continue, unsure of his next words.

The teacher chuckled and then uttered, "You stupid boy! What could you possibly do to me?"

I let out a huge ass sigh and just shut my God damn eyes. Never. And I mean never had a teacher even thought about arguing with Nick. They would not dare. Teachers in this school valued their jobs and peace of mind.

Nick menacingly warned Mr. Cross. "My father is the sheriff in these parts. If I wanted, I could ensure you are out of a job by the end of the day!"

"Boy. You have disrupted the learning flow of my classroom,” Mr. Cross said. “Remove yourself so that I may educate those who are sincerely invested in learning."

These words prompted me to reopen my eyes.

"Mark my words…" Nick warned with a fierce tone. I noticed his hand involuntarily twitching. “This is far from over. You heard me?”

"Is anyone else interested in joining?" inquired Mr. Cross.

As I looked around the room, I was straight up trying to avoid making any eye contact with anyone. But damn. It was like my eyes had a mind of their own, and they just had to land on Jennifer Dickson. You know, Nick's girlfriend.

"Gross!" Jennifer hissed. “Why are you even staring at me? You should know better than to rely on a new teacher to defend you. You damn druggy!”

As soon as Jennifer and her friends left the room, I let out a big sigh of relief. Thank God! That group was too much to handle.

"Class. Let us refocus on Romeo and Juliet,” my teacher instructed.

As if she could not wait. A girl eagerly added, "Shakespeare's timeless play remains one of his most beloved works."

"It is," said Mr. Cross. "Were you aware that by the mid-seventeenth, Shakespeare's plays had gained widespread popularity in England, with various adaptations being created? It was not until the 1800s that Shakespeare's original version was revived, and the first official production took place in America during the mid-1840s. Would anyone like to share further details about this remarkable tale?"

"Why is it even deemed a love story?" A boy inquired curiously.

“They were considered lovers, after all,” someone else responded.

“The story of Romeo and Juliet cannot be considered a true one. Their love seemingly develops too rapidly. Romeo happens to come across Juliet, and, in a sudden burst of emotions, they fall for each other. Yo, teacher! That doesn’t happen in real life.”

Listening to my classmates passionately discuss the plot and characters was lit. My excitement level was off the charts! Each person had their take and perspective, and I hung onto every word like it was the juiciest gossip. I was so anxious to add my thoughts and ideas to the conversation.

“It has nothing to do with some teenage rebellion because her parents promised her to Count Paris,” I suddenly cut into the debate. “She was simply head over heels in love with the boy she had only known for twenty-four hours.”

To prevent any potential conflicts or awkward interactions, I made a deliberate choice to avoid eye contact with those around me and instead direct my gaze downwards. As I found myself in a tense atmosphere, I shifted my focus to the interlocking of my fingers, absentmindedly fiddling with them for a sense of distraction.

"Is that truly all, Miss Evans?” My teacher asked. “Are you implying that the entire tale revolves around mere physical desire?"

Oh, man. When he dropped those words on me, my face was legit burning. But in a good way, you know? My substitute teacher's words were like the biggest, sexiest hug. They made me tingly sweetly.

“Two teenagers met. Get married.  Fucked. They commit suicide together in the span of a week. Yeah, that is the most romantic story in the history of all time,” a boy said with a sarcastic tone, and the entire class laughed.

I chuckled along with them, then added, “I don't think it was solely because of their undying love for one another. No. It was their unwavering faith that they would always be united until the very end. That is my perspective on it.”

Another boy blurted out with an air of annoyance, "They were dumb. Period!"

“Of course, their decision-making skills were lacking,” I said. “But they were young and deeply in love. At that age… just like Romeo and Juliet, many of us get caught up in the dramatics and make rash decisions.”

The class went dead silent. Not even the sound of a pencil scratching on paper could be heard. All that filled the room was the sound of our collective breathing.

I set my sad eyes on the plain white wall. I could not help but feel like I was trapped in this classroom and spending the majority of my time gazing at the unchanging wall. In all of my other classes, I would make sure to sit by a window, but unfortunately, that option was not available in this room. I knew that if I had chosen to sit up front, I would slowly go stir-crazy.