"Mr. Peters!"

James sat up straight as the grouchy voice of Mr. Reed, his high school English teacher, brought him back to the present. He managed to look the teacher in the eyes, but not before he clipped his pencil with the side of his hand.

The little piece of wood catapulted off his desk at the speed of light.

There was a grunt somewhere to his left, as the pencil struck another student.

"This being the last day of school, I normally would not get upset at unfocused students!" Mr. Reed was frothing. James swore he looked a little bit like the rabid dog he did a report on earlier in the year.

He smiled.

"But, Mr. Peters, you daydream every single day! I can't take it anymore!" The teacher started pacing back and forth in front of the class.

"Oh, come on, Mr. Reed. I could have been thinking about whatever it was you were lecturing about," James said, shrugging his shoulders.

Several students laughed.

"Besides, it's the last day of school. After today, you won't ever have to look at me again."

Mr. Reed stopped pacing and glared back at him. Then the older man raised a single eyebrow. "For once, Mr. Peters, I agree with you. Now, pay attention. Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was about to give the class one last homework assignment."

A collective sigh echoed through the room.

The thought of having another homework assignment, just when he was getting used to the idea of being done for the school year, made James feel miserable. He buried his face in his hands.

"Since, to my complete and utter astonishment," Mr. Reed looked James' way before he continued, "you have all managed to pass this class, I feel the need, as backward as it may seem, to help you all hit the ground running when school starts in the fall."

The class responded with a louder sigh.

"Summer living can get quite boring, what with summer camps, summer jobs, PlayStation 4, Facebook, and Netflix. Students have been known to come back from summer break looking, thinking, and acting like zombies, I mean teenagers." The teacher puffed his chest.

"Therefore, it is my job," the old man paused again, "no, it is my obligation to do everything in my power ..."

James' brain checked out again before Mr. Reed finished his sentence. It always happened when teachers lectured.

Well, that's not entirely accurate. James' brain checked out whenever teachers opened their mouths. It was more a reflex than anything else. It just sort of happened.

At least it had for the past five years since his father disappeared.

His dad hadn't been around much when James was little. He was always traveling the world with his business partner. But the stories his father came home with were amazing.

Stories about deep underground caves, gigantic sea monsters, and storms strong enough to flatten cities the size of Los Angeles.

Then, one day, his dad didn't come home.

James was told his dad and partner were down in the Chilean Andes. An avalanche caught the two of them by surprise. His father was buried and his dad's partner was knocked off a cliff.

His partner managed to survive, though he'd received a nasty cut on his face and a bunch of broken bones. But, his dad's body was never found. Search parties looked for weeks, but in the end, his dad was pronounced dead.

James didn't believe his dad was dead, but all the adults in his life  lecturing him about how it was impossible for his dad to be alive. They all seemed to think James needed to move on.

But what did they know?

"Mr. Peters," came a sharp whisper.

James snapped his head forward and found himself face to face with Mr. Reed. The teacher had old man's breath, which meant there was an overwhelming smell of gingivitis and the slight hint of denture cream.

In a weak attempt to avoid the teacher's breath, James pushed himself back into his chair, which regrettably was attached to his desk. The chair abruptly stopped his momentum.

Having nowhere else to go, he craned his neck sideways and looked upward.

James was granted momentary relief from the smell, and through his squinting eyes, he found himself staring at Mr. Reed's bald head.

The older man's brown liver spots sat in stark contrast to the rest of his shiny head. James sat transfixed for a moment until he saw the old teacher's eyebrow hairs.

Instead of two eyebrows, Mr. Reed had a single strip of hair that stretched from one side of his face to the other. The hairs all seemed to have their own opinion on the proper direction eyebrow hairs were supposed to point. Each one was shooting out in a different direction, like ivy snaking along an old castle wall.

James would have taken another couple of seconds to gaze at Mr. Reed's eyebrows. Unfortunately, he was hit by another blast of geriatric breath.

This time his survival instincts kicked in, and James pushed away with all the force he could muster.

The seat on James' chair emitted a loud crack as if screaming out in agony.

The class jumped in surprise as the sound echoed through the room. James' momentum carried him over the now-broken seat and into the desk behind him.

As he collided with the desk, his momentum was immediately stopped and he landed on the floor with a thud.

"As I was saying," Mr. Reed said as a wicked smile slowly, almost painfully, formed on his face. "Your summer assignment will be to read this book."

James noted a book in Mr. Reed's other hand.

He found himself wondering how long the book had been nestled in his teacher's arm.

"Mr. Peters, please get off the floor." Mr. Reed sighed as he slowly sauntered back to the front of the classroom. "You will all read this book before the school year commences next fall, and I will know if you don't."

If silence could have made a sound, it would have been shouting.

The thought of having to read a book over the summer made James physically ill, like he'd eaten some rotten seafood.

The silence continued, with Mr. Reed staring at the class. Slowly the teacher backed over to his desk and grabbed a cardboard box. Then he made his way over to the doorway of the classroom.

Every eye in the room was glued on the man.

With force that James thought unnecessary, Mr. Reed slammed the box down on the empty desk nearest the door. As the box made contact with the desk, the school bell rang.

In unison, every student in the room jumped.

The old man's timing was uncanny.

"Please take a book from that box on the way out the door," Mr. Reed said gruffly. "Enjoy your summer," he said with his sadistic grin.

The students stood up and bolted for the exit, each taking a book on the way out.

When it was his turn, James grabbed a book and quickly shoved it into his bag. Then he took off out the door before Mr. Reed could say anything else to him.

When James reached the end of the hall, a shiver ran down his spine.

Turning around, James saw Mr. Reed standing just outside the classroom door, staring right at him.

That guy gives me the creeps, James thought as he quickly turned around.

James turned so quickly he missed seeing a girl who was walking across the hall directly behind him. Ramming into her, he caused the five or six books in her arms to fly in all directions.

James winced as each one made contact with the tile floor.

The force of the impact knocked the girl across the hallway, slamming her into the lockers lining the wall. A loud crash sounded across the now empty hallway.

James winced again as she landed on the floor in the middle of her books.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" she said to James, her face flushed red.

James just stood there, staring at her.

The girl must have been a junior, maybe a senior, and her long black hair was a disheveled mess. It was accentuated by a cowlick in the middle of her bangs.

Had he not been so focused on the fact that she probably wanted to beat him to a pulp, James would have thought that she was really cute.

"Uh, sorry about that," James said, as he offered his hand to the girl.

"I can get up myself," she said, shoving his hand of the way. "I'm going to have a bruise now, you jerk. Good grief! You should try paying attention to where you're going?"

She had a scowl on her face that could have melted an iceberg.

"I'm still sorry. Let me help you with your books," James said, feeling guiltier by the second.

With how she shoved his arm out of the way moments before, he half expected her to tell him to get lost.

She didn't. Instead, she just glared at him.

Taking her lack of a verbal response as "maybe," James timidly started picking up her books.

The girl slowly got up to her feet and joined him.

While he was picking up the books, James snuck another glance in the girl's direction. He was absolutely positive he'd never seen her before.

When he finished getting the last book, which had flown an impressive 20 feet away, he casually handed it back to her. Grabbing it from him, she quickly tucked her hair behind her ear.

Feeling himself turning red, James decided he needed to break the ice. "Nice way to finish off the school year, huh?"

"Yeah, I just love getting knocked across the hallway. It's got to be on my top five list of things I want to do," she responded, though the edge in her voice was gone.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, you nailed me in the ribs with your elbow," James said as he rubbed his side. "Do you sharpen those things?"

She smiled playfully. "Occasionally, but, I should have been wearing a pillow on my butt. I'll need to remember that just in case I run into you somewhere else."

They started walking together down the hallway. "You know, you should really work on your girl approach. I'm pretty sure that's not what girls mean when they say they want to be swept off their feet."

James laughed. He couldn't believe she was still talking to him. "Yeah, you're probably right," he replied. "I'll probably need to start getting advice from somewhere else. The book I'm reading is not doing it for me." He shook his head in mock disgust.

"Oh, and what book would that be?" the girl asked, slowing down her gait to look at him.

"Mixed Martial Arts for Dummies," he said, smoothly. This time she laughed. It was infectious, and James found himself laughing too. "So, I haven't seen you around school before. I know it's the last day, but are you new?"

She stopped walking altogether before responding. "This is probably going to sound weird, but my parents decided to move here before the school year ended," she said, and James detected a hint of exasperation in her voice.

"That sucks!" he replied. "They made you come to school on the last day?" James was aghast. "That's like cruel and unusual punishment!"

"Yup. But I'm regretting coming even more now," she said, rubbing her backside.

James felt lame.

She must have noticed the crestfallen look on his face, because she quickly added, "Well, the least you could do is walk me to my car."

With that statement and a subsequent flick of her hair, the girl did what girls do to boys: she made James instantly forget he was feeling lame.

"No argument there," James said, a hint of giddiness in his voice. "Here, let me carry your books."

She gave him a slight nod, and the two of them walked to her car.

Whey they reached the vehicle, James snorted with laughter.

Her car was a beat-up old Honda Prelude that had seen much better days. James could see hints of the car's original light blue paint underneath various scratches pock-marking its exterior.

The vehicle looked like it had gone through a midlife crisis, if cars did that. It was spray-painted violent pink, which looked like a weak attempt to distract from the car's actual appearance.

There were dents everywhere. In fact, James had a difficult time finding a spot on the car that didn't have a dent.

He thought he might have seen an undented spot on the gas panel, but nowhere else.

The car was also missing at least one rim, there were rust spots showing themselves despite the spray-paint, and both the front and rear windows displayed large spider webs from what looked like multiple impacts with various hard objects.

One of the spider webs was punctured at its center with a small, ominous looking hole.

"Nice wheels," James said as they approached. He made sure to lace every word with sarcasm.

"Uh, are you making fun of my car? Because if you are, I'd like to remind you that out of the two of us, I'm the only one that actually has a car."

She stopped walking, and then, seeing the look on James's face, added, "And if you're wondering how I know you don't have a car, don't. You just left 10th grade English with Mr. Reed, which means you're probably too young to even have a driver's license, let alone your own set of wheels."

Slightly shocked at the girl's deductive skills, James quickly overcame his momentary lapse and added, "You must have gotten a pretty good deal on this piece of art. I'd wager whoever you got it from paid you to take it."

"Haha," she responded.

"It does look way better than my non-existent car," James began, "but what did you expect me to say? It looks like your car drove through a couple of buildings, ran over a bunch of curbs, rolled down several small mountains, and then decided to sit in a lake for like 5 years."

She laughed again. "Not quite," she said as she opened her trunk and tossed her bag and books inside. "And for your information, I did get a good deal. It was a trade. If you ask me, I got the better deal, and I really like the color pink."

James wanted to tell her that she could have used spray paint to turn any car pink and that there were a bunch of other cars that probably had a thousand fewer dents. He shrugged instead.

The girl stuck out her hand, and James shook it. "Well, it was nice to meet you, uh, what's your name?"

"James," he said, shaking her hand.

"It was nice to meet you, James. Try not to run me over the next time we see each other, okay?"

"I'll try, but no guarantees," he answered, backing away from the car.

She hopped into the car, which creaked as she sat down, and turned it on. Surprisingly, it turned on right away.

The engine sounded like something quite a bit bigger than the 4-cylinder that should have been under the hood. James smiled to himself as he got a little clue about why she may have wanted the car.

He would have taken a car on a trade if it had an engine that hummed like that, even if it was pink.

"See ya later," she said and she closed the door.

He waved as she started to drive away. Then, realizing he'd forgotten something, James ran out of the parking lot and into the street, just in front of her car.

The tires screeched as they locked up and the car came to a halt a few inches away from James' knees.

She rolled down her window and looked at him quizzically as he walked over to her window. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, um, what's your name?" he asked.

"Annie."

She definitely looked like an Annie, he decided. James took a step away from the car and smiled. "That's all. See you around, Annie."

Annie revved the engine once and drove off.

James smiled as he watched her car speed out of view.

Once it was gone, he quickly ran to his bike and pedaled to his after-school job at the local museum.