She glanced at the girl in the front row, who watched her with an eerily familiar deadpan expression, and winked. The girl’s eyes narrowed, then Cheyenne swept her arm back and up in a huge arc before her fist cracked on the desk.
All conversation cut off instantly. Some of the kids jumped in their seats, and all eyes turned toward the front of the classroom.
Cheyenne smirked. “That’s better.”
“Who are you?”
“What, no, ‘Good morning,’ first?” The halfling raised an eyebrow at the short kid two rows back who apparently thought he could bring back button-up plaid shirts and braided hemp necklaces.
“Uh, good morning?”
“Where’s Professor Bergmann?” asked a blonde girl with braided pigtails falling over her shoulders.
There’s Bryl’s human illusion in twelve years. Cheyenne forced herself not to laugh. “Bergmann’s moved on to bigger and better things, so you guys are stuck with me.” She spread her arms and scanned the dumbfounded faces staring back at her. “Welcome to my class.”
“What do you mean, ‘bigger and better things?’” That came from the huge kid sitting halfway back who could’ve doubled as a football player.
The halfling cocked her head. “Kinda self-explanatory, isn’t it?”
“But she’s still teaching, right?”
“Did something happen to her?”
“So, you’re a sub, then.”
Leaning away from her desk and the barrage of questions and ridiculous observations, Cheyenne clapped her hands. The smack cracked through the room, and the voices stopped. She shifted her weight onto one hip, folding her arms. “Okay. Yes. No. Absolutely not.” She shot a pointed glance at the students who’d shouted out their questions and figured one-word answers were enough.
Still frowning, the kid trying to rock a nineties look raised his hand. Cheyenne raised an eyebrow at him in reply. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Who are you?”
The halfling rolled her shoulders back. “Just call me Cheyenne. That’s good enough. And just so we’re all on the same page, this is Advanced Programming 4200, not Twenty Questions 101. I get it. It’s the fourth week of the semester, and just when you thought you had a handle on things, your whole world’s crumbling apart because Professor Bergmann shucked this class onto someone else. Yeah?”
Thankfully, no one said anything to that one.
“Awesome. So here’s the deal. I’m now teaching this class, and there’s a really low probability that it’s gonna be anything like what you’ve been doing in here for the last three weeks.” Cheyenne tried to hold back a snort and failed. “I’m not gonna take attendance, because I don’t give a shit if you’re here. That’s your job. If you show up, you wanna be here, so we have that in common.” I just called myself out on that one, didn’t I? She shook her head and shrugged. “And if you’re not in class, you better be able to prove you have a handle on what we’re going over and can do the work.”
She blinked and glanced from face to face. Either way I spin that, I sound like a hypocrite. They don’t know that.
“Any other questions? ‘Cause this is the only day I’m answering stuff that has nothing to do with Advanced Programming.”
“How old are you?” Two guys sitting in the back row smirked. When Cheyenne’s gaze darted toward them, the kid on the left leaned over the long desk stretching across the seats and rubbed his forehead to hide his face. The other one stared right back at the halfling and raised his eyebrows once.
“That’s cute. You’d pass with flying colors if I was your How to Be an Asshole instructor. Obviously, I’m qualified to teach that one too, but I hope for your sake you can handle this class even half as well. We’ll see.”
Some of the students laughed and looked at each other with wide eyes. The kid rubbing his forehead glanced at his friend and couldn’t help a laugh, either. “Oh, shit, dude.”
The kid who thought he was funny smirked again, but it looked pissed-off this time. “You’re totally a sub.”
Cheyenne pressed her fingertips on the desk and leaned forward. Wow. Channeling Bergmann. “You sound really sure of that.”
“It’s obvious.” The kid gestured toward her with a flippant wave. “I mean, the school’s not gonna bring on Evanescence full time.”
The guy’s friend stared at him and shook his head.
“Oh. And I even got dressed up for the day.” The black lipstick always seals the deal, doesn’t it? The halfling pursed her lips, the corners of her mouth drawing down as she dipped her head. “Guess I missed the memo about discriminatory hiring based on personal fashion choices. But it doesn’t apply to students, right? ‘Cause, I mean, you’re here.”
The laughter this time was a little less amused and a lot more nervous. Cheyenne stared at the kid glowering at her and trying not to show it, waiting for him to throw another dud her way. He didn’t. Time to tone it down a notch, Cheyenne. You made your point.
With a deep breath, she closed her eyes briefly and tapped the desk with her fingertips. “Look, you’re all here to learn. I don’t care what you look like or how you spend your time outside this class. None of my business. And since we’re all legal adults, I’m assuming you guys can handle the fact this goes both ways. If you don’t like the way I dress or how I teach, you can suck it up and push through one semester, or you can get out and do something else. Your call, and trust me, I won’t lose any sleep over it. But while you’re here, I think I’ve made it perfectly clear that I will call you out for screwing around, even if I have to be an asshole about it. Which, by the way, isn’t my priority. Showing you guys how to write anything and everything your brains come up with is the only thing I’m here to do. We good?”
The students nodded, glanced at each other, and shifted around in their chairs. The kid who thought he was hot stuff folded
