Page 70 of Wylder and the Secret Rockstar
She heard a few snickers behind her, but that wasn’t anything new. Most of the time Wylder’s answers weren’t exactly the most eloquent.
“No, she’s right.” Mr. Cook moved to sit on the edge of his desk. “Dickens was the first to move the spotlight onto a child, shining a light on the injustices of the workhouses developed for impoverished youngsters. After all, he had experienced growing up in those workhouses. Never before had a child’s life been portrayed in such a manner. Why is that, Miss Anderson?”
“Well … Dickens treated Oliver’s character as he would an adult. He brought the reader into Oliver’s world. He made them feel what it was like to grow up on the streets and in the workhouses. It was enlightening.”
“Exactly.” Mr. Cook smiled and leaned back to check the time. “Your Dickens’ essays are due on Wednesday, and we will begin our discussions onA Clockwork Orangeon Thursday, so make sure you’ve read through the assigned chapters before then.”
Wylder gathered up her things, anticipating the bell and her mad dash out of Sebastian’s classroom.
“Diego, could you pass these back, please?” Mr. Cook laid a batch of their latestRomeo and Julietessays on his desk. Diego placed hers on her desk with the grade side down. Not a good sign.
A C minus. Not her best work, but at least it wasn’t another D.
See me after class.
“Not hardly, Mr. Cook,” she muttered under her breath as the bell rang, and she dashed out of her seat.
“Not so fast, Wylder.” Mr. Cook moved in front of her, pointing back to her seat. “I’ll just need a minute of your time.“ He took Diego’s vacated seat and waited for the rest of the class to file out.
Diego shuffled nervously, waiting for Wylder like he’d promised.
“It’s okay, Diego, I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”
“I’ll wait for you outside.” Diego pushed his glasses up onto his nose and turned to go, leaving to door cracked behind him.
Wylder stood and put some distance between them.
“Wylds.” Sebastian sighed. “You’re better than this. Cs and Ds?”
“What do you want from me?” Wylder sighed. “I was distracted all summer and didn’t get to the reading list. I’ll do better with the new stuff.” She snatched up her essay and started for the door.
“It’s not the reading that’s the problem, Wylder.” Sebastian followed her. “It’s the way you write about what you read. You have great thoughts and you do a decent job with class discussion, but you struggle with academic writing. I can help you with that.”
“I have friends who can help me.”
“Come to my house tonight. We can hang out, and I’ll give you a few pointers on writing essays. It’ll be fun. You can’t even imagine how bored I am with no one but stuffy old teachers to keep me company.”
“Thanks, but no.” Wylder tried to step around him.
“Come on, Wylds.” Sebastian moved closer—too close for a teacher and student to be standing together in an empty classroom. He glanced at the door, and she could see it in his eyes. He liked the danger.
“You know, Bash.” She turned for the door, successfully side-stepping him. “I have to stop making bad decisions. I need you to respect that.”
“Wylds, we can still be friends, you know. I miss that.”
“Me too.” She sighed. “I’d love to be friends with you, Bash, but you’re my teacher. This has to stop. We’re over. We’ve been over since Nashville.”
* * *
Wylder juggled her school bag and the white paper bag of necessities she’d pilfered from the kitchens. She had a long night of reading ahead of her—a date with Anthony Burgess andA Clockwork Orange—complete with the Cliffsnotes version and a dictionary. If the book was anything like the first three pages she’d read so far, it was going to be a very long night, and she would need snacks and a lot of chocolate to sustain her. She’d originally thought a book about another teen would be a quick and easy read.
Oh no. No such luck for Wylder. This kid—Alex—lived in a futuristic world and had some sort of made up language she couldn’t make heads or tails of. She’d read those first three pages a dozen times, and it still didn’t make any sense. Hence the Cliffsnotes.
“Out past curfew again, Wylds?” A familiar voice rang out in the darkness behind her, and she dropped her bags, trying not to jump out of her skin.
“Jeez-Louise, you have to announce yourself when you’re following a girl back to her dorm at midnight. You almost got the pepper spray.”
“Sorry.” Logan smiled in the moonlight. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I was just sitting out here and saw you creeping past.”
