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Lacey French is a student at Storybrooke High, a troubled kid causing trouble, and Dr Roan Gold, her new Maths teacher with a dark past of his own, has rather unorthodox and slightly immoral methods to keep the smart troublemaker in check and get her back on track.

Check the tags. Lacey French doesn’t care what they say about her – even if it gets her in trouble. Set in a AU! Here we go. So yes, there is a power imbalance – if that bothers you, back away now.

To be safe, it gets a dub! Do not hit your kids!

Lacey knew why she did it. Or so she thought. She was aware that she liked the attention and approval of the opposite sex.

One way to guarantee it was to show some flesh, and then a little more, until they could see more than they should, more than a good girl would reveal.

She would wear her short skirts with no underwear and drop something in the park in front of a guy, then bend down slowly and deliberately until she was certain he had had a good look.

Then she would straighten up and throw him a coy smile over her shoulder. It worked like a charm. Men were just predictable that way.

Sometimes they would follow her and she would lead them to a secluded spot and show them more — if she felt like it.

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She liked the attention, but the thrill was what she truly craved and sought unapologetically. She had always denied feeling even the faintest desire to change for anyone or anything, ever.

She did not want to be anyone else. At least not until the first week of September rolled around and she was sitting in third period English and absentmindedly painting her nails a violent bubblegum pink.

He is sizing them up, Lacey realizes with a jolt. Judging them silently as he watches them shuffle in their bags, the bastard.

It would be perfect for undisturbed reading in the back, but The Bell Jar lies forgotten at the bottom of her bag under her desk.

So she just sits, unmoving, unblinking, determined to play him at his own game.

She studies his face. He must be, what, in his mid- to late forties, probably, lines around his mouth, but only very few laughter lines.

Lacey wonders which of the two it is, intrigued despite herself.

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Pretty people bore her and Lacey hates to be bored. Their faces tell no stories, leave no mysteries to be uncovered. Unconventional, however, means unique.

It means a person has character. He certainly looks like he does. Not at all. He sure knows how to rock a pocket square and tie even if he is a jerk, he is a well-dressed one.

She likes his prominent cheekbones.

At his word, Lacey goes through the motions of pulling up her panties and shorts with shaking hands, trying to catch her breath, her heart still thumping hard in her chest. Plus fuchsia tie front plunge satin teddy mill By this age the cooties are gone.

He does have a nice face, Lacey decides, worrying her bottom lip. He looks at her then, and her heart skips a beat. Even from a distance his gaze is intense, if not necessarily His eyes travel over her face and Lacey keeps exceptionally still, like she would when being x-rayed.

Just like in the x-ray room, she feels suddenly a little claustrophobic.

She looks away to catch her breath, looks down at her empty hands on her desk. Her pink nails are really very pretty.

Please emend your timetables accordingly now. Then silence. The classroom resembles a wax museum, all silent, frozen in position, waiting.

No explanation, no details.

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Her classmates are either too stunned by the turn of events or too intimidated by their new teacher to ask any questions. In front row, as if on cue, Mary-Margaret Blanchard lifts a trembling hand.

Of course. Lacey smirks. Mary calls it Math.

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Lacey is more flexible. She is one of those girls, who blush prettily, giggle prettily, and do absolutely everything else prettily too.

She is always polite, speaks only when spoken to, and completes all her assignments on time. Of course, she also has a perfect GPA, perfect pearly-white teeth, and a perfect boyfriend to boot.

She dots her i’s with hearts and circles and feels genuinely thankful for every sunny day. Mary-Margaret Blanchard is a very good girl. Glances are exchanged, and a couple of brave souls, or maybe they are desperate ones, start whispering.

Standing up, his hands do an upward motion, and the class rises from their seats with him. Lacey makes a point of taking a beat longer than everyone else to get to her feet.

He knows, that she knows, that he takes notice. Two syllables. She smiles.

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It will not save him, and neither will his tousled hair. Judging by the way Gold purses his lips, Mary can go press her black dress for the funeral.

Gold moves out from behind his desk, and only now does Lacey notice that he is using a cane.

Has he had it the whole time, she wonders, how could she have missed it? She holds his gaze this time, ready to stare him down, and reaches for the polish and her hairbrush.

Lacey scoffs and crosses her arms.

01.02.2020 – He cannot possibly turn a blind eye and let any more of it slide. Her face was back on, adamantly positive. Not since Footlights College beat Scumbag College in The Young Ones has it been socially acceptable to out yourself as one of the upper classes, nor to speak or dress like one of them either. Pingback: best place to buy cialis online without script.

Oh, please. If he truly believes she will jump up, like someone placed a pincushion on her seat, every time he enters the classroom. Graphing calculators are not permitted.

He looks around, as if daring anyone to comment on his list or to object to any of the specifications, but Lacey knows to pick her battles. She considers him with calculating appraisal, her eyes only narrowed by a fraction.

Lacey slips the nail polish into her jeans pocket, then proceeds to brush out her luxuriant mahogany curls with her brush, slowly and deliberately, while everyone around her is taking notes.

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Gold is back in his chair. He folds his hands, watching her closely over the top of them, his elbows resting on the desk. The corner of his mouth twitches.

So he has some sense of humor, the pettifogging pedant. He raises an eyebrow, and she pauses only a second, before putting her brush down and pulling her hair into a high messy ponytail.

His eyes lock on hers and her stomach flip-flops, catching her by surprise. Her hair almost slips from her grasp before she can tie it.

She feels her heart thump, tension rising within her.

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A knock on the door marks the arrival of their new course books, and Leroy, the janitor, wheels them in on his book carriage.

Leroy has done more than enough for you lot this week, pushing this cart around the school and seeing to it that everyone gets their much anticipated books as soon as possible.

Pingback: facebook1. Plus fuchsia tie front plunge satin teddy mill They do it together, Tally copying her movements on her own leg, making the lines longer, making the house larger, and Lacey feels her chest expand, too, grow back to its normal size, her breathing slowing down and vision clearing. Pingback: best personal massager.

Lacey hands the dull grey-colored copies out to everyone sitting on the right, and Ruby takes over the people on the left.

They maintain a sufficient safety distance, return to their seats in silence, and Lacey finally releases the breath she has been holding, crossing her legs under the table.

Gold swings his eyes to her, his look quizzical. She wants to snap at him to pick another soul in the room to dissect and drill his damn eyes into for a change, and to mind his own freaking business.

She squirms in her seat, her left leg bobbing up and down, and averts her eyes, because they are watering at the worst possible moment Lint.

Stupid brand-new books. She fights the urge to rub at them with her hand, determined not to give anyone any wrong ideas about anything.

Please open your books to the list of contents. You will be taught to solve them, gaining and applying your knowledge and skills task-appropriately.

I know this is going to inconvenience a whole lot of you, but you will need to think for yourselves.