I woke up at 5:00 am. I had calculated my timing for everything the night before. If I woke up at five, I would take an hour to get ready. I would leave the house at six and the drive to school is five minutes. I would spend at most ten minutes in the classroom sorting out my grade with Mr. Hudson. Then I would leave a little after 6:15. I could head to the theater for my dance recital and be there a couple of hours early since I had to help the little ones with their hair, makeup, and costumes. Then I also had to get myself ready and have a bit of time to practice if I needed to. I didn't need it, but it was still nice to practice a bit.

So far I was on schedule. It was 5:45 and I went downstairs and grabbed my water bottle and dance bag. I slipped on my shoes.

I started heading for the door when my mom called me from the kitchen, "Hi Honey!"

"Hey, Mom. I'm gonna head out," I responded. I had my hand on the door handle before I realized that I left my keys on the kitchen counter.

I went into the kitchen and got my keys and gave my mom a hug and a kiss on her cheek. "Do you not want pancakes?"

"Mom, you know I can't have food before a recital. It'll make me bloated."

"But with your performance so far from now, don't you think it'll wear off?"

"It won't. I know from experience. Bye, Ma."

I walked out of the door, threw my stuff inside my car, and got inside. I checked the time, and it was now 5:50. I was ahead of schedule. Look at me! I got to my school at about 6:00. I quickly got my phone and the new research paper I was turning in. I started walking towards the door. Why would he even call the assignment a research paper but just wanted my opinion? He should've just asked for a persuasive essay instead. And why did he need it on a Saturday morning? He couldn't have waited until Monday when It was more convenient?

As I was walking through the halls, I noticed it was, surprisingly, pretty empty. I didn't see any teachers in their rooms. I finally got to Mr. Hudson's room. He always had paper covering his door window. He claimed it was to prevent us from getting distracted by people walking by, but honestly, I didn't care. He wasn't the only teacher to do that. Plus, there were already tints on the windows in case of a school shooter. What a world we live in.

I knocked on the door and I heard a faint, "Come in."

I opened the door. "Hi, Mr. Hudson," I deadpanned. "I've got your paper," I said, waving it in the air.

"Great," he said, not looking up from his laptop. "Drop it on my desk. Hopefully, you did what I asked for this time."

"I hope so too." I walked over to his desk and dropped it there. He looked up at me. I gave him a small smile and started walking over to the door. "Have a good day I guess," I mumbled.

"Lydia, can I ask you a question?"

I turned around to face him. "Sure." I pushed my phone into my back pocket.

"Why are you so obsessed with your grades being perfect?"

"I don't need them to be perfect, because perfect is 100% all of the time. I just need straight A's regardless of the number, unless it's a 99% because then it might as well be bumped up to 100%."

Mr. Hudson chuckled. "You know a B every once in a while isn't so bad."

"Well, everybody gets B's. So, if I get all A's, I won't be like everybody."

He laughed again. "So, you would be mad if I gave you a B for no reason?"

"Obviously," I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Well as your teacher, I find it my job to teach you about life and how it's not always 'perfect'," he stood up. "You're not going to get an A from me for the rest of the semester. Which is," he looked at his calendar," three weeks."

"What? You can't do that! Plus, that huge project is due in two weeks and it's 40% of my grade."

"Well, that's an unfortunate circumstance now, isn't it?" he leaned against his desk.

"You can't give me unjustified grades," I was genuinely getting irritated now. "If I work hard and do the work correctly then I should get the grade that I deserve."

"It's not unjustified, it's teaching you a lesson on life. Not everything can go the way you want it to. Life's not fair." He crossed his arms over his chest as well.

"Are you kidding me? You can't do that! I'll tell the principal."

"I can and I will. I'll make up an excuse for the grade."

"I'll tell the principal that you said that."

"And who will the principal believe? A student, or a teacher?"

"A straight-A student who's never gotten in trouble before."

"A teacher who got his master's degree at the age of 19 and was teaching at Harvard." I rolled my eyes. He got me beat. "Still rolling your eyes I see." I looked down at the floor.

"How about I make a deal with you," he pushed himself off the desk and started walking towards me. "You have a lot of classes and I'm sure they have a lot of homework, I obviously assign a lot of papers that take up a lot of time. What if I told you that you wouldn't have to do any more homework for the rest of the year in my class and still get straight A's?"

"What?"

"I already know that you know everything that's going to be taught for the rest of the year. You're very smart and ahead of everyone. You don't need me to teach you anything."

"It sounds nice, but what's the catch?"

"How old are you?"

"18," I responded. I genuinely didn't know where this was going to lead.

"If you do me a couple of favors, I can do you a couple of favors." He walked past me towards the door. I didn't turn around to see what he was doing until I felt his hands on my waist.

"what are you doing?"

"Just relax."

"No," I said, turning around and pushing him off of me. "What the hell are you doing?"

"This is my deal: You can have straight A's for the rest of the year if you let me," he got closer to me and pressed up against me, "fuck you," he whispered in my ear.