vtmb samantha

Mrs. B. was a great teacher for 10th grade English. Funny, engaging, personable—and a bit flirty. She was in her late-20s, just a couple years out of The University of Michigan, cute, nice body and flaming red hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She knew the boys all lusted after her and she did nothing to discourage our interest. Students even gave her a nickname, “Bubbles.” The administration was not pleased, but Mrs. B. didn’t seem to mind. She liked the attention. Oh, and I think that we actually learned a lot of English Lit between the horsing around.

The next morning, Valia stood in the garden behind her home, overgrown after a year of neglect, but still beautiful. She held her sword out in front of her, breathing deeply. Step by step, she underwent the Dance of the Ivunara, an elvish custom performed before battle, as well as for exercise. It was a war dance to ease the body’s mana flow and loosen the muscles. Each day was easier, and she felt like she almost back to her old self.

Mrs. B. was very different, though. Our class only met once a week, but there were times when she and I would cross paths in the course of a day. I noticed that either she must have changed her path to avoid me or averted her gaze when we did cross paths. She did not appear to be her usual ebullient self. She was noticeably absent from her office during times I would usually drop in to say hello. I guessed the experience was not the life changing event for her as it was for me.