Gentry flinched as the door slammed shut.
If the class wasn’t talking about him before, they were now.
Well. That was stupid. You might as well draw a big red circle with an arrow saying ‘kick me’ on your Achilles heel. Was he nuts?
The corners of his mouth turned up into a barely-there smirk.
Well, yes. You’d have to be crazy to jump on Mr.Handson’s table.
“Does anybody know if he’s coming back?” Mr.Handson asked dully over the barrage of conversation, religiously spraying and scrubbing his beloved desk, only pausing to pick his attendance sheet up with one of his meaty hands. One student yelled out:
“Nahh, he’s friggin’ crazy!”
The class roared with laughter.
Gentry felt an odd, sinking feeling in his chest, and averted his eyes to the floor. They didn’t get it, chances are they never would.
“Well… If anyone knows where he is, let him know that I’ve marked him down as a cut.”
“He’s probably in the bathroom,” guffawed Sydney, “I saw him eat in there once. Want me to get ‘em?”
Mr.Handson opened his mouth to reply, just as Gentry promptly rose to his feet and said,
“I’ll get him.”