My Secret Stalactites

“You’re sitting at my desk,” I began. I was always impatient on Mondays.

Teresa looked up with sparkly cheerleader eyes, as if she hadn’t heard. “I’m sorry?”

“My desk. You’re sitting at it.”

“I’m pretty sure this is my desk.”

“No. You sit in the fourth seat in the fifth row. This is the fifth seat in the fourth row.”

She cocked her head at me. “Whatever. It’s not like we have assigned seats anyway.”

“I know, but…” I fumbled for words. “It’s just… I really like this desk.”

She gave me one of those aloof cheerleader smirks like she was talking to one of the kids from special ed. She didn’t speak. I frowned. She folded her arms and smirked again. It was becoming clear she wasn’t going anywhere.

Other students were staring now. Teresa made her best get a load of this guy face. Somebody tried not to chuckle and failed.

“Please get up,” I mumbled.

“No,” she said, and it was then that her hand brushed the bottom of the desk.

Ewwwww,” she shrieked. Loudly. “There’s like a million boogers down here!”

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