Chapter 1
Miss Vickie Roach sat at her desk and looked out at her students who were trying to solve the daily trigonometry problem. Her eyes moved across her senior section and the smallest of smiles appeared on her face as she observed her favorite class. Vickie was well liked by both faculty and students despite the fact that she dressed as a much older school marm. Although very confident in her teaching ability and her ability to communicate with her students, Vickie was just the opposite when it came to her own self esteem and sense of style.
This was her fifth year as a high school math teacher in a small suburban town and many of the other teachers secretly thought that her attire and style would be the same when she had forty years of teaching behind her. Although she had a pretty face and an athletic body, she hid it behind loose sweaters, baggy pants, and plain, concealing dresses. Vickie liked to keep in shape but was much too self conscientious to ever appear in a health club so she purchased equipment that she constantly used to keep in shape. Vickie's house, left to her when both her parents died in the same year due to cancer, had a room of gym equipment that she used often.
Vickie had always been shy around her peers, uncomfortable around men and never had a really serious relationship. It was that she just felt inadequate and lacking confidence that she never emerged on the dating scene and was content with her lot in life. Vickie was happy, lonely, but happy as she watched her students. Student who were so unlike her. She never had a laptop computer to use at their age. Every student in her class had one and they all were busy at the keyboard solving today's problem, at least she hoped that's what they were doing. Since the school was setup for wireless internet, there was an occasional student who just had to check their e-mail or see who was online by checking their buddy list. More than one student was caught setting up a clandestine meeting with a schoolmate that they had planned in class. Such was the case with the high tech schools of today, teachers had to be aware of so many more things.
The school year was into its second month and October seemed to be long and difficult. Learning new names was always a chore and the looming parent teachers meeting just added more stress. Vickie was always afraid that she would forget a students name and be embarrassed beyond belief, so she scanned the class, trying to match a face with a name but those darn computer screens hid some faces making the job that much more difficult.
Vickie looked down at her own laptop and snickered to herself as she snuck a look at her own e-mail. If her students caught her there would be no end to the harassment. Six new e-mails. Two of which she knew were not meant for her because both boasted of increased penis size, she deleted both immediately. Three others were of no consequence but the last one was intriguing. The sender was SIXTH PERIOD TRIG in big, bold letters. She paused before opening and she reminded herself that this was her sixth period trig class. Could some one in this room be sending her a message. She wondered how they got her address but then reminded herself that her school e-mail would be really easy to determine. It was always the teacher first initial, followed by the their last name and then the school.
Vickie was torn between just deleting the message but the her curiosity got the better of her and she opened it. It read:
Dear Miss Roach,
You are my favorite teacher. You could not begin to believe the impact you have on my life. Thank you for being you.
SIXTH PERIOD TRIG
Vickie read and reread the message and then scanned the class to see if some one was observing her. She saw no incriminating stares and was troubled by the message. She wondered if she she report it. It contained no threats, no vulgar language, no inclination that the sender would harm anyone so Vickie decided that it might just be a smitten teenager. Vickie never really had a student, or anyone for that matter, write her such a note. The more she thought about it the more she thought it must be a joke. Some cruel student trying to aggravate a teacher or it could even be a practical joke from a colleague. Vickie promised herself to be on guard because she didn't want to look foolish but she also felt a flush of excitement that it was possible that someone liked her.
The rest of the period and day went without further incident and the phantom e-mail slipped from her mind.
Dave Barry wondered how his teacher received his e-mail. He had sent it to her on a whim, although he did find his trig teacher to be both very pretty and desirable. Nobody else thought of Miss Roach this way but Dave knew that if she just would take the effort to modify her look that she would be a beautiful woman. Dave had watched as she looked down at her computer. He wasn't certain that she was reading it but when her head popped up and she looked the class over, he knew. Since she started looking at the opposite side of the class from him, he had plenty of time to busy himself with today's problem. He already had the answer and that was why he had time to think of his teacher. He liked her as most of the students did but he liked her for her potential, her inner beauty and wished he could extract that and turn his thoughtful, caring teacher into the beautiful flower that he knew existed under her disguise.
Dave was an average eighteen year old boy. He was good looking and smart but if his peers were asked to name the best looking and smartest, Dave's name would not appear in the top ten, if at all on the list. Dave was the kind of student that tended to melt into a crowd, become invisible, the kind of a student that others never remembered. But Dave was kind and caring even though he had only a few choice friends. He never was one to do something just be with the in crowd. Dave had confidence and a fine eye for what really mattered. He would be quick to help anyone and had done so, even though his kind acts were quickly forgotten. Miss Roach was Dave's kind of person. She was also kind and caring and all he had to do was bring out her inner beauty. He wanted to do this not for his own benefit, not so that he could ravage the new found beauty but he wanted to do so in the same manner a gardener cares for a newly planted seed, knowing that his effort will yield a precious flower.
The days passed without another message and Vickie quickly forgot until one day after class she checked her e-mail. In her in box a new message from SIXTH PERIOD TRIG waited for eyes. Vickie nervously looked around her now empty classroom and then she felt silly for doing so. She opened the message and it read:
Dear Miss Roach,
I come to school every day to see you. I wonder if you know that during class that someone desires you, someone thinks that you are special, someone is peeking under your well masked facade and sees the beauty that lies therein. Well, Miss Roach, I desire you.
SIXTH PERIOD TRIG
Vickie must have read that message a dozen times and each time she asked herself another question. Who would write this? What high school student would use words like facade and therein? What high school student would find her desirable? The more she read it the more confused she became. She opened her grade book and went through each name and thought about the possibility of that student being the author. Name after name and name and no suspects. Vickie didn't even realize it when her finger glided over Dave Barry's name without so much as a thought because Dave was one of those students who was invisible even though he was in plain sight.
That night as Vickie exercised she thought of the e-mail and it's contents and she carried those thoughts with her as she went to bed. Unknown to her, Dave had planted a seed in Miss Vickie Roach's head that was just starting to germinate.
Wednesday's class went without incident. She could not even venture a guess as to the source of the mystery e-mailer. At the end of the period Vickie had mixed emotions about not receiving another message. She was somewhat relieved that another had not come but also a splinter of disappointment had pierced her well hidden demeanor.
