A history teacher called Ms. Larne is running a b
A history teacher called Ms. Larne is running a bored games club but her students are getting used to her girlfriend (who is a ADHD English teacher called Ms. Evans) being in the club and being sniffly and there is dialogue. From the point of view of a student in the bored games club
The air hung thick with the scent of stale popcorn and slightly-too-sweet soda. It was Thursday, which meant Bored Games Club, and the familiar feeling of “this is going to be a long hour” settled in my stomach. The air wasn’t just thick with smells, it was thick with expectation. It wasn’t just the expectation of another drawn-out game of Settlers of Catan, it was the expectation of Ms. Evans.
Ms. Evans, Ms. Larne’s girlfriend, was an English teacher with a perpetual sniffle and the kind of boundless energy that could only be described as ADHD on overdrive. She’d been a fixture at the club for about a month now, and while initially her presence had caused a ripple of excitement, the novelty had worn off quicker than a cheap pair of dice.
Ms. Larne was a good teacher, a real stickler for facts and figures. She had a fondness for historical reenactments and loved nothing more than to make us all dress up as ancient Romans for a game of strategy. Honestly, she was a little too intense, but she was our teacher and we’d get through it. The problem was Ms. Evans. I mean, the woman was always sniffing. Like a leaky faucet, her nose just kept on dripping.
“Alright, folks,” Ms. Larne’s voice echoed through the room. “Who’s up for a game of Ticket to Ride?”
“I’m in!” bellowed Mike, our resident class clown. He was probably only doing it to get Ms. Evans’s attention. She had this habit of getting ridiculously competitive during board games. Last week, during a game of Monopoly, she’d actually accused Jason of cheating when he landed on Boardwalk. I think it was the constant sniffling that made her a little, well, a bit crazy.
“Don’t forget, the winner gets a prize,” Ms. Larne continued, her voice a soothing balm to the chaos of the room. She was good at keeping the club in check. But even she couldn’t seem to tame Ms. Evans.
Ms. Evans, having managed to snag the coveted orange train tokens, was already halfway across the board. “I call dibs on the orange routes!” she declared, her voice a little too loud for the room.
“Hey, Ms. Evans,” Jason piped up, his voice a bit too loud too, “Could you maybe… you know… hold it in?”
Ms. Evans’s head shot up, her face a mixture of confusion and hurt. “Hold what in?” she asked, eyes wide.
Jason flushed red. “The… the… you know…,” he muttered, pointing a shaky finger at his own nose.
A hush fell over the room. Even Ms. Larne seemed a little flustered.
Ms. Evans, however, simply shrugged and went back to the game, a triumphant smile on her face. “Oh, this? It’s my seasonal allergy,” she said, her voice full of mock seriousness. “Don’t worry, I’m not contagious.”
We all exchanged bewildered looks. It was hard to know what to make of Ms. Evans. Was she intentionally trying to be annoying? Or was she just… well, Ms. Evans?
One thing was certain, it was definitely going to be a long hour.
