The Sleeper in the Rye [Dr. Enyeart]

[AIMEE GLENWOOD]

Today had been a long day for the gal sitting the second row of the back of the class. That long day consumed of two long lectures of Trigonometry and Molecular Energy, and a lab in Physiology/Anatomy, all before lunch thus made her feel sick to her stomach. The only food choices she had before those classes was a bagel and coffee with whip cream. Lunch is past now and it was the last class of the day with English III with Dr. Enyeart, she didn't understand why that they all call him with the word 'doctor' before his surname, her mom is a doctor but Mr. Enyeart isn't.

In class they were to read the book The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, The class voted on to read the book one by one within ten minutes of reading, Ms. Glenwood fell asleep on her desk with her book over her face while still holding it by the left side of the pages. Another ten minutes as past after reading the part of Holden talking to the prostitute, she was called on by some random boy in the class but nothing happened within the first ten seconds, after that everyone giggled as Aimee continue to sleep. She isn't a snorer but that would have been even funnier.

Aimee was off in her little world right when her book fell out of her hand and hit the floor. It got really quiet but her head was really loud, dreaming loudly but in the real world, in this class room it was completely silent. She was dreaming of total werewolf take over at New York City but in a more science fictional way so they are standing up on two legs and at the same time, they all carried guns. Totally badass dream this dream was, until.

SLAM

"The prostitute is a phony!" She said out lout as she almost jumped out of her seat. Aimee also noticed that there was a broken yardstick on her desk. Craaaaaap the girl thought as she looked up at her English teacher, her most concerns are having to buy him another yardstick but detention is also most likely going to be the case. If it was detention, her mom will probably calling her for why she isn't home yet and then the phone call that she has detention. Worst day ever.

RRRRIIINNNGGG

Everyone got up and got up including her and headed out the door until-

OOC: This is gonna be fun. ^^

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[DR. GREGORY ENYEART]

The Catcher in the Rye was the book that they were going over. Gregory loved the book, but then again, he loved most books. And his passion spilled into his teaching. He wasn't one of those teachers that droned on and on, but he did get discouraged when students didn't have the same joy that he did when reading a novel. He was definitely overqualified for the job, but apparently going crazy and leaving your family and friends back home tended to have them not raise too many questions. He wore a nice and crisp white shirt with a tie, slacks, and dark shoes. He read along with the class as they read, reading glasses perched on his nose. His floppy hair was a bit disheveled because he had had an early morning run, but overall, he had a respectable look to him. The boy that was reading was rather slow in his recitation, which frustrated the teacher, but he kept his frustration to himself, only revealing it with the tapping of his shoe against the thin carpet of the classroom floor.

He had them do the thing where students would read and call on each other. It made him seem less like he was out to get certain kids, though some of them honestly deserved it. His teaching style was relaxed, but his passion could command the classroom. At least it used to when there were young adults sitting in class. As much as the children here would hate for him to say, they were like literary toddlers to him. Their essays were middling, their contributions tended to just be this empty-voiced recitation of the text. Gah, he missed being a professor at a college, but didn't have the confidence that he could actually hold the job. If he hadn't anchored himself by sitting at the desk, he'd be pacing.

The boy called on Aimee. Dr. Enyeart was so unnerved that he hadn't noticed that she was sleeping. At the high school, he gained the reputation of being scatter-brained and spacey, but that wasn't his fault. He could always blame the werewolf that bit him for ruining his life in any case. The red head looked peaceful and Gregory felt spiked with power and did something that he'd never do himself, before getting changed. He picked up the yardstick and smacked it against her desk. It broke, which he didn't mean to do. Being a werewolf meant that he was physically stronger than a man, but he shrugged it off, let it be a non-issue. The issue at hand was Aimee. She woke up with a start and a sentence that, remarkably, had something to do with the class today. The bell rang, which always startled Dr. Enyeart a little. Bells didn't ring at the college and he didn't like the whole scheduled feel of high school. Preoccupied for a second, he started toward his desk, but the flash of red hair in his periphery made him remember what he was supposed to do.

"Not so fast, Miss Glennwood," Gregory said as he stood strongly and authoritatively at the front of the class. It was only in the classroom that he had dominance. Everywhere else he melted into a puddle of submissiveness. He strode with long strides across the room, toward Aimee. "Detention." He wondered idly if she drove to school. There were some college students that he had taught that hadn't even gotten their permits yet. He smiled.

[AIMEE GLENWOOD]

Not so fast, Miss Glenwood. He told her as he stood in front of the room. Aimee actually believed that she could have gotten away from a detention. The last time the girl had ever gotten a detention was when she was in third grade when she punched another girl in the face for calling her a 'daddy's girl', that term was never the case obviously from her past and just wanted to forget about it. Actually, Aimee got three detentions because she broke the other girl's nose but nonetheless that girl deserved it yet she didn't get a single detention for calling her a bad name. At least in her opinion, 'daddy's girl' is a bad name.

Aimee froze and let the other students behind her walk past her as they snicker to themselves, she even heard Good luck, Aimee from another student. The teacher didn't seem to be in so much of a positive mood today, maybe he had another sleeper in the rye earlier. That theory would be amazing but detention was in Ms. Brown's classroom today. Detention. She didn't expect anything less honestly, sleeping in class was a major no-no, especially in a science or English classroom setting.

The girl groaned quietly after the last student exited the room and walked toward the teacher, setting her backpack on the desk that she slept on. "Is in Ms. Brown's class, I know,"

[/color] She finished Mr. Enyeart's sentence, probably going to give her another sentence for that reason. "Soooooo, where's my detention slip?" Aimee asked him, she didn't see a single slip of paper anywhere and his desk is perfectly clean. Well, at least it isn't rainin- It was raining outside and she had to walk about five blocks home and she didn't have an umbrella for these hilly roads.
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[DR. GREGORY ENYEART]

And then, it all fizzled out. Miss Glennwood took his sentence finished it. Truth was, he didn't really know that kids went into Ms. Brown's class to do the whole detention thing. And he didn't know a lick about detention slips. He had been a teacher in this highschool since it started up this year, but had mostly kept to himself. He didn't have many teacher friends. The humans, he didn't want them to get to know that he was a werewolf, and the other werewolf teachers, well, he didn't enjoy how much they had become comfortable with the whole fact that they were monsters. Completely monsters. However, his avoidance of the others in the school finally caught up with him and made the fact that he hadn't settled at all since moving to Blackwood. He was still home, with his wife and kids in his heart, longing to be back there. And it affected his work.

"Oh. Well. Detention slip," Dr. Enyeart said. It was obvious that he didn't know what he was doing. Then again, nobody handed out detention slips at the college, either. You had to talk to a student? They told it to your face. And they were usually mature enough not to do stupid things. And if they slept in class, well, they had to deal with a big, fat zero. Unless they had magically learned the material through osmosis. That happened too. College students were remarkable creatures. Too smart for their own good that they learned how to learn with the minimal effort while still being good participants in the classroom. High-school kids either didn't try at all or they tried too hard. And, well, the whole thing seemed more institutionalized than what he was used to. There were forms for everything. Dr. Enyeart didn't like filling out forms.

"Well, uh." He opened his desk and opened a drawer. The glossy table was overly neat. His name was on a little stand-up name-tag that read DR. GREGORY D. ENYEART in a serif font. He opened another drawer and found what he was looking for—or at least he thought he did. A small slip of paper, lines across and the fields bolded. He wrote quickly in a scrawl. "So. Yeah." He noticed that it wasn't a detention slip. It was a loose permission slip asking permission from the parents if the kids could read Catcher in the Rye. Some parents were really serious about that banned book list. Something else that nobody cared about at college—mostly because the students were legally adults, though from their actions, Gregory begged to differ.

"Oh," he said. "Well." And then he crossed out the top, wrote DETENTION SLIP, changed the words around. "It's almost a detention slip." An easy smile completely disarmed him, left his expression open and friendly. "See, when I taught at the college, we didn't have to deal with this stuff," he explained.

High-school was stifling and the only good that came from it was that he mentioned his past life in explanation. This indicated that perhaps, emotionally and mentally, the healing process had begun. Perhaps he could start to forgive himself for becoming a monster, for leaving his loved ones, his success, and his passion. Blackwood forced him to adapt to being a werewolf.

[AIMEE GLENWOOD]

He doesn't know we do detention slips?! She nearly gasped in her thought when he simply stated the words 'detention slips'. Maybe this girl could actually get away from getting a detention after all, it will make life a lot simpler if her teacher didn't even have detention slips and that he would have to request them from the main office, that's where all teachers gets their detention slips. She only guessed that this school done the detention slip process, she moved to Blackwood somewhat when she was only thirteen after the whole issue with her dad, they traveled far to get to this unknown town and it seems to be working right now.

Watching the English teacher from a distance, seeming to look like he was looking for his detention slips but he actually didn't have any, instead, he used the slip of paper that her and her mom signed to read Catcher in the Rye about a week or a week and a half ago perhaps. The weirder thing was that while the teacher was explaining how he normally wouldn't hand out detentions, he was being all friendly and nice. Aimee expected him to be all cranky that he had to do a few more things in Blackwood High than he would at the college, similar to the one near where her mom works at.

She took the paper slowly and grabbed a pen that she had in her pocket and signed it with her initials: A.S.G, in cursive. "Today was a rough day for me and now is longer,"

[/b] She muttered almost to herself. "It's kinda late to show up for detention for Ms. Brown, so I guess I will serve it tomorrow unless you wanted me to clap your blackboard erasers outside in the rain as my detention" Aimee said sarcastically, nobody uses blackboards anymore with chalk, not even this ghost town with a monster as herself. Aimee sometimes she forgets that she's what she is, it became more natural to her, yet she hasn't even told this secret to the closest person in the world to her, her mom.

It's been a few years since she became what she is today, it was also ironic for a werewolf's perspective that she had to move almost a month after she was attacked by that dog but it was for the family issues that they (AImee and her mom) were getting. The constant stalking, harassing (both regular and sexual), and threatening. They almost got a restraining order going on and there had been rumors from her aunt that Aimee's dad wanted to take her home, back in Redding. She told her aunt straight up 'Oh hell no' and that was that. There was no court date set for an arrangement for Aimee, her mom, and sperm-donor (biological father) to fight for Aimee, even if that happens, it'll be clearly a no.
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[DR. GREGORY ENYEART]

Gregory nodded as he listened to Aimee, indicating that he was thinking about what to do with her. Perhaps a kid staying over was the best thing. Really, it reminded him of the old days, when there would be a couple students who'd stand around after class was over to chat with him and talk to him about the reading, about what they thought of the lecture or discussion. True, he thirsted for this interaction, which he was used to. But he thought that he couldn't go back. He knew that there were a lot of werewolves here, a large concentration of humans at the college, any college really, and that he hadn't had full command of his werewolf side. Nor did he really want to talk about it at the moment.

"Well, clapping blackboard erasers wouldn't end up on your record," he said with a genial smile. Dr. Enyeart went to the white board, picked up the bottle of spray from the corner. "Or cleaning up the whiteboard is good, too." He didn't miss having a blackboard. In his down-south college, chalk-butt was a common problem. Common enough to have him demand an honest to goodness whiteboard like they had in the science department. He never got it, but hey, he had one now. Then again, he considered the price and would take the blackboard back if it meant he could go back to his old life.

He was aware that Aimee was having a rough day. And, honestly, he wasn't really mad at her for sleeping in class. Just a little disappointed that she wasn't into the story as much as he always would be. He handed Aimee the cleaning solvent and a paper towel. "Whaddaya say?"

[AIMEE GLENWOOD]

The kindness was slightly bothering her, he later stated that clapping the blackboard erasers wouldn't end up on her record, thus he was being nice enough to not let this detention end up to a phone call to her mother that her daughter got a detention and she has up to seven days to serve it. The Doctor of English grabbed a spray bottle and a paper towel and handed it to her. Aimee's thoughts on clapping blackboard erasers probably triggered the cleaning the whiteboard idea for what she could do for him for sleeping during the reading.

It wasn't that she wasn't interested in reading The Catcher in the Rye, but it was just the previous events that led her to falling asleep in class. The two long lectures and the lab before lunch. It was mainly the lab's fault because it made her feel sick to her stomach and led her not to eat lunch. The longer days made her more sleepy and everyone knows what happened in English class today.

Aimee grabbed the two items without saying a word, normally she would say something but didn't quite get her mouth open to say anything. She walked up to start cleaning the whiteboard, spraying the solvent and erasing the class schedule, a freshman must have wrote it because it was off and the handwriting was horrible, not to be sexist but it was also probably a male's handwriting. She continued spraying the board and erasing the words and noticed it was horrifying quiet.

"So, Doc," She paused her intro section to figure out what she wanted to start a conversation with. "What college did you teach at? Harvard or some smancy college?"

[/b] Smancy was a slang term for fancy or something like that, she never knew how it gotten into her vocabulary. Aimee was a junior and she had to take the SATs or ACTs to get into a university such as CSU San Bernardino or any university. Right now Aimee hasn't decided on what college she wanted to go to. She already did her two years of a foreign language for the A-G requirements that California has. It was just the matter of passing all her math, science, and English classes. She is also in Band for her fine arts so just doing well on the SATs (which is what Aimee is planning on taking) is the only thing she needs to do well on.
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[DR. GREGORY ENYEART]

Gregory was just an all-around nice guy, definitely, but he didn't understand that his good-heartedness was starting to bother Aimee. Perhaps she wasn't used to having nice professors, er, teachers. There were such thing as mean college professors, but they tended to be in majors that, let's just say, didn't have as much use for creativity.

He watched as Aimee sprayed the solvent. The sharp scent made him reel back a little. A new werewolf, and one that didn't exactly want to accept that side of him at all, often left him out of control of his enhanced senses. He didn't practice being a monster because that would admit that he was one. He covered his nose with a hand. Perhaps it would do well if he took the time to figure out how to ignore some scents instead of accept the world as a big, buzzing ball of confusion and avoid places that had that chemical smell to it. There was a reason why he never went down the hall with the science labs. Bunsen burners and formaldehyde.

He recovered when Aimee addressed him with a question. He still had his hand over his face, though he switched to pinching his nose. "Well," his voice began, much too nasally. It embarrassed Dr. Enyeart, so he opted to remove his hand and set it in the other, so that he folded his hands out of the way. "Well," he started again, his accent coming out a bit stronger than usual, "I taught at a University in Pennsylvania before I come here. Was a smaller, private college." He kept things vague. He wasn't comfortable yet with telling Aimee everything. Greg remained guarded, a trait typical to werewolves that had once been successful and who didn't have the personality to match their new predatory side.

"But it don't matter none, er, doesn't matter at all," Gregory self-corrected, his words were starting to become scattered as he tried to dodge subjects. "Anyhow, I'm here now. A regular fish out of water, but that's still fun, ain't it?" He sighed. He was trying to be nice, but he was tired. Tired of running away. He contemplated going back to his wife and kids, telling them that he was a werewolf now and that's why he left, but then, he knew that he didn't want to expose them to that kind of darkness.

"I wrote some books," he said, finding a path in conversation

[AIMEE GLENWOOD]

It took Aimee a while to notice the sharp smell of the EXPO whiteboard spray, she try to not let people notice her reacting to the sharp chemical smells. She's a werewolf, she knows that, it took her a long time for her to get use to the fact that she was one and that she can have a good amount of herself controlled. Chemicals on the other than, this werewolf tries hard to not pay attention to it but it happens. "Yeah, I hate the EXPO smell too, the whiteboard markers are way more worse. Today in Anatomy, we were dissecting a cow eye and I thought that I was going to die, or at least puke in the trashcan." Even saying that made Aimee wanted to puke in a trashcan, the chemicals have a aftertaste even if you didn't drink anything. The girl took a deep breath and continued spraying the whiteboard, again, trying not to bother.

Now the teacher talked about where he use to teach before Blackwood High, it came out to be a small private college in Pennsylvania. Private college means a set price and is usually more expensive than just a regular university. "Sounds fancy, why did you quit that job and come to nomad's land Blackwood?" Aimee asked, "It's in the middle of nowhere, honestly I wouldn't have moved here if I had to, but I had to." Blackwood was really different compared to Redding, California. One, it was more in the mountains as Redding is in the northern part of the Sacramento Valley. Another difference is that Blackwood is way smaller than Redding, in Redding, Aimee would normally have to have her mom drop her off at school, now it's walkable distance and walkable to get to anywhere in the town. the last major thing is that there were way more werewolves than humans, at least there's a percentage, a ratio if you will. Maybe a 1 to 3 ratio, who knows? It's all a secret anyways.

"You mean: I taught at a University in Pennsylvania before I came here?"

[/color] For an English teacher who taught at the university level, that was not a common mistake, a fifth grader might have caught that. Not that Aimee uses perfect grammar all the time, it was just one of those moments in time where she gets to correct a teacher on grammar. How exciting?

It didn't matter to Greg now he stated afterward. She said a simple 'Oh' to herself as she wiped the last markings of the whiteboard. Hopefully it wasn't too personal for him to talk about, at least the moving from one location to the other. It is personal to her but she always lied about it, depending if she's good at lying or not depends of the person who hears it. Aimee believes it's a white lie because it's not entirely false but it's for their good. The lie is that her mom was offered a better job position and pay at the San Bernardino Hospital as a nurse and that her dad died. At least that's how she wishes it at the moment. The constant harassment, if she had the money, she'd hire and assassin but another factor would be the guilt. Guilt isn't the best feeling in the world, she knows that for a fact.

"No need to offend ya but for an English teacher, you don't use the most perfect grammar, then again, I'm not a grammar-nazi," She laughed a bit to herself. Aimee put the cap on the solvent spray bottle and sat it down on a random desk. "Alrightie, all clean and what kinds of book, fiction, non-fiction?"[/b] She heard her English teacher said that he wrote a few books, that always really extraordinary to know because she only met a few authors in real-life and they were all really nice. This was now the new conversation.
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[DR. GREGORY ENYEART]

"Sounds fancy, why did you quit that job and come to nomad's land Blackwood?" Aimee had asked. "It's in the middle of nowhere, honestly I wouldnt' have moved here if I had to, but I had to."

She really was needling her way into him. Being a tad nosy, but perhaps he could satiate some of her curiosity while giving her a not-so-subtle hint about the fact that this was a subject he wanted to drop. "Let's all just say that certain events happened that forced me into this situation," he said in a drawl. He was getting a bit nervous, which made it harder to hide his accent.

However, she seemed a bit insensitive to the different dialect groups of America when she corrected his former statement. He didn't say a word about it. At least, not until she directly offended him. Usually tagging a sentence with "No need to offend ya" meant that, yes, you were going to offend somebody. And that was honestly the case.

"Lookie here, Aimee," he said, regaining the control of the classroom. His amicability had given way to the frustrated patience a parent showed a petulant child. "There is a difference between spoken English and written English. And in written English, there's a difference between informal use and formal, academic use. We are chattin' up right now. There are going to be several instances of fragments, run-on sentences, misplaced pauses, and whatever the ver-nack-klur (vernacular) of region is. And, there ain't no need to assume that just 'cause someone grew up in a certain area that they are less educated on account of the way they speak." He nodded decisively after he explained that. He had to go against a lot of prejudice due to the way he spoke when he was a student yet at his University.

He was more focused now, which meant that he could hide his accent a lot better than he had before. "I guess the whole point of what I'd just said is that you oughtn't judge someone's intelligence by their dialect. Hell, you do realize you talk in an accent yourself?"

When she mentioned the books that he wrote, biting on the subject change that he had laid out the last time, he smiled. "I actually wrote a few books on the modern interpretations of fairy-tales and classics in popular media today and whether their meaning has been transformed or lost. So, I reckon it's non-fiction, but really, it's all speculative." Gregory said with a nod. "And, I am writing a fiction book right now. Actually, a children's book."

He left out who he was writing it for: His wife and kids that he had left behind. A small message in it, about a father wolf who was snatched away from his cubs and mate when he fell into a river. He had the conflict, but couldn't figure out the resolution—in much the same way that he couldn't figure out that part of his predicament in real life.

"I need an illustrator yet and am stuck in the whole... writer's block thing." He said with a shrug. "Who'd have thought writing a children's book was harder than writing a 300 plus page piece on academic speculation and interpretation of children's books?"

[AIMEE GLENWOOD]

The professor wasn't super specific on how he got into Blackwood but that was understandable. Truly, Aimee didn't want to leave Redding, there were reasons. Let's all just say that certain events happened that forced me into this situation. Greg told her simply. Maybe she was asking too much questions now. "Yeah, my dad was a total douche to my mom so that's why we moved out and she divorced the bastard," She told him. The female werewolf didn't exactly wanted Greg to feel alone about these situations but at the same time, she was being a bit nosey.

Then the tables turned sharply. There is a difference between spoken English and written English. And in written English, there's a difference between informal use and formal, academic use. We are chattin' up right now. There are going to be several instances of fragments, run-on sentences, misplaced pauses, and whatever the ver-nack-klur (vernacular) of region is. And, there ain't no need to assume that just 'cause someone grew up in a certain area that they are less educated on account of the way they speak. Aimee regretted offending him now. Plus she was the one who fell asleep in his classroom that got her into this mess anyways and now there was a larger mess.

Aimee never realized that she had an accent, it was always natural to her and so were most accents really. It's just different compared to other people. "Sorry, I should have thought about saying something like that before actually saying it." Her eyes went to the tiled floor when saying that. Didn't want to actually look at him in the eyes.

Now changing the subject into books. Aimee likes to read on her own time. Their current book The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger was alright, not entirely her favorite book but it ought to get more interesting. I actually wrote a few books on the modern interpretations of fairy-tales and classics in popular media today and whether their meaning has been transformed or lost. So, I reckon it's non-fiction, but really, it's all speculative. She didn't believe in fairy-tales ever since she figure out what she became. The only thing mythical that she believes are the werewolves because she is one. Nothing else no unicorns or anything into that category. "That's cool, I'll have to read it when we're done with Catcher in the Rye."

Children books weren't her thing, nor drawing. She cannot draw to save her life. Her pictures would be of stick figures and doodle hearts. "Can't draw but I understand what you're saying," She said.