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She stood up for the whole class to see, clearing her throat in preparation.
"But I'll start deducting from your overall grade if this continues Mr.
" With one final scowl aimed at his helpless victim, the aging professor returned to his increasingly boring lecture." Wyatt Anderson snapped to full attention at the sound of his name called.
A foot guy for as long as he could remember, Wyatt found Joy's feet to be the most perfect he had ever seen, and that meant something, considering at the time he'd spent staring at classmate's feet.
She was a straight A student, that one extrovert you always seem to have in every class, and ironically was the reason Wyatt found himself distracted so much.
Anderson, can you please tell the rest of the class which battle Napoleon met his end at during the 19th century?
Her brown soles were lighter than the rest of her skin, not a callous or speck of dirt upon them.
"Should have done it the first day," Wyatt thought to himself.
"Now for those of you paying attention, who would like to correct Mr.
" A dozen arms shot up, but none as quick at the girl directly in front of Wyatt.