You slump back in your seat, your slim body relaxed with legs sprawled out underneath your desk. "Pre-Calculus," you think. "A month into this class, into my senior year, and I’m still bored." And who can blame you? Your teacher lacks any visible sign of enthusiasm to keep his class awake. Short, old, and balding, he stands at the board, emitting one monotone sentence after the other.

Groaning, you push your glasses back up the bridge of your nose. "I can do most of this in my sleep." Not that any of your other classes are much harder. Senior year in high school was said to be the easiest year of all, but you had at least expected your final math course to be a little challenging.

You look around. The rest of the class seems as bored as you are, some of them leaning back in their chairs like you, others chattering amongst themselves, passing notes, or just sleeping.

Fortunately, there’s something you can do to pass the time. You glance to the column of seats to your left. There she is, one seat up from your row, whispering quietly with a group of football players and a fellow cheerleader ahead of her. Alexis.

As slyly as you can, you let your eyes wander down her body. From her long, naturally straight black hair to her slender, pale white neck, down over the navy blue T-shirt that covers her perfect, hilly chest, past her short black skirt, her amazingly toned long legs, all the way to her soft, size 9 feet which she tantalizingly dangles her black flip-flops off of. She’s a sex symbol if there ever was one.