Old wooden desks covered the floor of Peter Michaelson’s Home Economics classroom. Walking across the black and white checkered tile, his Prada shoes stuck to the floor causing him to grimace with every step. Peter looked around the room wrinkling his nose at the sight. The desks were covered with the scars of past loves and chewed gum, and the blue chairs accompanying them were cracked from years of holding heavy weight. Cables covered the floor and climbed up the walls connecting to projectors and plug-ins. Sewing machines from 1963 were lined against the stained white wall collecting dust and giving spiders a place to call home, and the stove in the back corner was covered with old food pieces. His desk was old and falling apart and was covered with the coffee rings of past late nights grading projects and the nicks of scissors slipping from hands. Looking up at the ceiling, the tiles looked to have been replaced by mold and water stains, and some of the tiles seemed to have walked away leaving holes. The lighting fixtures were ancient and dangling by the thinnest thread of wire. Along the back wall next to the 1975 meatloaf stood metal cabinets with sewing patterns and fashion designs hanging from the outer walls. Seeing the pictures, Peter walked over to the cabinet and grabbed one of the clothing designs. The Vogue 1993 spring collection pleated skirt stared back up at Peter making him smile reminding him of the dream he gave up.



Peter never saw himself as the Shepherd High School’s Home Economics teacher. He pictured himself as Christen Louboutin’s executive assistant, helping with the makings of his new winter collection, but here, he was sitting in a class of teenagers who were taking Home Economics because they couldn’t risk failing another class.

Peter walked into his classroom swinging his hips and working his new Allen Edmond brown leather shoes.

“Mr. Michaelson, are those new shoes?” Mandy Neal, one of Peter’s regular students, asked eyed the freshly fashioned leather.

“Aren’t they fabulous? And they were only $50.00. A neighbor of a friend was selling them at a yard sell, and I just had to have them. The poor fellow didn’t even know what he had in his hands,” Peter placed his coffee down on his desk before sitting. “Oh, how I love a new the winter semester. This is the time to wear all of my sweaters that I have been saving. I have been dying, Mandy, simply dying to wear them”

“Mr. Michaelson, you don’t understand. I have been waiting to make my knit sweater dress that I designed over the summer in New York, and it’s simply to die for! Here is the sketch of it,” Mandy walked over to Peter’s desk showing him the dress. Mandy was one of Peter’s finest students. She managed to take his class every year since her freshmen year after she was accidently place in it.

“Oh darling, this is simply fabulous, but let me recommend something. See how you have this scoop neck? I would put a turtle neck here instead because a turtle neck sweater dress will always remain. A turtle neck done right will never go out of style,” Peter brushed his pencil across the page creating the turtle neck dress he was imagining. “See the difference?”

“Sort of, but what about the shelves now? Are they too short? I feel like they are too short,” Mandy glanced up at Peter.

“Shelves are tricky. You will learn that with time.” Peter placed a hand on Mandy’s shoulder dropping his pencil. “Hell beans,” he bent down reaching for his pencil when he noticed a stranger standing in the doorway. “Oh, pardon me. Mr. Thronton’s Sports Management class is in Room 304. The rooms have been changed for ten years now, but no one can seems to get it printed right on the schedules,” Peter walked past Mandy to get a better look at the new comer.

“Oh, I think this is the right place. I am looking a Mr. Michaelson, Home Economics,” the stranger said in a deep, rusty voice while brushing a hand through his hair. Peter’s face immediately lost all the blood that it once had, and his hands began to sweat. Noticing the streams of water coming from his hands, he began wiping them onto his pants leaving water marks. God, now I am going to have to dry clean these, Peter stared down at the watery hand marks.

The new comer was tall and muscular with a tannish glow to the skin. He had that charming smile that won over people instantly making him likeable. He had blue eyes with hints of green and forming a sparkle when the light shined on them, and his hair was a dark chestnut brown and was neatly trimmed and styled. But his nose and his blunt chin reminded him of Football Jersey. The way that he said ‘Oh, I think this is the right place’ reminded him of the false charm Football Jersey played on the teachers. The way that the bottoms of his shelves were a little too tight because of his muscle reminded him of Football Jersey. Staring at this guy, Peter’s mouth began to go dry, and his upper arms began to throb from the memories of the hallways. Peter’s head felt light, and his vision started to blur.

“Um, is this the right place?” the stranger looked between Peter and the door’s sign. “Are you Mr. Michaelson?”

“What?” Peter stared wildly up at the stranger. “Oh, yes this is the right room. Come in.”

“Thanks,” the stranger walked in a taking the first seat in the front row. He began to pull out a sketch book and pencil box opening it up to start working on a design.

“This is a first; we haven’t had a boy in the class for a while,” Mandy whispered giving Peter.

“Um, yes. I guess it is exciting. Will you excuse me for a moment?” Peter rose from his desk continuing to wipe his hands on his pants.



“Guys look, there goes Peter again,” Football Jersey said punching his buddy to the right of him. “Looks like he has those magazines again. I guess we’ll have to tell him our thoughts on them once more.” The boys laughed before following Football Jersey who was ready to grab for the magazines. “Hey Peter, what’s that you’re reading,” Football Jersey grabbed Peter’s the fall issue of Vogue out of his hands.

“Give it back, assholes,” Peter reached for his magazine praying that the edges wouldn’t get bent. Football Jersey threw the magazine over to one of his buddies before tossing it into a puddle of water.

“Oops, I’m sorry. Was that yours? I thought this was my sister’s. Please accept my apologies.”

“Really? She told me last night that she didn’t read Vogue. Instyle was more her thing. My bad,” Peter turned to go down the hall, but before he knew it, he was smashed into the wall of lockers.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, I didn’t say anything,” Peter breathed pulling his face away from Football Jersey’s fist.

“That’s what I thought. You make one more comment about my girlfriend, and I’ll spread rumors you couldn’t imagine. This whole school will know your little secret about how you are a little gay freak,” Football Jersey smashed Peter against the locker once more before letting him fall to the ground.



Come on, Peter. You can handle this. He is just a high school boy not the kid that you knew. You have control over the situation. Now come on, Peter. Just walk out of the bathroom and go back to class. Be the teacher you are supposed to be, Peter sat in the man’s bathroom stall with his feet pushed up against the door ensuring it locked tightly. He hadn’t stopped sweating since he entered the stall, and his pants were ruined with water marks. He stared down at the dirty tiled floor with his hands on his forehead trying to stop the high school memories from rewinding. He tried to not think about the wrinkled magazine and the ripped lab report that sat on the floor that today. He tried to not think about the black remainders that were left on his arms and the sting that accompanied them.

Rubbing his hand up and down his right arm, Peter stood up from the toilet seat making his way back to his classroom. This boy is nothing like him. He may be similar, but he isn’t like him. But what if he is? What if he is just like him? I’ll just kick him out then. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. He will be kicked out. Peter reached his room and grabbed for the door knob. Okay, Peter. Just be yourself, and if he is like him then you will kick him out. Simple and sweet. Peter opened the door and walked into the class of two. He looked at his class finding that Mandy had moved her desk next to this boy looking at his sketch book; they hadn’t noticed Peter’s bathroom episode and his re-entrance. They were too consumed with each other. Mandy was facing the boy with her head resting on her hand leaning in close towards him with a smile; he turned toward her telling her a story about how he was at some kind of design program this summer at the Parson’s School of Design. Mandy eyed him with excitement and wonder.

“How were the classrooms? I have heard they are simply fabulous and equated with the latest machines and tools,” Mandy beamed at him.

“They can’t be explained with words! They are like rooms that you find in fashion designing heaven. The finest, fastest machines are there loaded with the nicest sewing tools one could imagine. It killed me to come home to my ratty, old machine,” he smiled at her in return. “I have some of my sketches if you would like to see them?” the boy turned half way to grab another sketch book.

“Yeah!” Mandy moved her desk closer to his.

Peter just watched them completely absorbed in what he was seeing. Mandy quickly turned herself towards her bag applying a little layer of lip gloss and checked her hair in her miniature mirror. The boy quickly checked his breath, and after noticing his breath smelled like the lunch he just ate, he threw a mint in his mouth. The boy turned back around finding that Mandy was leaning closer into him waiting to see the sketch book. He seems different, Peter placed his head on his fist and continued watching.

He gave her a small smile, “It’s nothing much, but they are some of my favorite designs especially this one.” He pointed to a sketch. Mandy didn’t say again; she just sat there with her mouth open slightly staring down at the design.

Turning her head, she said, “This…this is beautiful. The bead is so precise and detailed.”

“The whole dress is supposed to be hand stitched. I drew this when we had our couture workshop, and I actually got started on the top part of the dress. I haven’t gotten to work on the rest lately; it’s hard to do when you are by yourself,” the boy stared down at the sketch with a hint of sadness in his eyes. Mandy stared down at the sketch studying the lines and details while wrinkling her forehead.

“What if we worked on it here?” Mandy looked up at the boy. “I am sure Mr. Michaelson won’t mind.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to impose on his class.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Peter said from his desk, causing the two to jump.

“God! When did you come back?” Mandy asked with her hand on her chest.

“Like ten minutes ago, but that’s another matter. I wouldn’t mind working on it; I actually think it’s a splendid idea. May I look at it…eh...” Peter stared at the boy trying to remember his name. What was it? Billy? No, Billy is the name of a goat. Dylan? No, hell beans.

“It’s James, James Webb. I don’t think I got to introduce myself,” James stood up to shake Peter’s hand. Peter shook the boy’s hands staring at him closely.

“Well James, let me look at this design,” Peter walked towards James’ desk turning the book to study the design. “This is quite good. Very good actually. This took you how long?”

“The design took about an hour to draw because of the detail that I wanted to put into it, but the top took me about a day and an half. Beads aren’t exactly the greatest thing the work with,” James chuckled glancing up at Peter.

“Try putting them on shoes,” Peter smirked at James.

“Mr. Michaelson wanted to be a shoe designer. His designs are simply beautiful. You should seen them,” Mandy smiled looking at James and Peter.

“That’s really interesting. Shoes never appealed to me,” James looked back up at Peter.

“They call special people. Can you imagine if every Tom, Dick, and Harry felt they could create shoes. Dear God, the world would be a mess,” Peter walked back to his desk grabbing his planning calendar. “We will start on Monday. James, bring in what you have tomorrow, and we will begin discussing our plans after we see what we have. If it’s anything like your design, it should be fabulous. Mandy, I want you to call Mod to see what their prices are on fabric. It’s been so long since I’ve been there that I can’t remember. Does that seem like a plan?” Peter looked up at James and Mandy.

“It is for me,” Mandy grinned at James.

“It sounds great,” James looked at Mandy and then at Peter.

“Good, you all are now excused. There’s supposed to be a Board Meeting in here tonight, and last time, someone grandma decided that these machines were hers to use. See you kids tomorrow,” Peter stood up walking to the sewing machine table.

“See ya tomorrow, Mr. Michaelson,” Mandy yelled as she walked out with James.

“Have a good evening, Mr. Michaelson. Thank you again,” James turned and waved before leaving with Mandy. “Now tell me about this group you mentioned earlier. Mick McAuley and who?”

“The group is called Mick McA…” they faded into the distant hall while Peter stood at the sewing machine table staring out the window.
Peter left the window walking over to his desk. He grabbed his bag throwing it other his shoulder and picked up his old coffee cup and keys. He walked out into the doorway looking back into his room feeling a new feeling. He smiled before turning out the lights and locking up the room.
God, I knew he wasn’t going to be like him. I need to stop freaking myself out; it only causes stress pimples or worse, wrinkles. Hell beans, I ruined my pants, too. Man, I really liked these pants; they made my butt look good. Maybe Carla can get the stains out. Hopefully, she won’t be too mad.