Book Teacher's Pet Novels & Stories

“Can’t have a notebook without a pen.” “Will you read a chapter to me?” Caitlyn asked. “Before you go to see the others?” “Of course,” Chloe said, reaching for the book. “Now lie back and get comfortable.” Chloe cleared her throat dramatically and then opened the cover of the book. “Harriet the Spy. Chapter one. ‘Harriet was trying to explain to Sport how to play Town.’”

“My name is Talia Westwood, and my favorite book is…” My mind went blank. I couldn’t remember the name of a single book even though I had read so many. My eyes darted desperately around the room until they fell on the spine of a book poking halfway out of Ruby’s backpack. “It's- It's The Howl by Cole Turner,” I finished. “Very good,” Professor Cassian replied, giving me the same response he had given the others. He moved on to the next person. I slowly lowered myself back into my chair, my mind spinning. Soon the introductions were over. The professor moved to the front of the classroom once more.

Mr Collins instructs after he's finished his angry typing. “Reading what?” I ask. “That,” he points to a book that's on the couch where Theo had been sitting moments before. “What the…” I start to ask, then shake my head, “Right away, Professor Dumbledor,” I snark, picking up the book as he leaves the office. The book looks like a modern school textbook, but the title, ‘The Spark’ has me turning to the first page eagerly to finally get some freaking answers!

I could hear his voice through the door. Droning on about algebra. I nearly smiled. Certain things never change. I knocked. The droning ceased. "Come in," Mr. Peterson said. I opened the door. Stepped inside. I felt the weight of two dozen looks. Mr. Peterson blinked. Surprised. "Luna," he said. The word is stilted. Unsure. "How can I help you?" I swallowed. Hard. "I need to leave," I said. My speech was more steady than I felt. "Official Luna business." The words tasted odd on my mouth. Foreign. Mr. Peterson's eyes widened. Then he bows. Low and deep. "Of course." He said, "Luna." "Whatever you need." My cheeks felt hot. Embarrassment. Discomfort. This wasn't correct. Teachers should not b

The way his blood sang when I got close. No. I couldn’t go back there. Not like this. I closed my eyes, forcing myself still. Counting backward from ten. Ten. The sound of fire burning through my veins. Nine. The taste of blood I hadn’t had. Eight. The scent of the stranger in the bookstore. Seven. The throne. Six. Selene’s voice, smooth like a blade. Five. Calix. Watching. Four. The crack in the seal. Three. Raymond. Two. His skin under my hands. One. His voice whispering my name—Lord Perez.

The soft groan of wood rang out in the quiet bookstore as Lena turned over the last sign on the door: **CLOSED**. Outside, the city drew a breath, illuminated by amber streetlights and the quiet rumble of passing cars. Within, the world held its breath. Warm. Intimate. Holy.

Brett wheezed; Mase clutched his wrist and found the ceiling interesting. Lior’s sleeves were wrecked; his face hot; his snow-vanilla barely a thread under peppermint and spearmint thrum. Caleb placed the rescued books in his hands, careful like returning a heartbeat. Camden’s forehead touched Lior’s temple for a second and was gone. “Office,” the teacher said, voice rough.

11:54 11:55 11:56 11:59 12:00 Once the clock stroked 12, a shiver ran down my spine ,my body was aching for a release and he wasn’t in sight yet. I heaved a sigh,as the clock stroked 12:20 a few minutes later. The library had a few people in it but nevertheless I decided to go round placing books back where they were meant to be. I took off my jacket and started going round, placing books back, I got to the back row of the library , it didn’t have a enough light, so people hardly sat there to read, there was a book on one of the tables. It was a Novel by Ana huang famous author for the twisted series, it was Twisted hate and the open page was one the steamy hate sex scenes between Jules and

Young, I am so sorry about all this, but I can promise you none of our teachers have ever mentioned anything about a cat-faced old lady. Now that was strange. Could it have been something the other kids said? I looked at Justin with a serious face and asked, “Sweetie, think carefully. Did you see this cat-faced Miss Never in a dream? Or was it another kid trying to scare you?” Justin shot back, his voice steady and earnest. “Mom, I am not dumb. I know the difference between a dream and real life.” “This afternoon, when Ms. Zinn put on a Doraemon cartoon for us, Miss Never sat right there with us. She even taught us how to make a Bamboo-copter.”

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