"You're good at teaching. I'm impressed," I heard Toby say, making me look up from my drawing to face him. He was sitting at his desk, a look of concentration on his face as he clicked on his wireless mouse. I bit the inside of my cheek, remembering that he was coloring a poster that was going to be used next year. He was doing it in Photoshop. I was familiar with that - maybe I could help?
"The kids love you, or maybe it's because you're closer to their age. I can't really tell," he continued to say, pushing his bangs aside with his free hand. I looked away from him, not knowing how to reply to his comment. The class I'd taken had left the art room about thirty minutes ago, and neither Toby or I had a class to take for the next three hours.
I wanted to talk with him, but my mouth seemed
