Sins of the Mafia King

“Ms. Sinclair, stay a minute after class. I need a word with you.” Mr. Keats’s stone-like voice makes me nervous. Out of all my teachers, Mr. Keats is the one who scares me the most. We never seem to get along, and every time I’m in his class, I feel guilty of some untold crime. I nod my head and curse internally at my luck. I’ve never had the good kind. It’s like they say, if I didn’t have bad luck, then I wouldn’t have any luck at all. Shuffling my books into my bag and grabbing my jacket, I watch the rest of my class leave me at his mercy. I don’t know what it is with this man, but he always makes me feel like the worst kid. Like nothing I do is right. My perfect grades hit a downward spiral in this man’s hands.