Any better?

I had heard a lot about Brainy College, even as a child.

My aunt is the principal of the school and has been for over twenty years. I visited her many times as she lived in New York but I could never muster the courage to pay her a visit while she was working at the college.

Brainy College was infamous for its unruly students and unconventional ways of teaching.

Admissions were only accepted for young adults based in Brooklyn and extra care was given to students with troubled backgrounds and those who'd failed to get a high school qualification.

The college was cost free and funded by local businesses. Teachers worked hard to get students ready for work life; putting emphasis on life and people skills.

I had always admired my aunt for everything she had accomplished over the years. She was passionate about her students and rarely took time off; spending all her holidays working on new ideas.

Despite all the positives of this College I'd never, in a million years, would've thought that I'd be working there someday.

Admiring it from afar was great but actually assisting with teaching? I don't know how I was going to do it. These kids were roughly my age, and were most likely a lot sharper too. It just didn't make sense. What was I going to learn from working there?

And there's no doubt about it. These kids are going to eat me alive.

'That's 50 dollars, bro."

I adjust my hat and shove my hand into my jean pocket. I give the money to the cab driver whilst sneaking a peak in the cabs rear view mirror.

I look unrecognisable.

My hair is hidden under a black, spiky wig. I'm wearing a baggy, beige shirt and navy, low rise, male jeans. I have to admit, the black trainers I'm wearing are doing wonders for my worn out feet.

Trainers or no trainers it's still so strange to see myself like this.

God . I think to myself whilst leaning further into the rear view mirror, ignoring the weird look the cab driver is giving me.

I really do look like a man. Scratch that. I look like a tall, skinny boy.

Ugh. Why did I agree to do this again?

I could have just left the moment my parents dropped the bombshell but there was a small part of me that wanted to prove them wrong. I knew by my parents hesitant expressions, when I left, that they didn't think I'd go through with it. I wanted to show them I could.

The only problem is that they're adamant that I give up modelling during my time at the college.

A clean slate is what you need if you want your time at Brainy College to have its full effect, is what they said.

Although I had managed, after hours of begging, to persuade them to let me walk the lingerie show in December.

But even that was at risk if I don't take my new job seriously. I have to show up to lessons on time, help teachers after school and provide one-to-one mentoring sessions. I agreed to all the conditions immediately.

Nothing is going to jeopardize the opportunity for me to walk for the lingerie show and I'm not willing to give up my opening and closing slot to any other model. Especially not to my so-called friend Kaitlyn. She's the reason I'm in this mess to begin with.

I exhale loudly and step onto the cracked pavement. I look around and breathe in the cool air.

I'd missed New York. Even if it's been less than 48 hours since I was last here. There was something about this city that left me breathless. The lights, billboards, tall buildings...yes, I witnessed this in London but there was a certain optimism in the air in New York.

Every person walking these streets worked towards something, dreams, they were willing to do anything to achieve.

I rush across a road and several cars honk at me.

I ignore the drivers shouts and jeering and heads towards a grey, box shaped building.

There isn't a lot to boast about the appearance of Brainy College. It's dull looking. From where I'm standing I'm able to see that a few windows on the first floor are broken and the walls are covered in graffiti.

This place did not look welcoming at all.

"Tessa! You're finally here!" My aunt's voice rings through the air. She's leaning against the gates surrounding the college.

Her gaze travels all over me.

"Wow. I must say I almost didn't recognise you at first. You do make a good-looking boy. What name have you chosen?" Her eyes twinkle with amusement. She's clearly enjoying my discomfort.

"Patrick." I reply quietly.

"Oh. Wasn't an ex boyfriend of yours calledPatrick?"

My cheeks flush, suddenly wishing I'd been more creative with my choice of name.

"It'll do." She murmurs to herself, "do you have any questions?"

"What time do I start tomorrow?" I ask, glad to be no longer talking about my ex.

She raises her eyebrows, "Eight. I thought you knew this. I told you enough times over the phone."

"Sorry, it was a lot to take in. How many classes will I be assisting?"

"Six."

"Okay. What shall I do if a student asks me something I don't know? I can guarantee you that it will happen a lot."

My aunt laughs and gives my shoulder a nudge, "I don't expect you to know everything Tessa. I'm doing your parents a favour, they wanted my help. The teacher you're working with is aware that you are not a teaching assistant and not a man. He'll help you."

For the first time during our conversation my mouth lifts into a smile, "That's a relief. What's his name?"

"Alex Presley."

"What does he teach?"

"English."

"Is he nice?"

"Yes! Stop fretting! You'll be fine."

"I hope so." I reply with a frown, "Can we go home now? I'm knackered."

"Theresa..." she drags my name out nervously.

"What is it, Aunt Katie?" I ask, already preparing myself for the worst.

A look of embarrassment passes her pretty features, "You won't be living with me."

"Oh." That's it?

"So, mum and dad are okay with me staying in my old apartment?"

"Not exactly." She hesitates.

I cross my arms, "This isn't funny, Aunt Katie. Where am I staying?"

She clears her throat, and moves her gaze away from mine.

"You'll be staying in the accommodation provided to Brainy College students. Wedefelt House."

I pause, allowing her words to settle in.

"You mean to say that I'll be living among psycho teenagers?"

"Theresa! These students aren't

psycho. I don't want to hear that word coming out of your mouth ever again! Do you understand?"

I roll my eyes, "Yes I understand."

"Good. You will be safe there. The accommodation building is monitored twenty four seven."

"But how is it okay for a teaching assistant to live with students? It's so unprofessional."

"You're not the only staff member living in Wedefelt House and maintaining professionalism is your responsibility. Am I right in thinking you don't have any plans in forming inappropriate relations with students?'

My eyes widen at what she is implying, "Of course not! I can assure you that no one my type will be living in that place. Also, look at me."

I stop to point at my wig and clothes, "I'm a guy, remember? No boy is going to cast me a glance."

"It's not the male students you have to worry about," she mutters thoughtfully.

Oh, crap . I hadn't thought of that.