He made us line up- all 28 of us- just outside the door. That was when the latecomers knew we had a sub today. I was in the middle, still not able to see the teacher that stood before us. "What does he look like?" I asked, kicking the tall girl in front. "Angry bird," she laughed. "I doubt it!" I smiled, chuckling. "I hate noise!" The sub bellowed. I blushed, if angry birds could talk, that's how they would sound. Low and angry. He made us go in, in complete silence. I was next to Crystal. The brainiac. He stepped out in front the class. That was when I saw him. I almost did a double take, I swear! "Right, class. I'm Mr Trent. I hate noise, as two young delinquents have already found out...," he trailed on about what we had to do. All the time looking at me. His eyes were staring, cold and bloodshot. If I didn't know any better I'd have thought that he'd been crying. Whilst he looked at me I had a good chance to see the rest of his face. His nose was crooked. It was deathly pale- but so was the rest of him. His mouth, it was tiny and his lips were shrunken and wrinkled. His head was completely shaved, and, after looking for a while, I noticed something else weird. He had no eyebrows. They were drawn on, with what looked like it could possibly be a green crayola. He caught me staring, I was in a daydream state, literally senseless. He slammed both hands in front of me, on my desk. I jumped into the air screaming. "Miss Cane," he said after checking my name on my book," how very rude of you!" His fingers. Wow. To start with they were very long and thin. Too long. Too thin. Bony too. Then I moved onto his right hand. He had a black widow spider tattoo on his finger tips. All of them i guessed. I moved my gaze along his fingertips to check if I was correct. Partly, I was. He only had nine fingers... "Miss Cane!" He bellowed once again. "Actually, Sir. It's Kendall. Kendall Cane, and I do apologise!" I politely corrected. He got very angry then. All the class were on the edge of their seats, awaiting our next move. Mr Trent walked away cooly. Spinning on his heels he walked over to the whiteboard. I saw his neck, so did everyone else, it was scarred and burnt. Purple patches and blue patches. The freaky part was it looked fresh. New. Whilst he wrote on the board I could see his clothes. Boot cut, ladies, jeans. No boots- sandals. Socks too! A shirt 5 sizes too big! It was tucked in. Giving g him a skinny waist and a puffy chest. Maybe that was his body shape. Maybe? He spun around. His eyes even more bloodshot. A single, tiny tear trickled down his cheek. "Trust no one," he croaked before falling to the ground...