The hottest girl in my 10th grade class was Diana Teal, and baby she was hot. I don't know, maybe it was her peaches and cream complexion, or her soft brown hair, or her deep blue eyes, or the one extra button she always kept undone on her starched white blouse, or maybe it was the way the sunlight twinkled across her braces when she smiled. It didn't really matter, like I said she was hot, and she knew it. She was an office aide, and I remember the time she walked into my Biology class and my lab partner, Paul Heideloff, saw her and said "Yowza" in a voice so loud that even Mr. DiStefano, our teacher, with his bad rug and all, had to laugh, but Diana didn't blush, she didn't even break stride, at the most she might have let the florescent lights play across her braces as she gave a little half smile at the realization of the power she held over a bunch fifteen year old walking, talking hard-ons.