Distraction: The Distraction Trilogy #1 (10 page)

He starts whistling a tune I don’t recognise as he cleans the board and when he’s done he turns towards his desk, so he still doesn’t notice my presence. I smile, wondering how I could make him jump, and then decide not to as it would probably just make things awkward.

As he tidies up the paperwork and books on his desk, I clear my throat and watch his startled eyes come to mine before a charming smile lights up his face. “Good afternoon, Miss Blackburn.” I love it when he calls me that. I don’t know why, but it makes me tingle a little in the pit of my stomach. “How are you today?”

“Grumpy, hungry and tired.” I respond honestly and saunter to the table closest to his desk, the same table I sat at last time.

“Eat, work and cheer up.”

“How will working on anything make me less tired and grumpy?”

He shrugs, smiling again. That’s so nice to look at. “It won’t, but it’ll stop you from moaning and then I won’t have to listen.”

“You suck as a teacher,” I grumble, pulling out my notebook and waiting for him to give me the work.

He places a sheet on my table and taps it with his finger. “This is probably easier than yesterday’s.”

“So why not give me this yesterday and yesterday’s today?”

After levelling me with a look that clearly says ‘shut the hell up’, he takes his own seat behind his desk and rests his feet on the surface, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes.

Seriously?

“I don’t hear writing,” he points out, his eyes still closed. He’s not wrong. I’m too busy staring at his socks. He’s wearing odd socks. One is dark blue and the other black. I can only see them because his legs are at an angle that have forced his trousers to slide towards his knees an inch.

When he opens his eyes to investigate and notices me staring, his eyes narrow on my face. “We don’t all have mother maids, you know.”

Snickering, I write my name at the top of the sheet and read through the first question before releasing the quip I was holding back. “No, but at least I have a sense of fashion.”

“There’s no such thing as fashion in this town.” He tugs on his trousers, trying to hide his socks, but gives up and sits upright before facing me. “You’ve got a choice of three stores, all of them appalling.”

“My mum goes to a different city every week. I don’t think I’ve ever shopped in this town in my life. That’s not including the time I needed a new memory card.” I grimace. “Did you know that the only place in town that sells memory cards is that weird little store on the corner of Laurel Avenue?”

His brows hit his hairline and he leans forward slightly. “Seriously?”

“Yep. Most people just order stuff online nowadays, but you’d think they’d have memory cards in the superstore.”

“That’s ridiculous. Plus that shop on the corner of Laurel… what’s it called?”

I look up to the ceiling in thought. I know this… I’m sure I do. “Bastian’s Corner?”

“That’s the one.” He scrunches his nose up with disdain. “The guy that owns it…”

“Bastian.”

“Right, he’s so…”

“Creepy?” I finish and he laughs before nodding. “Yeah, Hayley came with me and he asked her on a date. He’s mid-fifties I think.”

Mr Price shakes his head, suddenly looking boyish and slightly excited. “No, he’s got to be older. He had grey hair when I was your age.”

“And he’s not dead? Shouldn’t he be at least eighty then?”

His mouth drops open. “I’m not that much older! This was only twelve years ago.”

“Ah, back when I was in nappies,” I joke, my tone wistful. “Those were the days.”

“You were still in nappies at five years of age?”

I sigh and shake my head at my own idiocy. “Well I set myself up for that one.” To hide my pink cheeks, I grab my bag and pull out my lunch. “Want half?” He shakes his head, but I know he does. Nobody can resist my awesome sandwiches, especially after already having a taste. “That’s a shame. I made two, just in case…” I hold up the foil wrapped eight inch baguette and smile when it’s snatched from my hand. “You’re welcome.”

He merely responds with a groan at his first bite. I smile at my work and once more put my pen to the paper, feeling pleased with having pleased him.

I haven’t felt this happy in a while now. Though the second the bell rings and I exit the classroom, my good feeling is gone.

“I think I’m depressed,” I say to my dad when he gets in from a tiring day of work.

He stops, his tools in hand and a bag over his shoulder. I watch the door close behind him on its own and then look at my shoes to hide the embarrassment in my eyes. “Why do you think that? You seem fine to me.”

“I’m just… I feel down. Nothing makes me laugh anymore and nothing makes me happy.”

He drops his things on the ground and leans forward to kiss me on the head. “Is it your monthly?”

“Oh my god!” I cringe and back away. “Why has everything got to be about a girl’s period? Maybe I’m actually depressed.”

“Okay,” he sighs and tilts his head. “What can I do?”

My mouth drops open. “Are you serious? You’re my dad! You’re the adult! You’re the one who’s supposed to tell me what to do!” He opens and closes his mouth, struggling for what to say. “Forget it. Forget I said anything.”

“You know, it would be nice if I could one day come home to a smiling face for a change,” he shouts as I stomp my way up the stairs.

“And it would be nice if my home was a happy one for a change!” I shout back and slam my bedroom door, effectively ending the conversation.

Tears of frustration fall, but I stop them after the first three. They’re useless tears that will only make me feel worse.

Eloise
:
Do you want to sneak out?

Hayley
:
Need you ask? Meet you at the church in five?

Eloise
:
Bring a bottle of something strong.

Hayley
:
All I’ve got is a bottle of Jack left over from last weekend.

Eloise
:
Wicked! :D I’m on my way.

I lock my bedroom door and switch off the light. I doubt my dad will bother me now. When he’s in a sulk, he’s as bad as I am. His pride won’t let him say he’s sorry and I’ll be damned if I’m going to say I’m sorry to him.

Outside my window there’s a ledge that leads to the conservatory. I grab my bag and quickly climb out. My top gets stuck on the corner and tears slightly when I drop to the ledge.

Bugger.

This is one of my favourites.

Pushing my anger at my own idiocy from my mind, I carefully make my way towards the corner of the ledge where a wooden pillar holds it from the ground, watching my feet on the tiles so as not to dislodge any.

Right, I’ve done this before. I can do it again.

Inhaling a large breath, I crouch and slide myself over the edge so only my top half is clinging to the tiles and my bottom half is dangling as my feet try to find the pillar. When they make contact my heart steadies its rhythm, giving me enough time and courage to lower myself further and wrap my thighs around the narrow wood.

With one last move and with trembling hands, I push myself even further over the edge, using my legs as an anchor to the wood, until I’m only holding onto the ledge with my fingers.

I blow out the breath I was holding and finally release one leg to find the porch fence with my foot.

When I’m safely on the ground my relief is unimaginable. Why the hell am I doing this again?

Who cares, let’s get drunk and forget about it.

Eloise

“Coffee,” I grumble as I walk into Crystal’s and fortunately she hands me a coffee the second I step behind the counter.

“You look awful,” she tells me, clucking her tongue and rolling her eyes. “Rough night?”

“If I could remember it, I’d tell you.” I slurp down a large gulp of coffee, ignoring the fact it burns the majority of my tongue and pallet. “Can I have five minutes?”

Crystal fiddles with the pins in her silvery hair and levels me with a sharp gaze. “Yes, but don’t forget you’re running the show until eleven thirty. I have an appointment I need to attend.”

Bollocks, I completely forgot about that. “No problem. I’ll just use the bathroom and take a few painkillers.”

“They’re in the cabinet in the staffroom. Stay out of my codeine; you don’t want to be mixing that with whatever is in your system.”

I sigh and make my way into the staff room, dashing into the bathroom to expel the contents of my stomach. Fucking hell this day is going to suck arse.

Isaac

I check the clock on the wall for the eighth time and tap my fingers against my desk in frustration. She’s twenty minutes late. I’m assuming she isn’t coming.

Fuck.

I don’t have time to waste waiting around for a student who clearly doesn’t give a shit about her education.

I start to pack away, angrily thrusting my workbooks into my bag. I’m not sure what’s upsetting me more, the fact I don’t get a taste of those wonderful sandwiches she brings or the fact that she didn’t bloody call the school to leave a message to tell me that she’s not coming.

Well I’m not helping her any more than I already have. She’s on her own.

I fucking hate time wasters.

When I leave the classroom, I immediately move to the window that overlooks the carpark and check to see if Katherine’s car is there. It’s not, which means she’s already left for her lunch.

Looks like I’m flying solo.

Great. Just great.

I hate it when plans are cancelled last minute without my knowledge. I could be doing so many better things, but instead I’m now forced to drive to the nearest café to grab something quick to eat.

Pulling up outside Crystal’s, I almost curse at the sight of the queue. I see two of the baristas racing around looking like headless chickens without a clue. They’re only young girls and they’re clearly out of their depth.

There’s no chance I’ll be getting served within the next twenty minutes and I don’t have that kind of time.

I’m about to climb back into my car when I notice somebody behind the till, somebody who should be in my classroom completing her work but is, instead, looking stressed and tired, with some kind of dark stain down the front of her top and light pink apron. It looks like coffee. I hope she hasn’t burned herself.

I’m going in there, aren’t I?

Yes… yes I am. Bollocks. Why do I care?

The door jingles as it opens, but nobody looks over. The noise level is ridiculous and the staff are still racing around with trays of drinks.

Tables where people are sitting are full of empty cups and plates that people are moaning about. Can’t they see the girls are busy enough?

“I already told you, we’re completely out of gingerbread syrup.” Eloise’s voice is the one I notice above all others. She sounds frustrated and exasperated.

“I can see a bottle right there on the fucking wall behind your head!” The young man responds angrily, his voice loud and booming.

“And like I just said, that’s the display bottle. Its contents aren’t real! Would you like a shot of chemical jelly in your coffee?”

“For fuck sake, just get me a latte and make it quick.” The man orders and slams a five pound note on the counter.

Eloise doesn’t lose her stride or her cool. She only nods and repeats the order to the other girl behind the counter, who gets to work making the drink.

The man steps to the side to wait for his beverage as Eloise serves the next customer, who seems a lot nicer than that arsehole male.

I wait patiently, keeping an eye on her exchanges with each customer as she switches between taking orders and making drinks. The girls in the front dash between clearing tables and helping behind the counter.

There’s no routine. This place is a mad house. I know they’re doing the best they can, but this is just ridiculous. They either need a better routine or more staff.

“This is fucking disgusting!” The same angry guy from moments ago shouts and slams his takeaway cup down on the counter, causing the bottom to crumple and the contents to spill across the desk. “Make me a new one!”

“Piss off somewhere else then. I’m not making you another one. There’s nothing wrong with that one!” She just reached her edge. I watch as her face reddens and her hands tremble with anger.

“I’m a paying customer. You can’t talk to me like that.”

“I can and I will, seeing as that’s how you’re talking to me. Get the hell out.”

Oh dear. This is escalating quickly.

The man turns as red as his angry opponent. I see his hand reach for the cup and my mouth slowly falls open as he swings his arm back and throws the paper cup directly at Eloise’s face. The cup, still containing liquid, cracks her on the forehead and crumples further. The contents explode down her nose and cheeks, before the cup bounces away and tumbles to the ground.

I’m not entirely sure what happens next. All I know is that I have the man by the lapels of his jacket as another customer grabs his arms. Together we drag him through the door and throw him forward. He tumbles over the bonnet of my car, cursing and spitting profanities when he hits the unforgiving concrete.

“You fucking coward, throwing a hot drink in a young girl’s face!” My ally shouts and nails the grounded man with a kick to the ribs. The man lets out a yelp and shudders, before scrambling to his feet gripping his side. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Fuck you!” Our enemy wheezes and uses my bonnet to lean on.

I control myself, wanting more than anything to smash his pudgy face into something. “Get out of here and don’t come back.”

“I’ll wipe the floor with you if you ever do, you fat balding Muppet.” My ally threatens, pointing his finger at the man as he staggers away.

I don’t wait another second to thank the man for his help; I merely turn and race back into the store. Eloise isn’t there and fortunately the customers left behind seem to be helping the young girls clear the tables.

I see that the other baristas are clearly shaken, but they aren’t my concern right now.

“Where is she?” I ask the one behind the counter as she cleans the worktops down.

She gives me a curious look before pointing at the door on the side wall that reads ‘staff only.’ I nod and push it open, revealing a tidy looking room with aprons and coats hanging along the wall. Pictures and certificates line the rest and a comfy looking couch sits near a small TV. There’s no Eloise in sight.

Eloise

Tears fall freely as I bury my now cool face into my bent knees and hug my legs tightly with my arms. I can’t stop the sob that rises through my shaking chest and tightening throat.

My sticky hair clings to my temples, but I don’t care. I just want to go home and curl up under my bed with my blanket.

My lips sting, but I know they aren’t badly burned. The pain isn’t welcome. I hate pain. I’m a baby when it comes to pain, but I don’t want to move. I feel safe right now.

I can’t remember the last time I was that scared.

He threw coffee at me!

Another sob rips through me and more tears dampen my knees. Who cares? I’m drenched anyway. My white top is ruined and my stress level is unbearable.

I can’t do this anymore.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

There’s a light knock at the door.

“Go away,” I demand, wishing I could just disappear.

The knock is more aggressive this time.

“Are you deaf?” I cry, gripping my legs even tighter. “I said go away!”

The door opens with a creak, but I don’t bother looking up. Why would anybody want to see me like this? Can’t they tell that I don’t want them here? I bet its Hollie. She’s too nice for her own good.

“Go away,” I plead, my voice quiet and sounding as defeated as I feel inside.

“Eloise.”

My entire body tenses when I hear his voice. What is he doing here? I can’t handle this. “Don’t, I’m embarrassed enough without you seeing me like this.”

I feel his warm hands on my wrists and I can’t find the energy to fight, so I let him pull them away from my legs. He keeps a hold of my limp wrists, standing and pulling me to my feet.

“You look sticky,” he comments as my eyes open and meet his. I only see concern in his, but his presence alone is making me nervous. It’s not because he shouldn’t be in the bathroom alone with me, but because I’m too humiliated to describe and the need to burst into tears again is overwhelming.

I can’t hold it back. A hiccup pushes through the lump in my throat and my body deteriorates in a second. I almost crumble to the ground as tears and sobs overwhelm me. My hands hide my face as warm arms come around me and pull me into an even warmer chest.

His comfort is intense. I feel it seep through my skin and bones, but I don’t want it. I don’t need it. “Stop. Don’t hug me. I can’t take it.” I push away, but his arms hold me tighter.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” He whispers and presses his cheek to my forehead. “Are you hurt?”

“Only my ego,” I respond, my body tense as my tears finally subside and my mini meltdown settles. “I’m going to get your shirt dirty.”

“I don’t care. Are you sure you’re not hurt?” He pulls back, his eyes scanning my mess of a face and body for any sign of injury. “You didn’t strain yourself, did you?”

I shake my head and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. We both wince when I pull away and see the black smudge of mascara across my wrist.

My hand trembles as I stare at it and the reality of what just happened hits me again. My lip quivers and my teeth bite down on my tongue. “He just threw a hot drink at me…. At my face… who does that?”

Mr Price pulls back and his warm, kind eyes that hide no small amount of controlled anger stare into mine for a seemingly long moment. “I know. That was… it’s beyond words. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

I focus, calming my breath with a few shallow intakes and exhales. This gives me a brief moment of clarity, in which I can fully assess whether or not any part of my face or body hurts. “My lips sting, but I’m okay.”

His finger and thumb grip my chin. My lip trembles again, this time at the heat and gentleness of his touch rather than my need to cry. He turns my face to the left and then to the right before smoothing the back of his forefinger over my nose. The motion makes me go cross eyed for a second, making him smile. “You’ll have a small bruise on your nose, but it shouldn’t give you too much pain.” I don’t say anything. I can’t remember the last time somebody was so gentle and caring with me. “Wash your face; I’ll wait for you out there.”

I nod but then a thought comes to mind. “What are you doing here, Mr Price?”

“I was stopping in for lunch, seeing as my student didn’t show up for her lunchtime lesson.”

My heart stops and my mouth falls open. “I… I’m so sorry… I should have called. I totally forg…”

He holds up his finger and leads me by my shoulders to the sink. “I know. It’s okay. You can make it up on Monday.”

A warm feeling of relief slides through me and my entire body relaxes as I stare at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. “Thank you.”

“I’ll wait for you in the staff room.” And he leaves, closing the door behind him.

I can’t believe I just had a meltdown. I can’t remember ever having a meltdown in front of anybody, let alone a teacher.

My fingers tremble as I turn on the taps and cup my hands beneath the warm flow of water. I scrub my face vigorously, not caring about washing away the makeup. It only seems to be on my cheeks and around my eye lids now anyway.

My teacher just hugged me.

I want to crawl into a hole and die, but I know the girls need me out there, plus there are no windows in this room, so unless I want to stay in here all day, I have to leave eventually.

After giving myself a mental pep talk, I finally open the door, tugging on my clothing in an attempt to smooth it down as I go. Not that it does much good; it’s cold from the damp coffee it absorbed not long ago. A hot shower is sorely needed.

“Do you have any spare clothes?” Mr Price asks the second I step into the light.

I shake my head and keep my eyes averted from his. “Crystal is late. She was supposed to be back at eleven thirty so I’d have time to go home and get changed before meeting you.”