Not Yet (16 page)

I put both hands on his desk and leaned into his
face. The entire room had turned around to watch me in the back
row. Looking him dead in the eye, I narrowed my gaze. “Try me,
Dean. Try me, and you’ll be sitting in this same desk next year
with all the juniors wondering why big man Dean couldn’t get a
passing grade from the new teacher.” I held his gaze as he smiled
saucily, and his classmates hollered their approval of my retort. I
only leaned back from our standoff when the blessed bell rang.

As the students left the room, I walked back to my
desk, shaking, and I felt that familiar touch on my shoulder. “Em,
look at me.”

I whipped around, knocking his hand off my shoulder.
“Get your hands off me,” I whispered angrily. “And don’t you call
me Emma. It’s Ms. Harris to you—and don’t you ever touch a teacher
again.” I glared at him and fought off the urge to slap his lying
face.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea this was your job. This
was what I needed to talk to you about tonight.” He crouched in
front of me, trying to make eye contact as I backed up, focused on
the floor.

“I can’t believe this,” I spoke quietly, through
clenched teeth, doing anything I could to keep my anger in check.
“My first job. My first job is to teach your underage ass.
Unbelievable. God, you know I could be fired, lose my
certification. Oh My God! This could ruin my family!”

“I need to explain, I…” My next freshmen class poured
into the room, chatting and laughing.

“I need nothing from you. Get out. Now.” I glared at
him and he turned and stormed out as I took deep breaths and
focused on my next class of students.

I knew what I had to do. A lying scumbag was
threatening to turn my world upside down. I had to immediately
revert back to the person I knew best. Defenses and walls had to go
up for immediate self-protection. The Ice Queen, bitch, angry
shrew, was back with a roar. Welcome, my old friend. Can’t say I’m
glad to see you, but I sure do need you right now.

What was that I was saying about boys changing and
hearts changing?

And hearts need to be strong enough to overcome
it.

***

I ENTERED THE faculty lounge quietly and stared
at my lunch. I contemplated using the brown paper bag that my food
was packed in as a breathing device to keep me from
hyperventilating. It was a miracle I made it through that last
class. I couldn’t believe he lied to me. I thought I was falling in
love with him. This, this is why I never trusted men before… they
always let you down.

Every.
Fucking
. Time.

I spent my summer making out with a high school
senior, who I now had to teach for the remainder of the year. Yup,
I was right all along—guys suck…especially the pretty ones.

“How’s it going so far, Emma?” Samantha sat next to
me and began to eat. I was so out of it I hardly even knew she was
there.

“I really like my freshmen history classes. Those
kids seem as nervous as I am to start school. But the senior econ
classes… Well, they looked like they wanted to eat me alive.” I
stared at my turkey and provolone sandwich, unable to eat.

“Let me see your roster. I teach all juniors, so I’m
sure I know every one of those clowns.” I handed her my roster as
she read through my third period class. Her head jerked up and she
sighed. Not a fond, “I miss these kids” sigh, but a sigh when
someone was drafted to go to war and you didn’t know what else to
say.

“Shit, Emma. This is the worst class of seniors ever.
It is almost all football players and cheerleaders. And I’m not
even sure who is worse. The football pricks think they run the
school, and the cheerleaders are just catty bitches. The boys will
only try and embarrass you, but the girls will be out for
blood.”

“Jesus, am I teaching kids or zoo animals?” I stared
at her as she gave me her best ‘duh!’ look.

“Did you really just ask me that? This is small town
Indiana, and you’re not so far removed that you forget how this
works. Football and cheerleading are all that matters to them.
You’re on their turf now, and they’re not the kind that plays well
with others.” She grabbed a pen and circled some names on the
roster. “The worst culprit of all in your class is Dean Goldsmith.
He’s the quarterback and therefore believes he’s entitled to rule
the school… Basically he’s a royal asshole. You have to come down
on him hard and fast. Next worst is absolutely Landon
Washington.”

My eyes widened before I could control my reaction. I
knew he lied to me, but Landon was a good person. The way he
treated Trevor and Evie; you couldn’t fake that. What had I
missed?

She continued talking in between bites of her peanut
butter sandwich. “Landon is a smart mouth and a player. He thinks
he is king around here since all the girls worship him. He’s always
stringing one of the cheerleaders along with his cocky attitude and
great looks. The worst part is, he’s really smart. You’d never know
it from his piss-poor attitude, but he’s very intelligent. He just
seems to apply his brains in all the wrong way. I actually think
he’s thrown some tests so he’d get a B instead of an A. I think he
thinks he’ll be treated differently if he’s both a jock and smart.
So, he chose jock.”

Sam took a long drink of water and chuckled quietly
to herself. I must have looked at her questioningly because she
stopped and shrugged. “Sorry. It really isn’t funny, especially
since my husband is the coach of the Lions, but I keep thinking of
the prank Landon organized during the last home game of the
season.”

“He’d dated a cheerleader last year who was a senior
and captain of the squad. He must have distracted her well enough
that his crew of guys were able to scramble the letters for their
pyramid cheer at halftime.” Samantha snorted at the memory, and I
shut my eyes, picturing Landon’s distraction techniques and their
proven effectiveness on me and my all too willing body.

“The girls had planned to hold up letters to spell
out—‘FIGHT THE BUCKEYES! GO! WIN!’—Well, the letters they held up
to face the halftime crowd had been rearranged and spelled—‘WE FUCK
THE BIG ONES!’—it’s so wrong, I know, but it was hilarious!”
Samantha guffawed at her description so long her eyes watered.

“Oh, his girlfriend was pissed because she was in
charge of the letters and the squad. Everyone knew it was Landon’s
doing, but there was no proof, so he got off with no sanctions at
all. Although, Tommy did force him to run hills every weekend until
summer. But even Tommy thought it was brilliant.”

Freaking fabulous. I was as bright as a high school
cheerleader. I let myself be played all summer by the charmer,
Landon. I wanted to beat my head against the wall, repeatedly.

“The thing with Landon is,” Samantha continued on,
oblivious to my tortured state, “I think this is all a rouse—you
know, jokes on us—because he really is a brain who hides it because
he doesn’t want to be held to any expectations. He just wants to
play ball.” I thought about what Landon told me his father valued.
It wasn’t studying and it wasn’t grades—it was the sport of
football. The only way for his father to give him any attention was
through the sport. Nothing else mattered.

Samantha gathered her trash and pointed to a few more
names on my roster as she stood up to leave. “Their comrades are
Jon Roberts and Ricardo “Ricky” Martinez. All four are football
players who pick on younger students, date as many girls as
possible, and generally cause problems for everyone. I am telling
you, Emma, don’t take any shit from them. They hunt in packs, and
if they smell blood, they will attack.”

I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe. Listening
to her terrifying warnings about my third period class was bad
enough, but hearing what she said about Landon? He was someone who
had become my friend—hell, way more than just my friend and was
someone who I had trusted. Hearing her say that he was out to get
me, well I just couldn’t get any more outraged or disappointed. I
rubbed at my temples for relief from my growing headache. What I
would give for a big, strong alcoholic beverage right now.

Samantha patted my shoulder in commiseration and
finished her speech of impending doom. “The worst of the girls are
Stephanie Romley and Cammie Gorsuch. They enjoy starting rumors,
making fun of other girls, and doing ANYTHING to make
those
boys like them. You need to hold graduation over their heads. They
all have to pass econ to graduate in May. You are important to them
for that reason alone. Use this as your tool.”

As she spoke about the girls, it dawned on me that
they were the giggly blonds in short sundresses who visited Landon
at the pool this summer. I started to tremble, racking my brain to
recall if they had any interaction with me. Those types of girls
would love nothing more than to break it to the school that Landon
and I worked together, and more, over the summer.

Shaking my head to focus my attention back on Sam,
she continued to offer me advice about my seniors. “If all else
fails, go visit my husband Tommy during football practice. Tell him
what is going on, and he will run their sorry asses ragged. I mean
it. Works for me every time.”

I nodded, feeling sick to my stomach. Not only was I
a poor judge of age and character, but I chose to mess around with
one of the most notorious guys in the school, whom I was sure had
bragged about his conquests with the new young teacher. This day
just couldn’t get any worse. It was my first, and, possibly, my
last day of teaching. It was surely a day I would never forget.

I finished as much lunch as I could stomach and
headed back to my classroom. As I rested, with my forehead laid
flat on my desk, there was a light knock on the door.

“Yes,” I called not raising my head from the cool
surface.

“Miss… Miss… Harris? I’m Amy. A senior.” A lovely
round face, with big blue eyes, pink wire rimmed glasses, and a
short blond bob was staring at me. She was on the heavier side, but
she looked sweet wearing a white polo shirt and a khaki skirt with
white Velcro gym shoes. “I want to be your teacher aide. In my free
period? Ms. Baynes said to ask you. Need help?”

I picked my head up and smiled at her. “Thank you,
Amy. It’s so nice to meet you. I don’t really know what I am doing
yet, so I can use all the help I can get. Maybe you can do some
photo copying and help me get settled? Would that be all right with
you?”

“Really? Thanks! Mom came to school with me this
summer. Showed me how to use a copier. I know how to work it.”

I signed her permission slip to be my aide and agreed
to meet again with her during last period. As she walked away, I
figured other teachers may have passed on her help because she was
born with Down syndrome.

For someone like me, seeing a person with
disabilities instantly calmed my nerves. I knew I wasn’t being
judged or tested. I was free to be myself and I would be accepted.
Amy would be as loyal and kind as they came. And I needed all the
damn help I could get right now.

Amy stopped at my door and turned around. I had
placed my cheek back on my desk with my head turned sideways,
facing the entryway.

“Miss Harris? There are a lot of dickheads in this
place. First days are tough. I know. It’ll be okay.”

Amy swiveled around and left the room without another
word. A smile crept onto my face even as the tears formed in the
back of my eyes.