6.
the honeymoon
LAKE SMILES, THINKING back on how blissfully happy we both were after that date. “I had never had a night like that in my life,” she says. “Everything about it was perfect, from beginning to end. Even the grilled cheese.”
“Everything except the fact that I failed to mention my occupation.”
She frowns. “Well, yeah. That part sucked.”
I laugh. “Sucked is an understatement for how I felt in that hallway,” I say. “But, we got through it. As tough as it was, look at us now.”
“Wait,” she says, pressing her fingers to my lips. “Don’t jump ahead. Start from where you left off. I want to know what you were thinking when you saw me in the hallway that day. My god, you were so pissed at me,” she says.
“Pissed at you? Lake, you thought I was mad at you?”
She shrugs.
“No, babe. I was anything but pissed at you.”
oh, shit
MY THREE-DAY WEEKEND. What can I say about my three-day weekend other than it was the longest, most treacherous three days of my entire life. I was distracted the entire time thinking about her. I could have kicked myself for not getting her phone number before I left; at least we could have texted. My grandfather apparently noticed the difference in my attention span during the course of the visit. Before we left their house last night, he pulled me aside and said, “So? Who is she?”
Of course I played dumb and denied having met someone. What would he think if he knew I went on one date with this girl, and she already had me in a stupor? He laughed when I denied it and he squeezed my shoulder. “Can’t wait to meet her,” he said.
I usually dread Monday mornings, but there’s a different air about today. Probably because I know I’ll get to see her after work today. I slide the note under the windshield wiper of her Jeep, then head back across the street to my car. As soon as I place my fingers on the door handle, I have second thoughts. I’m being way too forward. Who says, “I can’t wait to see you” in a note after one date? The last thing I want to do is scare her off. I walk back to her Jeep and lift the wiper blade to remove the note from her windshield.
“Leave it.”
I spin around and Julia is standing in their entryway, holding a cup of coffee between her hands. I look down at the note, then back at the Jeep, then back at Julia, not really knowing what to say.
“You should leave it,” she says, pointing to the note in my hand. “She’ll like it.” She smiles and heads back into the house, leaving me completely and utterly embarrassed in her driveway. I place the note back under the windshield wiper and make my way back across the street, hoping Julia is right.
“I TOLD YOU last week he was coming,” Mrs. Alex says in a defensive tone of voice.
“No, you said he called about coming. You never told me it was today.”
She turns to her computer and begins typing. “Well, I’m telling you now. He’ll be here at eleven o’clock to observe your fourth-period class.” She reaches to her printer and removes a freshly printed form. “And you’ll have a new student in your next class. I just registered her this morning. Here’s her information.” She hands me the form and smiles. I roll my eyes and shove the form into my satchel, suddenly dreading the remainder of the day.
I walk in a hurry to third period considering I’m already five minutes late. I look down at my watch and groan. An eleven o’clock observation? That’s just an hour from now. All I have scheduled for my classes today are section tests. I wasn’t prepared to lecture at all, much less in front of my faculty advisor. I’ll just have to use this period to prepare something last-minute.
God, could this day get any worse?
When I round the corner to Hall D, the day somehow gets one hundred percent better as soon as I lay eyes on her.
“Lake?”
She’s got her hands in her hair, pulling it up into a knot again. She spins around and her eyes widen when she sees me. She pulls a sheet of paper from between her lips and smiles, then immediately wraps her arms around my neck.
“Will! What are you doing here?”
I return her hug, but the sheet of paper that just flashed in front of my face has left my entire body feeling like an immobile solid block of concrete.
She’s holding a schedule.
I suddenly can’t breathe.
She’s holding a class schedule.
This can’t be good.
Mrs. Alex said something about enrolling a new student.
Oh, shit.
Holy shit.
I immediately begin to internally panic. I wrap my fingers around her wrists and pull her arms away from my neck before someone sees us. Please let me be wrong. Please.
“Lake,” I say, shaking my head—trying to make sense of this. “Where . . . what are you doing here?”
She lets out a frustrated sigh and thrusts the schedule into my chest. “I’m trying to find this stupid elective but I’m lost,” she whines. “Help me!”
Oh, shit. What the hell have I done?
I take a step back against the wall, attempting to give myself space to think. Space to breathe.
“Lake, no . . .” I say. I hand her back the schedule without even looking at it. There’s no need to look at it. I know exactly where her “stupid elective” is. I can’t seem to process a coherent thought while looking at her, so I turn around and clasp my hands behind my head.
She’s a student?
I’m her teacher?
Oh, shit.
I close my eyes and think back to the past week. Who have I told? Who saw us together? Gavin. Shit. There’s no telling who else may have been at Club N9NE. And Lake! She’s about to figure this out any second. What if she thinks I was trying to hide this from her? She could go straight to administration and end my career.
As soon as the thought crosses my mind, she picks up her backpack and begins to storm off. I reach out and pull her to a stop. “Where are you going?” It’s obvious she’s pissed and I hope her intentions aren’t to report me.
She rolls her eyes and sighs. “I get it, Will,” she says. “I get it. I’ll leave you alone before your girlfriend sees us.” She pulls her arm out of my grasp and turns away from me.
“Girlfr—no. No, Lake. I don’t think you do get it.” I wait for her to process what’s happening. I would just come out and say it, but I can’t. I don’t think I could say it out loud if I wanted to.
The sound of footsteps closing in on us diverts her attention away from me. Javier suddenly rounds the corner and comes to a quick stop when he sees me in the hallway.
“Oh, man, I thought I was late,” he says.
If Lake hasn’t figured it all out by now, she’s about to.
“You are late, Javier,” I reply. I open the door to my classroom and wave him inside. “Javi, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Let the class know they have five minutes to review before the exam.” I slowly close the door behind me and look down at the floor. I can’t look at her. I don’t think my heart can take what she’s about to feel. There’s a brief moment of silence before she quietly gasps. I raise my eyes to hers and the disappointment on her face tears my heart in two. She gets it now.
“Will,” she whispers painfully. “Please don’t tell me . . .”
Her voice is weak and she tilts her head slightly to the side, slowly shaking her head back and forth. She isn’t angry. She’s hurt. I’d almost rather her be pissed right now than feel the way she’s feeling. I look up at the ceiling and rub my hands over my face in an attempt not to punch the damn wall. How could I be so stupid? Why wasn’t my profession the first thing I thought to share with her? Why did I not see this as a possibility? I continue to pace, hoping beyond all hope that I’m the one not getting it. When I reach the lockers in front of me, I tap my head against them, silently cursing myself. I’ve really screwed it up this time. For both of us. I drop my hands and reluctantly roll around to face her.
“How did I not see this? You’re still in high school?”
She backs up to the wall behind her and leans against it for support. “Me?” she says in defense. “How did the fact that you’re a teacher not come up? How are you a teacher? You’re only twenty-one.”
I realize I’m going to have to answer a lot of her questions. My teaching situation isn’t particularly normal, so I understand her confusion. But we can’t do this here. Not right now.
“Layken, listen.” I realize when her name falls off my tongue that I didn’t call her “Lake.” I guess that’s probably best at this point. “There has apparently been a huge misunderstanding between the two of us.” I look away from her when I finish my sentence. An overwhelming feeling of guilt overcomes me when I look into her eyes, so I just don’t. “We need to talk about this, but now is definitely not the right time.”
“I agree,” she whispers. It sounds like she’s attempting not to cry. I couldn’t take it if she cried.
The door to my classroom opens and Eddie walks out into the hall, looking directly at Lake. “Layken, I was just coming to look for you,” she says. “I saved you a seat.” She looks at me, then back at Lake, leaving no traces or hint that she’s put two and two together. Good. That just leaves Gavin to contend with. “Oh, sorry, Mr. Cooper. I didn’t know you were out here.”
I stand straight and walk toward the classroom door. “It’s fine, Eddie. I was just going over Layken’s schedule with her.” I pull the door open wider and wait for Lake and Eddie to make their way into the room. I’m thankful it’s a test day. There’s no way I would be able to lecture right now.
“Who’s the hottie?” Javier asks when Lake slides into her seat.
“Shut it, Javi!” I snap. I am so not in the mood for his smart-ass comments right now. I reach over and grab the stack of tests.
“Chill out, Mr. Cooper. I was paying her a compliment.” He leans back in his chair and gives Lake a slow, full-body glance that makes my blood boil. “She’s hot. Look at her.”
I point to the classroom door. “Javi, get out!”
He snaps his focus back to me. “Mr. Cooper! Jeez! What’s with the temp? Like I said, I was just . . .”
“Like I said, get out! You will not disrespect women in my classroom!”
He snatches his books off his desk. “Fine. I’ll go disrespect them in the hallway!”
After the door shuts behind him, I cringe at my own behavior. I’ve never lost my temper in a classroom before. I look back at the students and everyone is watching Lake, waiting on some sort of reaction from her. Everyone except Gavin. His eyes are burrowing a hole right through me. I give him a slight nod, letting him know that I acknowledge the fact that we obviously have a lot to discuss. For right now, though, it’s back to the task at hand.
“Class, we have a new student. This is Layken Cohen,” I say, quickly wanting to brush what just happened under the rug. “Review is over. Put up your notes.”
“You’re not going to have her introduce herself?” Eddie asks.
“We’ll get to that another time,” I say, holding up the papers. “Tests.”
I begin passing out the tests. When I reach Gavin’s desk, he looks up at me inquisitively. “Lunch,” I whisper, letting him know I’ll explain everything then. He nods and takes his test, finally breaking eye contact.
When I pass out all but one of the tests, I reluctantly walk closer to her desk. “Lake,” I say. I quickly clear my throat and correct myself. “Layken, if you have something else to work on, feel free. The class is completing a chapter test.”
She straightens up in her desk and looks down at her hands. “I’d rather just take the test,” she says quietly. I place the paper on her desk, then make my way back to my seat.
I spend the rest of the hour grading papers from the first two classes. I occasionally catch myself peeking in her direction, trying hard not to stare. She just keeps erasing and rewriting answers over and over. I don’t know why she chose to take the test; she hasn’t been here for any of the lectures. I break my gaze from her paper and look up. Gavin is glaring at me again, so I dart my eyes down at my watch right when the dismissal bell rings. Everyone quickly files to the front of the room and places their papers on my desk.
“Hey, did you get your lunch switched?” Eddie asks Lake.
I watch as Eddie and Lake converse about her schedule and I’m secretly relieved that Lake has already found a friend. I’m not so sure I like that it’s Eddie, though. I don’t have a problem with Eddie. It’s just that Gavin knows way too much now and I’m not sure if he would tell Eddie or not. I hope not. I glance back down to my desk as soon as Eddie begins to walk away from Lake. Rather than exiting the classroom, she heads straight to my desk. I look up at her and she removes something from her purse. She shakes a few mints into her hand and lays them on my desk.
“Altoids,” she says. “I’m just making assumptions here, but I’ve heard Altoids work wonders on hangovers.” She pushes the mints toward me and walks away.
I stare at the mints, unnerved that she assumed I have a hangover. I must not be as good at hiding my emotions as I thought I was. I’m disappointed in myself. Disappointed I lost my temper, disappointed I didn’t use my head when it came to the whole situation with Lake, disappointed that I now have this huge dilemma facing me. I’m still staring at the mints when Lake walks to the desk and places her paper on top of the pile.
“Is my mood that obvious?” I say rhetorically. She takes two of the mints and walks out of the room without saying a word. I sigh and lean back in the chair, kicking my feet up on the desk. This is by far the second-worst day of my life.
“I can’t wait that long, man.” Gavin walks back into the room and closes the door behind him. He throws his backpack on the desk in front of me, then scoots it closer and climbs into it. “What the hell, Will? What were you thinking?”
I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. I’m not ready to talk about this right now, but I do owe him an explanation. I bring my feet down from the desk and rest my head in my hands, rubbing my temples with my fingers. “We didn’t know.”
Gavin laughs incredulously. “Didn’t know? How the hell could you not know?”
I close my eyes and sigh. He’s right. How did we not know? “I don’t know. It just . . . it never came up,” I say. “I was out of town all weekend. We haven’t spoken since our date Thursday. It just . . . somehow it never came up.” I shake my head, sorting through my thoughts as they’re flowing from my lips. I’m a jumbled mess.
“So you just found out she’s a student? Like, just now?”
I nod.
“You didn’t have sex with her, did you?”
His question takes a moment to register. He takes my silence as an admission of guilt and he leans forward and whispers, “You had sex with her, didn’t you? You’re gonna get fired, man.”
“No, I didn’t have sex with her!” I snap.
He continues to glare at me, attempting to analyze my demeanor. “Then why are you so upset? If you didn’t have sex with her, you can’t really get in trouble. I doubt she’ll report it if all you did was kiss her. Is that what you’re worried about? That she’ll report you?”
I shake my head, because that’s not at all what I’m worried about. I could see in Lake’s demeanor that the thought of reporting me never even crossed her mind. She was upset, but not with me.
“No. No, I know she won’t say anything. It’s just . . .” I run my hand across my forehead and sigh. I have no idea how to handle this. No idea. “Shit,” I say, exasperated. “I just need to think, Gavin.”
I run my fingers through my hair and clasp my hands behind my head. I don’t think I’ve ever been this confused and overwhelmed in my life. Everything I’ve worked for could possibly be going to hell today simply because of my stupidity. I’ve got three months left until graduation, and there’s a good chance if this gets out, I’ve just ruined my entire career.
What confuses me though is the fact that it’s not my career that has me in a jumbled mess right now. It’s her. These emotions are a direct result of her. The main reason why I’m so upset right now is that it feels like I somehow just broke her heart.
“Oh,” Gavin says quietly. “Shit.”
I look up at him, confused by his reaction. “What?”
He stands up and points to me. “You like her,” he says. “That’s why you’re so upset. You already fell for her, didn’t you?” He grabs his backpack and starts walking backward toward the door, shaking his head. I don’t even bother denying it. He saw the way I was looking at her the other night.
When the classroom door opens and several students begin to file in, he walks back to my desk and whispers, “Eddie doesn’t know anything. I didn’t recognize anyone else at the slam, so don’t worry about that part of it. You just need to figure out what you need to do.” He turns toward the classroom door and exits . . . just as my faculty advisor enters.
Shit!
IF THERE’S ONE thing I’ve learned how to do well in my life, it’s adapt.
I somehow made it through the observation unscathed and somehow made it to the end of last period without bashing my fists into a wall. Whether or not I’ll make it through the rest of the day just knowing I’m right across the street from her is still up in the air.
When Caulder and I pull into the driveway, she’s sitting in her Jeep. She’s got her arm over her eyes and it looks like she’s crying.
“Can I go to Kel’s?” Caulder asks when he climbs out of the car.
I nod. I leave my things in the car and shut my door, then slowly make my way across the street. When I reach the back of her car, I pause to gather my thoughts. I know what needs to be done, but knowing something and accepting it are two completely different things. I asked myself over and over today what my parents would have done in this situation. What would most people do in this situation? Of course, the answer is obviously to do the right thing. The responsible thing. I mean, we went on one date. Who would quit a job over one date?
This shouldn’t be this hard. Why is this so hard?
I walk closer and lightly tap on her passenger window. She jerks up and flips the visor down and looks in the mirror, attempting to wipe away traces of her heartache. When the door unlocks, I open it and take a seat. I shut the door behind me and adjust the seat, then prop my foot on the dash. My gaze falls to the note that I left under her wiper this morning. It’s unfolded, lying on her console. When I wrote the words, see you at four o’clock, this isn’t how I envisioned four o’clock at all. I glance up at her and she’s avoiding looking at me. Just seeing her causes my words to catch in my throat. I have no idea what to say. I have no idea where her head is right now.
“What are you thinking?” I finally ask.
She slowly turns toward me and pulls her leg up into the seat. She wraps her arms around it and rests her chin on top of her knee. I’ve never wanted to be a knee so bad in my entire life.
“I’m confused as hell, Will. I don’t know what to think.”
Honestly, I don’t know what to think, either. God, I’m such an a*shole. How could I have let this happen? I sigh and look out the passenger window. I can’t for the life of me hold my composure if I keep looking into those eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “This is all my fault.”
“It’s nobody’s fault,” she says. “In order for there to be fault, there has to be some sort of conscious decision. You didn’t know, Will.”
I didn’t know. But it’s my own damn fault that I didn’t know.
“That’s just it, Lake,” I say, turning to face her. “I should have known. I’m in an occupation that doesn’t just require ethics inside the classroom; they apply to all aspects of my life. I wasn’t aware because I wasn’t doing my job. When you told me you were eighteen, I just assumed you were in college.”
She looks away and whispers, “I’ve only been eighteen for two weeks.”
That sentence. If that sentence could have just been spoken a few days ago, this entire situation would have been avoided. Why the hell didn’t I just ask her when her birthday was? I close my eyes and rest my head against the seat, preparing to explain my unique situation to her. I want her to have a better understanding of why this can’t work between us.
“I student teach,” I say. “Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“After my parents died, I doubled up on all my classes. I have enough credits to graduate a semester early. Since the school was so shorthanded, they offered me a one-year contract. I have three months left of student teaching. After that I’m under contract through June of next year.” I look over at her and her eyes are closed. She’s shaking her head ever so slightly like she doesn’t comprehend what I’m saying, or she just doesn’t want to hear it.
“Lake, I need this job. It’s what I’ve been working toward for three years. We’re broke. My parents left me with a mound of debt and now college tuition. I can’t quit now.”
She darts her eyes toward me, almost like I’ve insulted her.
“Will, I understand. I’d never ask you to jeopardize your career. You’ve worked hard. It would be stupid if you threw that away for someone you’ve only known for three days.”
Oh, but I would. If you would just ask me to . . . I would.
“I’m not saying you would ask me that. I just want you to understand where I’m coming from.”
“I do understand,” she says. “It’s ridiculous to assume we even have anything worth risking.”
She can deny it all she wants, but whatever it is that I’m feeling, I know she’s feeling it, too. I can see it in her eyes. “We both know it’s more than that.”
As soon as the words leave my lips, I immediately regret them. This girl is my student. S-T-U-D-E-N-T! I’ve got to get this through my head.
We’re both silent. The lack of conversation only invites the emotions we’ve been trying to suppress. She begins to cry, and despite the fact that my conscience is screaming at me, I can’t help but console her. I pull her to me and she buries her face in my shirt. I want so bad to push the thought out of my head that this is the last time I’m going to hold her like this—but I know it’s true. I know once we separate, it’s over. There’s no way I can continue to be around her with the way she consumes my every thought. I know, deep down, that this is good-bye.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper into her hair. “I wish there was something I could do to change things. I have to do this right for Caulder. I’m not sure where we go from here, or how we’ll transition.”
“Transition?” she says. She brings her eyes to meet mine and they’re full of panic. “But—what if you talk to the school? Tell them we didn’t know. Ask them what our options are.”
She doesn’t realize it, but that’s all I’ve been trying to figure out for the last five hours. I’ve been thinking of any and all possible scenarios to change the outcome for us. There just isn’t one.
“I can’t, Lake. It won’t work. It can’t work.”
She pulls apart from me when Kel and Caulder come out of her house. I reluctantly release my hold from around her, knowing it’s the last time I’ll hold her. This is more than likely the last time we’ll have a conversation outside school. In order for me to do the right thing, I know that letting her go completely is the only way. I need to distance myself from her.
“Layken?” I say hesitantly. “There’s one more thing I need to talk to you about.”
She rolls her eyes like she knows it’s something bad. She doesn’t respond, though. She just waits for me to continue.
“I need you to go to administration tomorrow. I want you to withdraw from my class. I don’t think we should be around each other anymore.”
“Why?” she says, turning to face me. The hurt in her voice is exactly what I was afraid I would hear.
“I’m not asking you to do this because I want to avoid you. I’m asking you this because what we have isn’t appropriate. We have to separate ourselves.”
The hurt in her eyes is replaced by a look of incredulity. “Not appropriate?” she says, disbelievingly. “Separate ourselves? You live across the street from me!”
The hurt in her voice, the anger in her expression, the heartache in her eyes; it’s too much. Seeing her hurt like this and not being able to console her is unbearable. If I don’t get out of this car right now, my hands will be tangled in her hair and my lips will be meshed with hers in a matter of seconds. I swing open the door and get out.
I just need to breathe.
She opens her door, too, and looks at me over the hood of her car. “We’re both mature enough to know what’s appropriate, Will. You’re the only person I know here. Please don’t ask me to act like I don’t even know you,” she pleads.
“Come on, Lake. You aren’t being fair. I can’t do this. We can’t just be friends. It’s the only choice we have.”
She has no idea how close I came to not being her friend just now. There’s no possible way I can be around this girl and continue to do the right thing. I’m not that strong.
She opens her car door and reaches inside to grab her things. “So, you’re saying it’s either all or nothing, right? And since it obviously can’t be all!” She slams the door and walks toward her house. She stops short and kicks over the gnome with the broken red hat. “You’ll be rid of me by third period tomorrow!” She slams her front door, leaving me a heartbroken, emotional wreck in her driveway.
The last thing I wanted out of this was to upset her even more. I pound my fists against the top of her Jeep, pissed at myself for putting her in this situation to begin with. “Dammit!” I yell. I spin and turn to head home, but instead come face to face with Kel and Caulder. They’re both staring at me, wide-eyed.
“Why are you so mad at Layken?” Kel asks. “Are you not gonna be her boyfriend?”
I glance back to Lake’s house and clasp my hands behind my head. “I’m not mad at her, Kel. I’m just—I’m mad at myself.” I drop my arms and turn back around to head home. They step apart as I pass between them. I hear them following me when I retrieve my things from my car. I’m still being followed when I walk inside and set the box down on the bar, so I turn around and look at the boys.
“What?” I say with a clear amount of annoyance. They both look at each other, then back at me.
“Um. We just wanted to ask you something,” Caulder says nervously. He slides into one of the bar stools and rests his chin in his hand. “Maya said if Layken becomes your girlfriend and you marry her, me and Kel will be brothers of law.”
Both boys are looking at me with hopeful expressions.
“It’s brothers-in-law, and Layken’s not going to be my girlfriend,” I say. “We’re just friends.”
Kel steps around me and climbs into the other seat at the bar. “She burped too much, didn’t she? Or did she leave her bra in your car? I bet she wouldn’t let you have coffee, would she?”
I force a fake smile and step toward the stack of papers. “You nailed it,” I say. “It was the coffee. She’s so stingy.”
Kel shakes his head. “I knew it.”
“Well,” Caulder says. “You could try going on another date to see if you like her better. Me and Kel want to be brothers.”
“Layken and I aren’t going on another date. We’re just friends.” I glance at both of them with a serious expression. “Drop it.” I sit down and pull out my pen, then grab the test off the top and flip it over.
It’s her test.
Of course it would be hers. I stare at it, wondering how in the hell this is going to get any easier. Just seeing her handwriting makes my pulse race. Makes my heart ache. I lightly trace her name with the tip of my finger. I’m pretty sure it’s the most beautiful handwriting I’ve ever seen.
“Please?” Caulder says.
I flinch, having forgotten they were even standing here. I have got to stop thinking about her like this. She’s a student. I slap her test facedown on the pile and stand up.
“Kel, do you like pizza?”
He shakes his head. “No. I love pizza.”
“Go ask your mom if you can chill with us tonight. We need a boy’s night.”
Kel jumps out of his chair and they both run toward the front door. I take a seat at the bar again and drop my head into my hands.
This entire day is definitely my suck.
I REST MY hand on the door to the administration office, almost second-guessing my entrance. I’m not in the mood for Mrs. Alex today. Unfortunately, she sees me through the glass window and waves. Her flirty wave. I suck it up and reluctantly open the door.
“Good morning, Will,” she says in her annoying singsong voice.
I know I was “Will” to her just a couple of years ago, but it wouldn’t hurt her to extend me the courtesy that she extends to all the other teachers here. I don’t bother arguing, though. “Morning.” I shove a form across the desk toward her. “Can you have this signed by Mr. Murphy and fax it to my faculty advisor?”
She takes the form and places it in a tray. “Anything for you,” she says and smiles. I give her a quick smile in return, then spin toward the exit, very conscious of my own ass this time.
“Oh, by the way,” she calls after me. “That new student I registered yesterday just came by to drop your class. I guess she isn’t a big fan of poetry. You’ll need to sign the form I gave her before I can make it official. She’s probably on her way to your classroom right now.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, exiting the office.
This is going to be impossible. It’s not like I can just erase the fact that Lake exists. I’ll more than likely see her at work on a daily basis, whether in passing . . . in the lunchroom . . . in the parking lot. I’ll definitely see her at home every day considering her house is the first thing I see when I walk out my own front door. Or look out my window. Not that I’ll be doing that.
Kel and Caulder are becoming inseparable, so I’ll eventually have to interact with her regarding them. Trying to avoid her isn’t going to work. Lake is absolutely right . . . it isn’t going to work at all. I kept trying to tell myself over and over last night that what she said wasn’t true, but it is. I wonder if the only other alternative would be to try and at least be her friend. We’re obviously going to have to work through this situation somehow.
When I round the corner to my classroom, she’s standing next to my door with the transfer form pressed against the wall, attempting to forge my name. My first instinct is to turn around and walk away, but I realize these are the exact types of situations we’re going to have to learn to confront.
“That’s not a good idea,” I say, before she forges my name. If anyone could recognize my handwriting, it would be Mrs. Alex.
Lake spins around and looks at me. Her cheeks flush and she darts her eyes down to my shirt, embarrassed. I walk past her and unlock the door, then motion for her to enter the classroom. She walks to my desk and smacks her form down.
“Well, you weren’t here yet, I thought I’d spare you the trouble,” she says.
She must not have had her coffee today. I pick up the form and look it over. “Russian Lit? That’s what you chose?”
She rolls her eyes. “It was either that or Botany.”
I pull my chair out and take a seat, preparing to sign the form. As soon as the tip of my pen meets the paper, it occurs to me that in a way, I’m being incredibly selfish. She chose poetry as an elective before she even knew I would be teaching it. She chose poetry because she loves it. The fact that the thoughts I have about her make me uncomfortable is an extremely selfish reason to force her into Russian Literature for the rest of the year. I hesitate, then lay the pen back down on the paper.
“I thought a lot last night . . . about what you said yesterday. It’s not fair of me to ask you to transfer just because it makes me uneasy. We live a hundred yards apart; our brothers are becoming best friends. If anything, this class will be good for us, help us figure out how to navigate when we’re around each other.” I reach into my satchel and pull out the test she somehow made a perfect score on. “Besides, you’ll obviously breeze through.”
She takes the test from my hands and looks down at it. “I don’t mind switching,” she says quietly. “I understand where you’re coming from.”
I put the lid back on the pen and scoot my chair back. “Thanks, but it can only get easier from here, right?”
She nods her head unconvincingly. “Right,” she says.
I know I’m completely wrong. She could move back to Texas today and I would still feel too close to her. But once again, it’s not my feelings that should matter at this point. It’s hers. I’ve screwed her life up enough in the past week; the last thing I want to do is shove Russian Lit on top of that. I crumple up her transfer form and chuck it toward the trash can. When it misses, she walks over and picks it up, then throws it in.
“I guess I’ll see you third period, Mr. Cooper,” she says as she exits the room.
The way she refers to me as “Mr. Cooper” makes me scowl. I hate the fact that I’m her teacher.
I’d so much rather be her Will.