Mr. Bennett ordered some sort of ravioli. I can’t tell what it is from here, and it’s not like I could go over there and ask. I’m curious what it is though. Is it plain cheese ravioli, or is it the one with mushrooms? Does Mr. Bennett like mushrooms? Or does he think that it’s weird that people eat fungus, the same way I do?
I’m trying not to call attention to the fact that I’ve been staring at him through the entire meal ever since he walked in. But it’s hard not to. I mean, he’s handsome enough that I’m sure I’m not the only person looking at him in this place. The waitress is definitely flirting—at one point, she had her hand on his shoulder, and I thought he looked annoyed, but I wasn’t sure. I was glad that he wasn’t charmed by the boobalicious waitress.
The other thing I can’t help but notice is he’s not having much fun with Mrs. Bennett. She’s not my favorite person, if only because math is my weakest subject and she doesn’t make it easy, but I assumed he likes her. I mean, he’s married to her. Plus, she looks irritatingly pretty tonight, with smoky makeup lining her big eyes and a red dress that emphasizes her cute, trim figure. So I would think he must like her, but they have been sitting together for at least twenty minutes now, and they have barely said two words to one another.
If Mr. Bennett and I were having dinner together, we would have a lot to talk about. I would bring a book of poetry—maybe Poe—and I would just love to hear his thoughts on each of them. Even though that’s what we do in class every day, I would never get sick of it. Not in a million billion years.
Doesn’t Mrs. Bennett realize how incredible her husband is? When all my clothes got soaked today and she made me sit through her lesson and even repeat my homework, it was like she didn’t care. Or worse, she thought I deserved to suffer. He was the only one who noticed how uncomfortable I was and sent me home. She doesn’t appreciate being married to someone who is so kind and considerate, because she’s the opposite.
“Well, if that’s all you’re going to eat,” Mom says, “I may as well get the check.”
I don’t want to leave the restaurant. While I’m sitting here, it’s almost like I’m having dinner with Mr. Bennett, even though that’s kind of dumb because he is across the entire dining room and he doesn’t even know that I’m here. We are about as far from having dinner together as possible, yet I still don’t want to leave.
“Wait,” I say, “let me go to the bathroom first, then I’ll eat some more.”
My mother looks skeptical, but what is she supposed to say—I can’t use the bathroom? So I follow the signs to the hidden hallway that contains the bathroom. Naturally, there’s a line for the single women’s bathroom, but that’s fine because it will just make it take longer. Especially since I don’t actually need to go at all.
“Addie?” a familiar voice startles me while I’m scrolling on my phone.
I’m totally surprised to see Mr. Bennett standing behind me. I guess he needed the bathroom too. I knew we were on the same wavelength.
“Hey,” I say awkwardly. Since our last encounter, I have showered and am wearing a clean pair of blue jeans. I even put on a nice pink dress shirt that my mom says complements my skin tone, although I am skeptical.
“I saw you in the restaurant,” he says. “That’s your mother, right?”
A little thrill goes through me at the idea that Mr. Bennett noticed me, even in the crowded dining room. “Uh-huh.”
I wonder if it’s okay to be talking to him in this isolated area. If someone saw us here together, they might get the wrong idea. The last thing I want would be for Mr. Bennett to end up like Mr. Tuttle.
He cocks his head to the side. “Are you okay? You looked like you were having a pretty bad day earlier.”
That is a massive understatement, but honestly, I don’t want to complain about Kenzie and her friends right now. I don’t want him to think of me as some loser who is getting bullied by the popular kids. “Sort of.”
“What happened?”
“It wasn’t a big deal.” I try to laugh, to show how not upset I am about what happened, even though it’s phony. “Some kids in gym threw my clothes in the shower, so everything got soaked.”
Mr. Bennett winces. “Jesus, that’s awful. Who did that to you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“You can tell me.” When I don’t say anything, he raises his eyebrow. “I can keep it between us.”
I really can’t tell him, even though I like the idea of me and Mr. Bennett sharing a secret. No matter what he says, he’s still a teacher, and he might talk to Kenzie if I tell him about it. And if I rat her out, she’s going to be worse. The last thing I want is for Kenzie to hate me more. I’m better off taking her abuse.
“I don’t know,” I repeat.
His brown eyes hold mine for a moment, and a little thrill goes through me. I’m not sure why though. Maybe it just feels nice to have a teacher on my side again. Or anyone on my side again. After the whole thing with Mr. Tuttle, it feels like everyone hates me.
“I’ll tell you what,” he says. “The rest of the class has another homework assignment today, analyzing a poem we talked about in class. But I have special homework that I want you to do tonight.”
If Mrs. Bennett—or really any other teacher—said that to me, I would have been horrified. But right now, I’m intrigued. “Okay…”
“I want you to write an angry letter to the person who took your clothes,” he says. I start to protest, but then he adds, “Not a poem, but a letter. You don’t have to use their name, but I want you to get out that anger. Let your anger out on the page for me. Tell me what you want to do to this person.”
“What I want to do?”
He bobs his head. “Exactly. Write a revenge letter. Tell me what you would do if you had five minutes alone with this person and nobody would ever know.”
He has no idea I’ve got Kenzie’s house keys in my backpack. I imagine what would have happened if I had snuck into her bedroom and waited for her in the closet. I might have actually had five minutes alone with her. And let me tell you, those five minutes would have involved some serious payback.
A smile twitches at my lips. “Okay.”
I can already imagine what I’m going to write:
You have everything in the world. And you are in a relationship with the greatest guy I’ve ever known. But you don’t deserve any of that. What you deserve is to get your eyes scratched out. No, that’s too good for you.
“Anyway,” he says, “it looks like you’re having a nice meal with your mother.”
“Yeah.” I rub at the back of my elbow. “And, you know, I hope you’re having a nice night with Mrs. Bennett.”
For a moment, his eyes cloud over. “It’s her birthday.”
I’m not sure what that means exactly. “Oh.”
“So yeah.” He lifts his shoulders. “It’s fine. The food here is good.”
Oh boy. I was right.
Mr. Bennett isn’t having a good time with his wife. My impression of her in class is more accurate than I thought. She is not someone who goes home and then immediately becomes this super nice person who is totally different from the way she is at work. She’s a legit awful person. Mr. Bennett doesn’t like being married to her any more than I like having her as a teacher.
That’s why instead of using the empty men’s room and hurrying back to his table to be with her, he has been standing out in the hallway talking to me for the last five minutes.
At that moment, the person who was in front of me leaves the ladies’ room, and now it’s my turn. But I would much rather stand out here and talk to Mr. Bennett. Maybe I can let the person behind me skip ahead.
But before I can propose the idea, Mr. Bennett smiles at me. “I don’t want to keep you, Addie. I’ll see you in class tomorrow. And don’t forget that letter.”
I feel a twinge of regret as Mr. Bennett disappears into the men’s room. It occurs to me that as angry as I am at Kenzie, I’m even angrier at Mrs. Bennett for making him so unhappy.
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Chapter Twenty-Six
EVE
NATE SEEMED EVEN MORE DISTRACTED than usual during the meal and then subsequently on the drive home. And as soon as we walk in through the door to the garage, he lets out an exaggerated yawn.