For Your Own Good

by Samantha Downing

  The woman goes on to describe everything about the plant, telling him a lot of what he already knows. She adds that the only reason there are berries right now is because it’s in a greenhouse.

  While the woman talks, he smiles and nods and half listens. He stops thinking about the doll’s-eyes as a plant and starts thinking about it as a weapon.

  The berries are the most poisonous part. In theory, you could crush them up and put them in someone’s food. But that would mean you have to prepare a specific dish for a specific person. Hard to do that for one person, let alone two, unless you’re very close to both.

  Which means you couldn’t use the whole berry. You’d have to use the juice inside. If extracted or squeezed out, it could be put in anything. Even coffee.

  That’s how he would do it.

  58

  FALLON CAN DOWNLOAD the footage from the camera in Teddy’s classroom throughout the day. She doesn’t even have to be right next to his room. During the morning break, she decides to view the video right from her own desk.

  She wants to see his reaction to her apology this morning. What she expects to see is Teddy sit down at his desk and go back to work. What she ends up seeing is much worse.

  After she left, he waited for a moment before getting up to shut the door to his classroom. He walked back to his desk and sat down.

  Then he laughed.

  Not a chuckle, either. He burst out into a big, loud laugh that almost blows the pods out of her ears.

  * * *

  TEDDY KNEW FALLON was up to something—he just didn’t know what. Now, it doesn’t matter. After her little visit, he’s less worried about her than he was before. The way she’d stood in front of him, wearing those designer clothes with scuffed shoes. She was like a child playing dress-up.

  A bad liar, too. Constantly shifting her weight, averting her eyes. Nervous, yes, but also transparent. Nothing but a little girl playing schoolyard games.

  He should have known better than to think there was more to it.

  To think he’d believed she’d stolen his plaque. She’s not even capable of that.

  After spinning off the road this morning, Teddy didn’t have high hopes for the day. But things have really turned around, starting with catching Joe in the kitchen. Then the interaction with Fallon. And right after first period, he received an email from the front office about Zach:

  Please be aware that Zach Ward has withdrawn from Belmont, effective immediately. He will be homeschooled for the rest of the semester. Forward your current lesson plan to the school administrator’s office ASAP.

  Teddy never doubted Zach was the other person the DA was referring to in his press conference. Still, the news that he has left school is better than seeing Joe eating breakfast in Belmont’s kitchen, even better than Fallon’s little visit. It’s the best news he’s heard all day.

  The second-best comes at lunchtime, when he opens one of the windows in his classroom and pokes his head out. Nothing. No cameras are anywhere near the outside of his windows. He leaves the one in the far corner unlocked.

  * * *

  AT EXACTLY TWELVE o’clock, Zach is at home and his new tutor arrives. His name is Titus.

  “Before you ask, yes, that’s my real name,” he says. He’s a tall guy with glasses, and he’s wearing a Dartmouth sweatshirt. “And, no, not because my family is religious.”

  Zach thinks for a minute. “Shakespeare?”

  “Yes.” Titus rolls his eyes. “My parents met at a Shakespeare festival. During Titus Andronicus.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Zach feels like they’re going to get along just fine. Anyone with that much scorn for their parents is okay in his book.

  They go into the kitchen, where Zach grabs a bag of chips and a couple of waters.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to you?” Titus says. “Did you get in trouble?”

  For a few hours, Zach had managed to forget everything happening in his life. The felony bribery charge. The murders. Courtney. It all comes flooding back. “Something like that,” he says.

  Titus nods and sits down at the table, opening up his backpack. He pulls out a laptop, five books, and a notepad. “Ever been homeschooled before?”

  “Nope.”

  “Here’s the deal. I give you assignments, you email them to me. We meet in person once a week to review. For tests, I’ll be in the room with you.” Titus pauses to look at Zach, who says nothing. “I’ll be straight with you. Your parents are paying me, which means if you miss any assignments or start screwing around, I’m telling them. No question.”

  Zach is impressed. Titus is straight-up and fair, which he appreciates. It’s always easier to deal with a situation if you know the rules up front. “Got it,” he says.

  They start to work, not breaking for almost two hours. His mom texts once to make sure Titus showed up. She texts Titus twice to make sure Zach is doing what he’s supposed to. He is. The work is just as difficult, if not more so, than it was at Belmont. Zach doesn’t mind. It keeps him from thinking about everything else.

  During their break, they eat a couple of the premade meals Zach’s mom has delivered every week. Zach has a chance to learn more about Titus, who just started graduate school and tutors for extra money. “My parents think it’s a good idea,” he says, rolling his eyes again.

  And, yes, Titus did go to Belmont.

  “I’m sorry,” Zach says.

  “Yeah, it sucked. What the hell’s happening over there, anyway? People are getting murdered?”

  Zach nods, remembering what Ezekiel and his mom had said. Not one word. Not to anyone for any reason. “Did you know Mrs. B?”

  “Oh yeah, she was nice.”

  “She was.”

  “I heard Fallon came back to take her place,” Titus says.

  “Fallon?”

  “Fallon Knight. She graduated the same year as me.”

  “I think I’ve seen her around,” Zach says. “I’m in Crutcher’s class this year. Or I was.”

  “Crutcher.” Titus shakes his head. “Fallon hated him so much. I’m surprised she’d go back to Belmont, even for a job.”

  “She was on his shit list?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Me too.”

  “Sucks for you,” Titus says.

  Yes, it does. Or it did. Doesn’t matter now, since he’s no longer at Belmont. At least that’s one good thing.

  “What did she do to get on his bad side?” Zach asks.

  “I don’t know exactly. I just remember her raging about him online. And that was after we graduated. Something to do with a reference letter.”

  “She asked him for one? I’d never do that.”

  “That’s the thing about teachers,” Titus says. “Sometimes, you don’t know you’re on their shit list until it’s too late.”

  59

  TEDDY FEELS GOOD when he walks into the school on Monday morning. It’s quiet out front, because the reporters have gotten sick of standing around in the cold, waiting for news that doesn’t come. The DA hasn’t said anything else, nor have the police. No leaks, no rumors. Someone has tightened up their ship.

  The only thing new is the sign in front of the school:

  SECURITY NOTICE

  Video surveillance in use on these premises

  The cameras work after all. Finally.

  He wonders if the students will change their behavior. If they’ll feel like they have to watch what they say and do. Not a bad thing.

  Teddy isn’t the only one thinking about the effect on students. In the teachers’ lounge, Louella is clutching her crystals, moaning about Big Brother.

  “Kids shouldn’t have to live like this,” she says, almost spilling her herbal tea. “They should feel safe and loved, and not like so
meone is watching their every move.”

  “It is a shame,” someone else says. “But it’s also reality.”

  Indeed.

  Teddy makes his coffee and picks up his things, heading down to his classroom. The door is locked, just as he’d left it. The first place he looks, as always, is at the wall.

  His Teacher of the Year award is back.

  At first glance, he thinks it’s been returned. That someone had snuck into his class and returned it on Friday, before the cameras in the hall were functional. Upon closer examination, he finds a sticker on the edge of the frame.

  A new plaque.

  Rather than investigate the one that was stolen, the headmaster—or, more likely, Ms. Marsha—had another one made. A shortcut. Teddy hates it when people take shortcuts.

  Still, his classroom does feel better now that he has an award plaque on the wall. Like everything is as it should be.

  Today is going to be a good day. He thought it would be when he woke up this morning and saw that the sun was already shining. The temperature was above freezing, and the ice had already started to melt. It’s still winter, but the end is near.

  And now that class is starting, he gets to continue talking about Dante’s version of hell. It doesn’t get better than that. He doesn’t even feel like picking at his cuticles.

  Everything continues to be smooth. No ripples, no trouble, no surprise announcements on the news. A perfectly normal day of teaching.

  Until about one o’clock.

  He starts to feel a little light-headed. A little woozy. He’s in the middle of fifth period, talking about the circles of hell, and he has to sit down.

  “Are you okay, Mr. Crutcher?”

  A student says this, and Teddy nods. “I’m fine.”

  In the distance, he hears a scream. Or he thinks he does, but it’s hard to tell. All he wants to do is put his head down on the desk and make the spinning stop.

  60

  FALLON OPENS HER eyes, blinks a few times. No idea where she is.

  White room, white sheets. Her own sheets are blue. And she’s up too high, raised off the floor. Her blow-up mattress is much lower. The curtains are drawn across the window, and she can’t tell if it’s day or night.

  But there’s a tube in her arm.

  An IV. She’s in the hospital.

  The first thing she does is move her legs, then her arms. A wave of relief hits her. Everything works.

  Fallon thinks back to earlier in the day. The last thing she remembers is being at school, teaching a class, when she heard a scream. She went out into the hallway to check on it.

  That’s it.

  She pushes the button next to her bed. A minute later, a woman appears. She’s young and smiley—like they’re in a hair salon instead of a hospital.

  “Hello there,” the woman says. Her name tag says Tammy. “How are you feeling?”

  “Why . . . ?” Fallon’s voice croaks. The nurse rushes to get her some water, and she tries again. “Why am I in the hospital?”

  “You collapsed when you were at the school,” Tammy says.

  “I collapsed?”

  Tammy nods, her lips pursed. Not so bright and cheery now.

  “What’s wrong with me?” Fallon says. “Why is my throat so sore?”

  “We had to pump your stomach. Unfortunately, it does cause some throat irritation because we had to put a tube down your throat. That should clear up soon, though.”

  “Why would you . . . ?” Fallon shakes her head, trying to remember what she ate. “Did I have food poisoning?”

  Tammy sits down on the edge of the bed. She wears glasses—oversize, bright green—and they make her eyes look huge. “There was another event at Belmont. A number of people fell ill.”

  It takes Fallon a long time to figure out what that means. “Poisoned. Was I poisoned?”

  “They have to finish the testing, but right now it looks that way.”

  Fallon pulls the covers up around her. “Oh my God.”

  “You’re fine now,” Tammy says. “Are you hungry?”

  “Not now I’m not.”

  “I’m sorry. That was a stupid question. You’ll be here overnight for observation, and then you can get back home.” She pats Fallon on the leg and stands up, straightening the covers. “Just press the buzzer if you need anything.”

  Tammy walks out, leaving Fallon feeling like she’s in shock. Of all the things she had thought would happen when she returned to Belmont, being poisoned wasn’t one of them. Exposed for not having a college degree, yes. Fired, perhaps. Maybe even arrested, depending on how far she had to go to get Teddy fired.

  But poisoned? Nope. That was not something she’d thought would happen to her. Or anyone else, after Sonia died.

  A number of people got sick, Tammy had said. Fallon grabs the remote and turns on the TV. The breaking news banner on the screen makes her sit up so fast, she almost jerks the IV out of her arm.

  MORE TROUBLE AT BELMONT ACADEMY: 1 DEAD, 6 HOSPITALIZED

  The reporter on the screen is young and blond and wears too much makeup. She keeps talking and talking, and the words swirl together. It’s all a reworded version of the banner. Not once does she say the name of the person who died.

  Fallon presses the buzzer.

  As soon as Tammy appears, again looking cheerful, Fallon says, “Who died?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  Fallon points to the TV. “It says someone died.”

  “Oh.” Tammy’s face falls into a deep frown. Not good. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. Everyone who was brought here is going to be fine.”

  The anger is immediate. Familiar. It’s been with Fallon ever since she can remember. Because of her parents, who expected too much. Because of her friends, who were always smarter, prettier, better. Because of her teachers, who asked for more and more and more.

  And Teddy, who derailed her whole life.

  It’s not just the big things, either. She gets angry about a lot of little things. When someone is running late, when she finds a spot on her blouse, when someone cuts her off in traffic: Anger has become her default.

  Like now.

  Fallon grips the remote so hard that she turns up the volume. The reporter sounds like she’s screaming.

  * * *

  “I DON’T THINK you understand.” Teddy has to restrain himself from getting angry with his nurse. “My wife works at this hospital. All-i-son Crutch-er. That’s her name. Can you page her and let her know I’m here?”

  The nurse looks older than God. She shuffles out of the room without saying a word.

  Teddy sighs. Why everything has to be so difficult is just beyond him.

  His TV is on, and it has been for the past hour. The reporter is so thin, she looks like a bobblehead, and it’s highly unattractive. At least her voice is tolerable.

  Allison must know he’s here by now. She must. And, yes, perhaps she’s still angry at him, but for God’s sake, he’s in the hospital. Being married for over a decade should warrant a visit at least.

  He glances over at the phone, wondering if he should call down to the emergency room. How unfortunate he was unconscious when he was brought in. He’ll never know if Allison saw him, or even if she helped him. Not unless she comes to his room.

  No, he’s not going to call. For months, he has not called her, has not reached out at all. In his mind, she just needed time. Betrayals are like that. Shock, anger, and finally, acceptance. Once all the extreme emotionsstarted to fade, he’d expected to hear from her. And he did. It just came in the form of divorce papers.

  So dramatic. She was never like that before, and truth be told, it’s not a good look.

  Yes, perhaps he did agree to have children when they first decided to get married. She was so dead set on having kids, it was the only way she would marry h
im. He’d had no choice.

  “Of course I want kids,” he told her. “Who doesn’t?”

  As someone who spent every day around self-absorbed teenagers, kids were the last thing he wanted—even with Allison. So he lied. He’d never expected to have to make good on that promise. He thought he would be able to talk her out of it.

  Didn’t happen.

  * * *

  “I DON’T UNDERSTAND why we need to have kids right now,” Teddy told her. “Don’t you enjoy our life?”

  “Of course I do.”

  They had just finished eating dinner. Teddy was still sitting at the kitchen table, but Allison wasn’t. She had stood up to take her dish to the sink.

  “I’m just not sure we need to have children,” he said. “Not right now, given our financial situation. We haven’t even finished the house.”

  “It’s not about need. It’s about want. I want kids.” With her back to him, she started rinsing her dish. “You said you did, too.”

  “Of course I do. I’m just thinking about money.”

  “If we wait until we’re rich, we’ll never have kids,” she said.

  He didn’t answer that, because it was true. The words hung in the air like a bad smell.

  “A little while longer,” he finally said. “Let’s at least wait until after the holidays.”

  She turned back to him, her eyes hopeful. “The New Year? Promise me we’ll try in the New Year.”

  “I promise.”

  She held him to that. As the holidays approached, she started talking about going off birth control.

  The vasectomy had become necessary. It was also a last resort, after he’d realized he couldn’t slip birth control pills into Allison’s coffee without her or her doctor figuring it out. He’d had to get the vasectomy. No other option.