by Mia Ford
“You do have hard evidence,” I shrieked, pointing down to the ruined plastic. “It’s right there!”
Carmody chuckled. “No, this ain’t nothin’,” he said. “We don’t know anything – how do you even know these were for you?”
“Because my name was written on the box,” I said in exasperation. “Look, I know all of this stuff has to be connected! It’s not just some random guy trying to mess with me. He really wants to hurt me!”
Carmody snickered. “Honey, I get that you have a very high opinion of yourself, but trust me – this is just some kid messing around.”
Tears stung my eyes. Angela wrapped a protective arm around me and pulled me close.
“My friend is really scared,” she said sternly to Carmody. “And you’re telling me you’re not even going to look into it?”
Carmody was already tucking his notepad and pencil away. “There ain’t nothin’ to look into,” he said. “Call us back if you get an actual threat.”
Angela stared at him in disgust and disbelief. “You’re kidding,” she said slowly. “This is disgusting! I thought you guys were supposed be on our side.”
Carmody laughed. He pulled on his jacket and shook his head, nodding his head towards the front door. His silent partner walked out into the hall. Just as Carmody was about to follow, he turned back to Angela and me.
“Look, girls, I know it’s scary. Big, big city and you’re all on you’se own. I get that. But you girls are adults now, and that means not calling the cops for every little thing that frightens you.”
I could tell Angela was about to resist, but I knew that my tears would be falling soon and I didn’t want to cry in front of the cops.
“Fine,” I said softly. “Thanks for coming out.”
“You two have a real good day,” Carmody said. He tipped his hat, then walked out the door.
Angela kicked it shut behind him. “New York’s best,” Angela said bitterly. “Don’t make me laugh. Those two were pathetic!”
I bit my lip and shrugged. “Yeah,” I said softly. “I told you.”
Angela pulled me into a close hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” she said. “I had no idea they would be so callous. They practically blamed you!”
I nodded. “I know.” I wrinkled my nose. “Same way they treated me when Andy tried grabbing me in that alley. They acted like it was no big deal – like I deserved it, because I’d once asked him for coffee.”
Angela heaved a large sigh. “What are you gonna do?”
I bit my lip and sniffled. “I have no idea,” I said quietly. “When I think of something, I’ll let you know.”
Chapter Fifteen
June
On Monday, Angela had to go back to work. I wish I could say that I was starting to feel better about my whole situation, but the truth was that I was feeling more depressed than ever before. Day after day passed by where I did nothing but sit on the couch and flip through old shows, and I was starting to wonder if I shouldn’t be spending my time by looking for a job. But every time I pulled up my laptop and started working on my resume, I just felt guilty and sad. I couldn’t believe that my lifelong goal of teaching had barely lasted for more than a year.
Thursday morning, just as I was settling down on the couch with some leftover pizza and a bad romantic comedy, my phone buzzed on the end table. My hand was shaking as I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hello, may I please speak with June Rogers?”
“This is she.”
“June, this is Anne Marie, one of the sectaries at P.S.151. How are you?”
“Um, I’m fine.” My cheeks flamed bright red and I bit my lip.
“Good. I was hoping you could come in this afternoon for a small meeting – just myself, you, and Principal Morris.”
Oh, shit, I thought. It’s finally happening. They’re going to hand me a pink slip and then it’s all over.
“Okay,” I said nervously.
“June, could you be here in an hour?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Thanks so much for your cooperation, I really appreciate it. See you soon.”
I hung up and sprang off the couch, knocking my pizza onto the floor. I stared at it for a moment, debating whether or not to clean it up. They’re going to fire me, I thought. It doesn’t matter. I’ll still be home before Angela. I can just clean it up then. Or who knows – maybe I can just eat it, because I’ll be feeling so miserable that I won’t be able to stand myself.
I shuddered and darted into my room. Tugging on a knit dress, I added tights, boots, and a swipe of coral lipstick. My hair was a greasy tangle but I picked it apart as best I could, using some of Angela’s dry shampoo and combing it into a chignon.
Downstairs, I hailed a cab. It made me nervous to be spending that kind of money today – after all, now that I was about to be officially fired, I wouldn’t really have any play money for a while. Or any money, I realized bleakly.
The cab halted to a stop in front of P.S.151 and I gave the driver the biggest tip I could without overspending. Then I ran up the stairs, for what I knew would be my last time walking through the front doors.
The front office was quiet – it was the middle of the day, and I figured most of the kids were at lunch. Anne Marie stood up and smiled when she saw me.
“June, right on time. If you wouldn’t mind coming with me,” she said, leading the way into Principal Morris’s office.
I gulped. “Here goes nothing,” I muttered under my breath. “I just hope I don’t cry.”
Principal Morris was seated behind his desk, looking more regal and walrus-like than ever before. This time, his attention was clearly focused on Anne Marie. When I walked in and sat down, he smiled.
“June, I’m so glad you could make it out,” Principal Morris said. “This is something we’ve been meaning to discuss with you for a few days, but I wanted to be sure that everything was right on track.”
I swallowed nervously. “Just get it over with,” I said.
“What?”
“I know you’re going to fire me,” I said miserably. “I know that’s what’s going to happen. Just, please – do it quickly. Please don’t humiliate me.”
Anne Marie and Principal Morris exchanged an odd glance.
“June, we’re not going to fire you.”
“What?”
Anne Marie laughed nervously. “No. We’re here to ask you back, and we’re going to pay you for your time off, too.”
“What…why?”
“June, you’re a very good teacher,” Principal Morris said gently. “Your class seems to love you. Ruth, your assistant, speaks very highly of you.”
“But…but…what about Andy?”
Annie Marie and Principal Morris glanced at each other again, this time less warmly.
“Andrew Lipinski has been fired, immediately,” Anne Marie said. “We’ve decided to file charges against him.” She pursed her lips. “There’s just one problem.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What? What’s going on?”
Principal Morris cleared his throat. “We haven’t been able to locate Andrew,” he said. “Neither have the police.”
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt they’re looking very hard.” I bit my lip, wondering if I should mention anything about the encounter in the alley, or the weird burned dolls. In the end, I decided it was for the best if I didn’t mention any “drama” that had taken place outside of school.
“Well, as soon as we find him, he’ll be arrested.”
I bit my lip. My head was a confusing swirl of emotions and I had no idea what I was supposed to say.
“I…I can’t believe you’re not firing me,” I said quietly.
“We had no intention of firing you at all,” Principal Morris replied. “June, I’m very sorry for the stress we’ve caused you. But I promise – this was just a procedural thing.”
I nodded. “Well, thank you very much.”
“So, will y
ou come back?”
My eyes filled with tears and I nodded happily. “Oh, yes,” I said quickly. “I can’t wait.”
“Good,” Principal Morris replied. “Why not take tomorrow off and come in on Monday?”
“Sounds good.” I sniffled, wiping my nose on my hand. “Thank you.”
I left P.S.151 before I could start crying for real, but as soon as I was outside, the truth hit me and I shrieked, jumping up and down. I didn’t even care that I was in public – I didn’t care who saw me, as long as they knew how happy I was.
“I didn’t get fired!” I shrieked, dancing around in a little circle. I’d practically skipped all the way to the subway station before I remembered Thomas and Angela. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I called Thomas immediately.
“Thomas, I didn’t get fired. I didn’t lose my job! They asked me to come in and told me they wanted me to come back!”
“June, congratulations,” Thomas said. He sounded far-away, distant.
“Can we celebrate?” I was still jumping up and down for joy.
“Sure. Are you free tomorrow night?”
“Oh, yes,” I said happily.
“Good.” Thomas gave me the name of a new Spanish restaurant, and told me to meet him at seven-thirty the next evening. By the time we hung up, I was positively beaming.
When I got home, I texted Angela. She left work early and burst into the apartment with a cheap sheet cake and a bottle of Prosecco.
“I know I shouldn’t be splurging, but I’m so happy for you!” Angela pulled me into a tight hug. “Girl, this is the best news ever!”
“I know,” I gushed. “I can’t believe it. I just feel so good!”
Angela grinned. “I knew you had things under control,” she said. She poured me a glass of the sparkling wine and we toasted to ‘new things.’
“When I told Thomas, he didn’t seem too happy,” I said. I frowned and bit my lip.
“Oh, June, you know him – he was probably just really busy at work,” Angela said. “Give it time – I’m sure he’ll be thrilled when he sees you tomorrow.” She raised an eyebrow. “Just don’t come back here. I’m going to be here all night.”
I blushed hotly. “No way,” I said. I grinned. “But I can’t wait to sleep with him again.”
Angela laughed. “Girl, you’re too much,” she said.
We spent all of Thursday night celebrating. Friday, I slept in, hoping to get rid of my hangover before my date with Thomas. By now, I was barely nervous – we’d been out together so many times that I was expecting something really special.
Aguilar didn’t disappoint. I was floored at the beautiful display inside the lobby – a fountain made entirely of glass mosaic. The water splashed and flowed over gorgeously vibrant tiles.
“Senorita is enjoying our fountain, yes?”
I blushed and turned around to see a young, handsome maître d.
“Yes, it’s lovely,” I said. “I’m here a little early – I’m meeting Thomas March at seven-thirty.”
The maître d nodded. “Mr. March has not yet joined us,” he said. “But would you like to be seated?”
I nodded and nervously followed the maître d through the beautiful restaurant. The brightly colored tables were filled with all kinds of expensive looking couples, and I wondered what kind of delicious wine Thomas would order for us when he arrived.
“I’ll send a complimentary glass of sangria over to you,” the maître d said. He bowed deeply and I blushed.
Am I supposed to tip him or something, I wondered. But thankfully, he turned on his heel and walked away before I felt too awkward.
Seconds later, a glass of red sangria was brought to the table. I sipped it and thanked the waiter before starting to glance through the menu. Thankfully, it was printed in both English and Spanish. But by the time I’d read the whole thing, cover to cover, there was still no sign of Thomas.
I frowned. It was quarter to eight. When I checked my phone, there was no text or call. He’s probably stuck in traffic, I thought. And I’m sure he doesn’t want to get into an accident by texting. Maybe his Porsche is repaired and he’s still waiting.
Another ten minutes passed and there was still no sign of my date. Frustrated, I pulled out my phone and texted him: “Hey, everything okay?”
No response.
When the waiter came back for my empty glass, I was embarrassed. I picked a cheap appetizer on the menu – and at eighteen dollars for three seared scallops, it wasn’t very cheap – and told the waiter that I was still waiting on Thomas to show.
Fifteen minutes later, just as I was finishing my scallops, Thomas arrived. He looked flushed and out of breath, and he sat down hard without looking at me or greeting me.
“Hi,” I said cautiously. “Is everything okay?”
Thomas didn’t respond. He started digging through his pockets. After a few seconds of irritated silence, he pulled out his phone and pressed angrily at the screen.
I sat there, feeling like a fool. Thankfully, the waiter chose that exact moment to come up to the table.
“Good evening, sir,” the waiter said. “Would you like to see a wine list?”
“No,” Thomas said shortly. “Just bring us anything aged on oak, from the late nineties.”
“Yes, sir,” the waiter said. “Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”
Thomas glanced up and looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time. “No,” he said. “June, have you gotten a chance to look?”
I nodded mutely.
“Just ask her,” Thomas said. “June, pick something with seafood,” he said. “And I want ceviche as an appetizer.”
“Yes, sir,” the waiter noted. He turned to me and I began to sweat. My cheeks flushed as I fumbled with the menu.
“Um, can I have the gamba…gambas de…ai-aye-oh?”
“Yes, the shrimp with garlic,” the waiter said smoothly. “Very good choice. I’ll bring two dinners.”
“Thank you.” I blushed hotly, ashamed of my mistake. I really need to learn basic French and Spanish pronunciation, I realized. That is, if I’m going to keep dating Thomas.
As soon as the waiter was gone, Thomas sighed and took a long drink of water.
“You okay?” I asked nervously.
Thomas glared at me. “No.”
“What’s wrong?”
Thomas sighed. “June, you should really brush up on your foreign pronunciation,” he said. “If we keep going places, it’s best to know all of the dishes by name.”
My blush deepened to a painful red. “I know,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. I was expecting you to order for us – you usually do that.”
Thomas sighed forcefully, as if I’d somehow just him desperately uncomfortable with my comment.
“Normally I’ve had a better day at work,” Thomas said. The waiter brought a bottle of white wine and poured a taste for Thomas. This time, Thomas didn’t even bother sniffing and swirling the wine around in his glass. He poured two generous glasses and handed one to me.
