Rock Bottom

by Canosa, Jamie

  “You coming?”

  I glanced up to find Elijah standing beside my desk, surprised to see most of the class had already cleared out of the room. I needed to stop spacing out.

  “I can’t. I need to talk to Mr. Parson for a minute.”

  He eyed me curiously. “Everything alright? You look a little sick again. Are you allergic to chemistry?”

  He was trying to make me smile, but it fell flat against the anxiety skyrocketing through my system. I needed to get this over with. Now. Before I had a stroke.

  “I gotta talk to him. I’ll see ya later.”

  “Do you want me to stick around?” He was actually starting to look a little concerned and Heaven only knew what I must have looked like.

  “No. No, it’s fine. I’ll just be a minute.”

  “Okay.” Elijah looked conflicted about his decision to go, but in the end he went, leaving me and Mr. Parson alone in the classroom.

  Gathering my stuff haphazardly into my arms, I relocated to a desk at the front of the room.

  “You wanted to talk to me?”

  “I do.” Mr. Parson got up and slowly strolled to the door, shutting it with his foot, leaving me sitting on the edge of my seat.

  He wasn’t a mean guy. Just out of college and not too much older than us, he was usually pretty cool, but he was torturing me now and I had no idea why.

  “Rylie, we have a problem.” He took a seat on the front edge of his desk, stretching his denim clad legs out in front of him so that they nearly touched my own.

  He definitely dressed better than most teachers in his button-up shirts rolled up at the sleeves and left open in the front to display some pretty cool tees. I swear he only wore them at all to comply with the dress code, however loosely. I knew he had to be at least twenty-two or twenty-three, but with his light shaggy hair forever flopping into those bright blue eyes and that handsome baby face, he could have easily passed as a student here instead of a teacher.

  “What problem?”

  “Cheating is not tolerated in my classroom, Ry.”

  “Cheating? I didn’t—”

  “I caught you looking at Mr. Prince more than once during the exam.”

  Oh, God, I swear my cheeks turned ten shades of crimson. “I wasn’t cheating. I was just . . . looking.”

  “Looking?”

  “I . . . sort of . . . have a little . . . crush . . . on Elijah. Maybe. A little.” Cripes, where the hell was the mute button when I needed it?

  “A crush? On Mr. Prince? Are you two dating?”

  “No.” Not yet, anyway.

  “That’s good to hear.” Seriously, even the teachers were against me dating Elijah? “Maybe we can still work this out.”

  “Yes. I’d like to work this out. I really wasn’t cheating.”

  “And yet you both had the exact same answers.”

  “The right answers. You can’t penalize us for both knowing the material we’re supposed to know.”

  “This is my classroom, Rylie. I can do whatever I like.” There was a sudden shift in the room. A chill. Mr. Parson went from the laid back friendly teacher we all knew and loved to someone else. Someone . . . intimidating.

  “I . . . I swear, I didn’t cheat. I studied. Hard. I don’t deserve a zero.”

  “What grade do you think you deserve, Rylie?” Why did he keep saying my name like that? It gave me goose bumps, and not the good kind.

  “I . . . Whatever I earned.”

  “Would you like to earn a hundred?”

  Was that a trick question? “Yes, of course.”

  “There may be a way we could work that out.” He stood and meandered toward the desk where I was sitting.

  My shoulders tensed as he circled around behind me, trailing a hand over them.

  “You’re so tense.” Fingers pressed into my skin as he rubbed my muscles. “Relax. Just breathe.”

  Breathing seemed impossible with what was happening. I couldn’t even process exactly what that was. “What . . .? What are you doing?”

  “Working it out.”

  “H-how can we do that?” My mouth had suddenly gone completely dry, making it difficult to speak.

  “I’ve had my eye on you all year, Rylie. You’re a beautiful young woman.” His fingers dipped lower, rubbing deeper in my shoulder blades and clavicle. “You’ve left me pretty . . . tense, too. Maybe you could do something about that.”

  “L-like w-what?” Why was I even asking? I already knew what he was implying. Some deep part of me was still desperately hoping I was completely overreacting to the situation. But I wasn’t.

  “Something that would earn that hundred you so desperately want.”

  Oh, my God. This was not happening. This stuff only happened on ridiculous after school specials. Not in real life. Not in my life.

  “Mr. . . . Mr. Parson,” I leaned as far forward as I could behind that desk, pulling away from his touch. “M-maybe I could take a retest, or—”

  “No retest. There’s one way to get the grade you want. The question is . . . how badly do you want it?”

  Chapter Seven

  I wanted it. I wanted it so bad. The thought of bringing home a zero and carrying the stigma of cheating through my senior year was almost too much to bear. I was going to be physically ill. His arm reached around from behind me, brushing across my chest and the tops of my breasts, causing me to recoil violently. I didn’t want it that bad.

  “I can’t. I won’t! Don’t touch me.” Tears pooled in my eyes, making it hard to see my stuff as I jumped from the seat and piled it into my arms as quickly as I could. “Don’t touch me.”

  When they spilled over, clearing my vision slightly, I found Mr. Parson leaning against the door. I stopped short waiting for him to move out of my way. Not certain that he would.

  “Then you keep the zero and I report you to the board of ethics.” My entire body shuddered at the thought. This could easily destroy my college prospects. “Get out of my classroom.”

  He stepped aside, but only far enough that I had to squeeze by him to get out of the door.

  When my arm bumped against his chest, he grabbed ahold of it and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Cheating can be the least of your problems. Breathe a word of what happened here today and it will be. It’s your word against mine and I can make your life very difficult, Miss Stark.”

  I locked up at his touch and couldn’t move—or breathe—again until he released me. Then, I moved. Ran like the room was on fire all the way to the closest bathroom.

  “Rylie?” I hadn’t realized I’d blown right by Elijah in the hallway. “Rylie, are you okay?”

  In complete disregard to the ‘Women’s’ sign on the door, he barged into the bathroom to find me hunched over a toilet. I hadn’t even had time to shut the stall door before losing my lunch.

  “What the hell happened in there?” He balled up a wad of toilet paper and handed it to me to wipe my mouth, not skeeved out in the least by my display.

  “This is a girl’s bathroom, Elijah.”

  “Yeah, and we’re the only ones in it, so what? You guys hiding some kind of secret handbook or something in here?” He ducked, like he was actually searching for something below the sinks, dragging out a small smile from me.

  “There you go.” He smiled, but it wasn’t his usual self-amused grin. It was almost . . . gentle. “Now tell me what happened.”

  My stomach heaved again and I considered diving back into the stall and slamming the door before it settled. “I-I can’t.”

  I wasn’t aware my hands were shaking until Elijah folded them in his. “You’re terrified. What the hell is going on? You better start talking, Ry, or I’m gonna go ask Mr. Parson.”

  “No! No, you can’t do that. Don’t-don’t say anything to him. Please.”

  Elijah’s eyes narrowed along with his lips. “Did he do something to you?”

  “No.” I shook my head hard enough to give myself a headache before one of Elijah’s hands
cupped my cheek, stopping me. “Not really.”

  “What does ‘not really’ mean?” He ducked his head, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “Rylie, talk to me.”

  “He . . . He accused me of cheating.”

  “I can see why that would upset you, but not like this. There’s more. What is it?”

  I licked my dry, chapping lips and flicked my eyes to his before dropping them again when the concern shining through quickly became too much to handle.

  “Just tell me.”

  “Nothing. I just . . . I don’t feel well. Must be that whole chemistry allergy thing.”

  “Bullshit. It’s real simple, Ry. Either you tell me or he does.”

  “Elijah, just forget about it. Please?”

  “Not gonna happen, Princess. You’ve got ten seconds to start talking.”

  “Elijah, I—”

  “Eight.”

  “I can’t. I have to—”

  “Five.”

  “I have to get home. My parents will be—”

  “Three, two, one.” Elijah’s booted foot slid backward and I panicked.

  “He . . . offered me a way to make it up.”

  “A retest?” Elijah’s confusion was obvious.

  I shook my head again as much as his steady touch would allow. “A way to e-earn it.”

  “Earn it?” His face hardened as understanding set in. “How did he want you to earn it, Rylie?”

  “By . . . By . . .” A sob I was unprepared for tore from my throat as the tears sprung up again. “I don’t know. He didn’t give me details.”

  “Son of a bitch. Did that asshole put his hands on you?”

  I couldn’t look at him, but the tremor that shook my body at the memory of Mr. Parson’s touch was all the answer he needed.

  “Bastard!” Elijah pulled me to him, wrapping me tight enough in his arms that I could feel the way his chest heaved against mine. I was terrified of what he planned to do, but I couldn’t stop crying long enough to ask him. “Shh. It’s okay.” His hand glided carefully up and down my back. “I’m gonna fix this. It’s going to be okay. Shh.”

  It took until my hysterics quieted into erratic sniffles for my brain to process his words. “What do you mean you’re going to fix this? Elijah, you can’t—”

  His hands framed my face again, forcing me to look at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “But he said if I told anyone, cheating would be the least of my problems. He could ruin everything. It would be my word against his. No one would believe—”

  “Don’t. Worry. About it. I will handle this. I promise.” He planted brief warm kiss on my forehead and—unlike Mr. Parson’s—Elijah’s touch brought out all the right kinds of goose bumps. “Now get cleaned up and I’ll drive you home.”

  “You got your car back already?”

  “Replacement. Don’t ask.”

  I wasn’t planning to. “My car’s in the lot.”

  I flipped on the sink and splashed cold water on my face, trying to ease away some of the atrocious red splotches.

  “I’ll drop it at your place later. You're in no condition to drive right now.”

  “You don’t have to—” The sink shut off and I turned to face Elijah, just to have his index finger pressed to my lips, effectively silencing my feeble protest.

  “Let’s go. Do you need anything from your locker?”

  I shook my head and he nodded, scooping my bag and excess books from the bathroom tile where I’d dumped them and led the way out into the hall. Thank goodness they were empty. Who knew what people would think if they saw the two of us coming out of a bathroom together.

  Chapter Eight

  When I went to sleep, a peek out my window revealed the driveway to be one car short, but when I woke in the morning, there she was safe-and-sound in my normal spot behind my mother. The seat, however, was a good six inches shy of the pedals. Scooting forward, I snagged the keys dangling from the ignition and froze.

  Sitting on my dashboard was a yellow rose, brighter and more beautiful than the weak morning sun through my windshield. Beside it, I recognized Elijah’s messy scrawl on the tiny slip of paper.

  Everything will be alright now. I promise.

  Minutes passed as I sat there, examining the flower. Running my fingers over its soft petals. Inhaling its sweet scent. I’d been doing my best not to think about everything that had happened. When I’d walked in the door yesterday and my mom asked what was wrong, I came really close to telling her everything. But I couldn’t. I knew what she’d do. She and Dad would be in the principal’s office so fast it would make my head spin. They’d probably get the police involved. Everyone would know. I felt sick just thinking about it.

  So, instead, I’d made up some lame excuse about my car not starting and a friend taking a look at it for me. She hadn’t even questioned it. And I’d spent the rest of the night cramming math facts until my brain was too tired to think anymore.

  The thoughts were catching up with me now, though. Lots of them. Each more frightening than the next. I had chemistry today. I had chemistry every day, which meant I’d have to see Mr. Parson. Every. Day.

  There was no way I was making it through the day without vomiting, but I couldn’t just stop showing up to class. And three months into the school year, there was no way they’d let me switch classes without a damn good excuse.

  Balancing the rose in my cup holder, I folded the sheet of paper and slipped it in my pocket. Maybe holding Elijah’s promise close would make it true.

  ***

  “Rylie!” Carrie nearly tackled me at my locker. I couldn’t understand why the girl had never gone out for cheerleading. She had more pep than the rest of the school put together. “What are you doing this weekend? Ang and I were thinking about getting together to—”

  “You don’t have gym today.” Angie joined us, her eyes locked on the plain ponytail I’d pulled my hair into that morning.

  I got it. Ponytails were lazy, used only in cases of necessity. Like for working out or running laps. I’d gotten as far as plugging in my curling iron that morning before abandoning the effort. Not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to myself. Maybe if I were uglier . . .

  “Yeah, well, you keep scowling like that, it’ll give you wrinkles.”

  Angie narrowed her eyes at me then proceeded to smooth out her expression.

  “I woke up late. I was in a hurry.”

  “You’re not kidding.” Carrie tugged playfully on my hair. “It’s still wet.”

  “I know.” Her touch sent a shiver down my spine and I jerked away, feeling the damp strands whip against my cheek.

  I sought Elijah out in the hallways as we moved from class to class, but we never crossed paths. At some point, Carrie had finished laying out their plan for the weekend and I’d agreed to tag along, though I hadn’t heard a word of it. I needed to see Elijah. With every passing bell, final period drew closer and my stomach knotted tighter.

  I was contemplating the ramifications of going to the nurse and getting sent home sick—I wouldn’t have even had to lie about it—as I made my way across the cafeteria, flanked by Angie and Carrie. And there he was. Leaning against the far wall, legs crossed at the ankle and arms folded over his chest, he looked to all the world like he hadn’t a care. But his face was tight. His eyes constantly scanned the room while he chatted with one of his friends until he spotted me.

  The whole world seemed to freeze. I know I did when Angela nearly knocked me over, slamming into my back. And so did Elijah. Mid-sentence, I assumed, from the way his mouth hung open and Declan turned to see what it was that distracted him.

  We didn’t approach each other. We didn’t say anything. But when his lips slowly curled upward in that too-sexy-to-be-legal smile of his, I could feel his words burning in my pocket.

  Everything will be alright now. I promise.

  It would be. I didn’t know how. I just knew that Elijah would be there. He’d promised. And I trusted h
im.

  “Are you coming?” Angie’s gaze flicked from me to Elijah and back again, and that wrinkle inducing scowl reappeared. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “What?” I recovered, somewhat unimpressively, breaking whatever spell he’d cast on me, and headed for our usual table at the front of the cafeteria. Purposely sitting with my back to him.

  “Don’t you what me.” Angie plopped down across from me and pulled out the sectioned Tupperware that contained her apple slices, carrot sticks, ranch dressing, grape tomatoes, and walnuts. Brain food, she called it. In my opinion, the girl needed a little more sugar in her life. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so sour all the time. “You know he’s trouble.”

  He certainly looked the part in his black jeans, worn leather coat, and I-couldn’t-give-a-damn, sexy-as-hell hair that brushed along the underside of his jaw in dire need of a trim. Okay, yes, he was definitely trouble. But not the kind Angie was warning me about. She was judging him based on things that couldn’t have mattered less. Not on who he was. She didn’t even know him. She had no clue that the real kind of trouble was dressed in slacks and button downs, standing at the front of a classroom.

  “Trouble or not, I still think he’s hot as hell.” Carrie waggled her fingers in his direction and I choked back a laugh, wondering what his reaction to that would be.

  ***

  By the time eighth period rolled around, I was desperately hoping that our weekend plans included a manicure. I’d bitten all of my nails down to the quick. Chastising myself for a serious lack of self-control, I made my way toward Mr. Parson’s room at the pace of a grandma snail. Five feet shy of the door, I came to a stop.

  Maybe I didn’t need to go today. Just one more day. Maybe another week. I could think of something. The student body continued to flow around me like a rock in a river. I was jostled this way and that, but never made it any closer to the classroom. I’d played hookie before. Once. In fifth grade, because Carrie had dared me to. It wasn’t so bad—minus the whole borderline stroke I had the entire forty minutes. I could do it again.

  A heavy hand landed on my shoulder and I jumped a mile.