by Clare Kauter
“How are you, James?” asked Elliot.
“Never better,” said James, in a surprisingly curt tone. Usually he was exceedingly polite to everyone – except for me, obviously. He was a douche to me. I suspected his current lack of courteous veneer had something to do with all the wine he’d been drinking. I wondered why he disliked Elliot so much. He obviously wasn’t jealous that I was flirting with Elliot, seeing as he’d admitted he just wanted us to be friends. Maybe he wasn’t used to having competition for hottest guy on the table. I mean, Joe and Os were both adorable in their own ways, but not in an ‘oofta, hello sailor’ kind of way.
That’s totally a thing people say. Stop looking at me like I’m a weirdo.
“The three of us should probably talk cheerleading,” said Elliot. “You know, discuss the case while we can.”
“Good idea,” I said.
James took another swig of his wine. I frowned at him, concerned. He was not pacing himself at all.
“Obviously we need to figure out a way to make Chelsea like Charlie,” said Elliot. “Now, since I know Chelsea pretty well and we get along –”
“I would have thought she was a bit too old for you, Elliot,” said James. “Isn’t Chelsea sixteen already?”
There had been a lull in conversation when James had said that and now the entire table was staring at him open-mouthed – including me. Like I said, James was not the kind of person to make rude comments at a dinner party. This was not like him at all.
“James,” Celia said, open-mouthed. “What the...”
James shrugged and leant back in his chair. Elliot sighed.
“James doesn’t like me, as you guys might have noticed. He didn’t approve of me dating Charlie when we were younger,” said Elliot.
“When she was younger,” said James. “A lot younger.”
“Yes, James. You made your feelings very clear at the time.”
I glared at James. “He what?”
James just shrugged. “I stand by that. It was creepy.”
My god, did everyone who’d known about me dating Elliot now think of him as Creepy Elliot? The age gap wasn’t even that big!
Elliot sighed and shook his head. “It wasn’t like that.”
James didn’t reply and the awkward silence grew.
Then came a knock at the door. I launched out of my chair and practically flew to the door. I threw it open and found Adam standing in front of me.
“Thank Aphrodite,” I breathed.
“For my beauty?”
“You need to get me out of here,” I whispered. “Pretend there’s a work emergency.
He frowned, but looked amused at the same time. “What’s up?”
I sighed. “James just all but accused my ex-boyfriend of being a paedophile.”
Adam raised his eyebrows. “That sounds like fun. Mind if I join?”
“No,” I said.
“Brilliant,” he said, pushing past me.
“I meant no, you’re not allowed in,” I said, chasing after him.
“Charlie, there’s no way you’re keeping me away from something this exciting,” he said and strode into the dining room with me trailing behind him. “Good evening, everyone. I hear this is shaping up to be quite the party.”
“Sorry, guys,” I said. “There’s been an emergency at work. I have to go.”
Adam looked across at me. I screamed at him with my eyes, pleading with him to back me up.
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” said Adam the Betrayer. “It’s all under control.”
“Are you sure?” I asked through gritted teeth. “I don’t mind leaving.”
“Certain,” Adam said, smiling. He turned to Elliot. “You must be Elliot. I’ve heard all about you.”
Great. Tim had already filled him in on what had happened after my science class. I should have known.
Elliot shook his hand. “Uh, yes. Sorry, I don’t know who you are.”
“I’m Adam, Charlie’s boss,” Adam replied, still smiling. “I hear you’re a bit of a creep.”
Oh, dear god. Why me? Aphrodite, back me up here.
Elliot looked shocked and stammered, “Uh... I – I’m not feeling very well.” He pushed up from the table. “I think I should probably go.”
“You should,” said James.
Adam looked impressed at James’s sudden arseholish behaviour. Naturally that would be the kind of thing Adam found endearing about a person. I glared at James and followed Elliot to the door.
“Sorry about them,” I said. “Adam likes stirring people up, and James...”
He shook his head. “It’s fine. I get it. James is just looking out for you. I guess he feels like he has to do what your brother would do if he was still around.”
“Yes,” I said stiffly, trying not to look grossed out. “James is just like a brother to me.”
Elliot smiled and kissed me on the forehead. (If you’re wondering, it wasn’t like being attacked by a squid’s suction cup at all. He’d clearly picked up some skills in the last five years.) “Goodnight.”
When I walked back into the dining room, Adam was sitting in Elliot’s chair chatting with James. I sat next to him and he turned to me. “I can’t believe you tried to kick me out without letting me meet your creepy ex-boyfriend.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s not a creep.”
“He is,” said the entire table in unison.
I scowled at them all. They didn’t even know him! OK, he had been a little older than me when we’d dated, but he wasn’t that bad.
I was almost sure of it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The woman who picked me up for my training the next morning was definitely ex-military, and she did not seem to appreciate the fact that my legs were in no fit state to run after yesterday’s three hours of exercise followed by my hike home after school. Not to mention the pain in my head from the bottle or so of wine I’d downed after Elliot left thanks to James McKenzie – although whether it was because I was angry because I had a thing for James or because he’d been mean to Elliot I wasn’t sure. Either way, it had translated into one impressive hangover.
“I can’t believe they hired you! If it was up to me, I’d fire you right now for being so pathetic!” the trainer yelled as I hobbled along behind her, trying to keep pace with her and failing.
“I told you,” I said through gritted teeth, “I did an extra hour of exercise yesterday and my legs are a little stiff.”
She huffed. “God, why couldn’t I be training that lovely secretary fellow again this morning?” she muttered. “He was brilliant yesterday. Didn’t complain once.”
I narrowed my eyes. John, the secretary who was trying to steal my job, also happened to be a faster runner and a better person to train then me? That was not on. I gritted my teeth and forced my legs to work faster. John would not beat me. I couldn’t give them reason to replace me permanently.
I nearly died roughly seventeen times on the way to the gym. The only slightly good thing about working out with this terrifying human was that when we got to the gym it was arm day. Finally I could give my legs a rest.
Frowning, the woman (who refused to tell me her name, insisting that I hadn’t earned that knowledge and I should call her ma’am) flicked through the sheets of paper on the clipboard where my trainers recorded my exercise and progress. “It seems that in the past your training has been heavily skewed towards self-defence.”
I didn’t say anything to her, but I suspected that the reason for that was because my personality was heavily skewed towards needing self-defence.
The woman spent the entire morning making me do weights, muttering “pathetic” every time I failed some new impossible task she’d set for me. After what seemed like ten hours, I was finally done. I ran to the showers to get away from Ma’am. Well, I say ‘ran’ – to be honest, it was more of a determined shuffle. My legs were really not loving the extra exercise.
I slipped into the shower, whimpering at the p
ain in my muscles and head and the nausea in my stomach. After vomiting twice, I felt a little better and (after cleaning up) I put on my uniform and brushed my teeth. I wasn’t up to eating breakfast, so I simply picked up my lunch from the cafeteria and then met Tim in the car park downstairs. I was tempted to visit the guy who’d stolen my job, but I didn’t know if I could handle it in my current state. I wanted to be in top fighting form next time I ran into him.
Tim drove me to school and dropped me off around the corner like last time. I walked to my first class, dreading what was coming. As though my morning hadn’t been bad enough already – following the night of The Worst Dinner Party Ever TM –my first class of the day was maths with Mucus. Her real name was Ms Lucas, but when I was at school everyone had called her Mucus for short. She was scary and evil and a maths teacher, which was maybe the worst combination of traits a person could have.
As I walked into the classroom and took my seat, I tried to comfort myself with the knowledge that at least I didn’t have a PE class today. I don’t think I could have pretended not to hate James after last night. First he confessed that he didn’t really like me, then he spent all night trying to tear down the one guy who might have actually been interested in me. He’d behaved like such a dick that Celia ended up kicking him out before dessert, which was extra bad considering that she agreed with what he was saying. That was when I’d started on the wine, which now that I was in a maths class after hours of exercise seemed like kind of a bad idea. The painkillers I’d taken when I left work had done nothing and now my stomach had begun to churn again. That could have just been my allergy to maths, though.
The second Mucus started talking in her high-pitched, nasal voice, I wished for the maths class to be over. Then I remembered what class I had second period and I wasn’t so sure that I wanted time to speed up.
“Charlotte, are you even paying attention?” screeched the Banshee.
I swallowed. Clearly Mucus wasn’t familiar with undercover operations. She’d all but announced that she already knew me, even though as far as any of the other students knew, this was the first time I’d ever met her. Luckily no one seemed to cotton on.
“Of course I’m listening,” I said. “You’re talking about numbers.”
She narrowed her eyes at me and I suddenly found myself mentally pleading with Aphrodite again. Uh, Medusa died thousands of years ago, right? I’m not actually in danger from Mucus glaring at me, am I?
Aphrodite didn’t reply. I suppressed a gulp.
“You can come back here at lunch time.”
“A lunch date?” I said. “I’m flattered, but I don’t really know if I want to hang out with you more.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn I saw Chelsea giggle at my response. Bingo. I’d figured out how to get her to like me: talk back to horrible teachers.
“Detention!” Mucus screamed, looking pissed.
I grimaced. Talking back to her probably hadn’t been a great idea, but she knew I wasn’t really a student. I guess I hadn’t been expecting her to put me on detention, but I should have known better. She was a real-life Professor Umbridge. She’d probably make me carve lines into my skin.
“I’ve never understood detention,” I said, hoping to get another laugh out of Chelsea. “If you’re so annoyed with me, why do you want to spend more time with me?”
Chelsea snorted with laughter. She regained her composure after a moment, but it was too late.
“Chelsea, you can join Charlotte in detention.”
Chelsea looked devastated, yet somehow furious at the same time. She looked back down at her workbook and mumbled an apology. Good to know that Mucus was still terrorising students just as much as she had back in my day.
Throughout the class, Mucus constantly called on me to answer questions she already knew full-well I couldn’t answer because she’d been my maths teacher at high school and she hadn’t taught me properly in the first place. She gave us roughly seven and a half hours’ worth of homework for that night and glared at me as I left the room.
When I was back out in the corridor, some of the anger subsided and the panic set in as I remembered what class I had second period. Oh, crap. Science. I was going to have to face Elliot after last night. My stomach became unsettled again. What was I meant to say to him? Would he be OK? Everyone had been so vile to him last night, acting like I really was his student and not just pretending to be. Why did everyone think it was so weird that I had dated Elliot when they didn’t care that I’d been friends with Will McKenzie who was exactly the same age as Elliot and a known drug user? Something about McKenzie’s law – they could do no wrong.
My anger helped me deal with the nerves a little as I walked into the classroom and sat at the same desk as the previous day. I clenched and unclenched my fists, hoping that Elliot would be able to stay professional despite everything that had happened the night before. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he hated me now. After all, all of my friends had basically called him a creep to his face. I’d imagine that would be kind of offensive.
However, when he walked in, today in a pale blue button-up shirt and bone-coloured pants, he grinned just as wide as the day before.
“Morning, all!” he said.
Everyone murmured their greetings.
“You guys just had maths, right?” he said.
Everyone nodded, making it very clear how they felt about first period maths.
“Thought so. That’s why today, we’re going to be watching a documentary!”
The class cheered. Not real school work! Yay!
He handed out worksheets with questions about the documentary, starting on the other side of the room and ending with me. When he handed me the piece of paper, our hands touched and we made eye contact. He smiled warmly and winked at me before walking back to the front of the room and putting the documentary on.
I frowned, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He hadn’t seemed all that cut up about what had transpired the night before. In fact, he’d seen positively chipper. Flirty, even. What was going on? Did he not care about everyone playing the creep card? Maybe he was just that secure in the knowledge that he wasn’t a weirdo (no matter what people said) that it hadn’t bothered him. Or maybe he was that used to being called a creep that it didn’t faze him.
Maybe I needed to ask Tim to do a background check on Elliot. Normal people would have been bothered by what happened last night, right? Oh god, what if James was right?
I watched the documentary and filled out the worksheet, trying to concentrate on the questions but not having much success. The Elliot thing was bothering me too much. Maybe he just didn’t want me to feel weird about everything. Maybe he was just being a nice guy. Or maybe I was falling for his ‘nice guy’ act and he really was a creep. In hindsight, it did sound creepy that a man who was now a teacher had dated a fourteen year old when he was at university. But surely I wasn’t that poor a judge of character. Although I had briefly thought that James McKenzie might have a thing for me, so... My stomach clenched at the thought of him. Please don’t let me run into him today, Aphrodite, I thought, reasoning that since she was the goddess of love, maybe she’d be able to swing that for me. You know, if she actually existed. Which she didn’t. I was screwed.
When the bell rang, I tried to pack up my stuff as fast as I could, but somehow I was still left alone in the room with Elliot. My heart pounded, and not in a good way.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I replied, not yet able to form a more complex sentence.
He smiled at me. “It’s OK,” he said. “Last night was weird, but it wasn’t your fault.”
I swallowed. “I’m sorry. Everyone was so...” Mean? Obnoxious? Right?
“Really, don’t worry about it,” he said. “I know it wasn’t your fault. The others just don’t understand me like you.”
The hackles on the back of my neck jumped to attention at that. Dear lord, that sounded so much li
ke the words that would jump from the mouth of someone grooming a child. Right? Or was I just being paranoid?
I laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, totally. They were just being, um, overprotective. I think all my friends still think of me as a kid, you know?”
“I don’t know why,” he said. “You’ve always been so mature.”
There wasn’t even a trace of sarcasm in his words. A shudder threatened to rake down my spine. Now he was just outright lying. Even I knew that I was immature. The fact that he didn’t think that was odd at best, sinister at worst.
“Yes, mature. Me. Very. That’s what everyone’s always saying.”
He smiled. “I feel like you’re the same as me. Everyone always misunderstands us.”
My hangover had returned in full force. Pounding head, churning stomach, blind panic – although that last one mightn’t have been related to the hangover. I wondered how Tim was feeling listening in on this. Did Elliot know I was wearing a wire? Judging by the things he was saying, I was guessing not.
“Totally,” I said. “Um, Elliot, I’m sorry about this but I’ve really got to go.”
He looked disappointed. “Oh, really?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve organised to meet a – a contact at recess. I need to get some information from him. Sorry. I have to go.”
He nodded. “Of course. No worries. You’d better go. I am sad that we don’t get much of a chance to talk, though.”
“Yeah, totally,” I said, already heading for the door.
“Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
“You look nice today.”
That was definitely not the right thing to say to a woman dressed in a school uniform if you were trying to dispel the rumours of you being a creep.
“Uh, thanks,” I said. “Bye!”
I slipped out the door, limping to the end of the corridor and out into the sunshine as fast as I could. I shivered in the cold despite the morning sun, wishing Elliot hadn’t made me so uncomfortable that I’d felt the need to bail and leave the heated science lab. Was I overreacting? Was Elliot acting like a normal person? Maybe I’d just been reading too much into what he was saying. He hadn’t said anything that was overtly weird. Maybe he was just being nice, trying to reignite an old flame.
