Schooled 4.0

by Deena Bright

  After a few hours of watching the girls play and writing my Madonna musical on my laptop (which by the way, is not going well at all), I decide to call the girls out of the pool. I allow them to stay outside, but not in the water while I go inside and make lunch. I promise them a poolside picnic with Smoothies and fresh fruit, which forces them to agree to sit and stare at the pool while I get lunch ready.

  As I’m putting the finishing touches on their peanut butter and banana sandwiches and traying up the food and drinks, I hear splashing—the definite sound of kidlets in the water, disobeying my rules. Pissed at the girls for not listening, I storm out to the pool, yelling at them for their total disregard for my rules, which is very unlike them in the first place. They are the epitome of rule-followers.

  Immediately, I see Kara soaring through the air while Carlee stands poolside clapping and shouting with glee. How can she be that high in the air? Then, I see Leo, happy, shirtless, in the water, laughing and carefree.

  “My turn, my turn!” Carlee squeals. Kara climbs out of the pool, while Carlee cannon-balls in and swims to Leo. He picks her up and catapults her into the air. She squeals with delight before making a splash into the deep end of the pool. It really is an adorable sight, but it doesn’t negate the fact by any stretch of the imagination that the girls blatantly disobeyed me. Being a teacher, I know firsthand how you must nip misbehavior at its onset, otherwise, you end up with worse behavioral issues with teenagers.

  “Carlee, Kara, get over here now!” They all three stop smiling and move abruptly, turning to look at me. “What did I tell you?” Both girls drop their heads and start swimming toward me.

  “Miss Garrity, I’m sorry, my fault. I told them that it would be okay.” Leo swims to the side of the pool, hoisting his body out of the water. His muscles ripple as he uses his upper body strength to get out. His skin’s glistening in the sun, wet and strong. I look away quickly. He definitely ignites feelings in me—feelings I should not be having for a former student. Then as if my mind wants to fuck with me, I immediately wonder what Briggs is doing. When did I become such a slut? Well, more like a wanna-be slut.

  Leo’s still trying to explain himself while I’m lost in my lustful imagination. “The girls were moping by the pool. I told them that I’d watch them.” He begins to explain, appearing adorably guilt-ridden. “I promise you, I was a certified lifeguard. I figured that’d be fine.” He explains apologetically. “I should’ve asked first. I’m sorry. It must’ve scared you.” He walks over to me dripping wet, without a towel. I permit myself one long look.

  I hand him my towel. “It’s okay, Leo, really,” I reply. Looking at Carlee and Kara, “Girls, I’m not mad; you should’ve just checked with me first,” I admonish, shaking my head and smiling. I just cannot be mad at those two love nuggets. “Come on girls. Lunch is ready.” I walk back in to Jasper’s pool house, my house, and get the food and Smoothies.

  Returning to the patio, I see the girls sitting at the table, wrapped in towels, remorsefully awaiting their lunches. Glancing down at the tray, I’m shocked to see that I’d made four of everything. I have four sandwiches, four Smoothies, and four fruit cups. Did I make four of everything out of habit, counting Marcus? Or had I just absently included Leo in our lunch plans, hoping he’d join us? It wasn’t typical for Marcus to join the girls and me or all the kids and me for a day of fun. He always considered a day that I was with my nieces and nephews as a day he could golf or go to some sports bar with his buddies. I know why I’d made enough for Leo to join us. It isn’t rocket science. I like his company. I want him to join us.

  “Hey Leo, you hungry? There’s plenty.” I call to him nonchalantly, putting all the food out on the table.

  “I thought you’d never ask. Starving. Where’s everyone else’s?” he asks as he pretends to put all the food in front of himself, acting like a ravenous monster eating up the food. The girls laugh and try to steal their food back from him. Marcus never once tried to develop any sort of relationship with my nieces. He saw them more as a burden than anything else.

  “Enough you three,” I scold, emphasizing the word three. “There’ll be plenty of play time for you kids once you eat your lunch.” He really is cute with the girls. I never understood the saying, “making your ovaries explode” until right now.

  “Yes Ma’am,” they all grumble. Leo looks over at me, smiling with a glint of humor in his eye. He winks at me and chuckles. Those dimples are going to be the death of me. Dimples should come with a warning… a warning and a condom.

  After lunch, the girls and Leo clean up the plates and cups, bringing everything back to the pool house. Insisting that I not lift a finger since I made the entire lunch and since they’d given me quite a scare, Leo persuades me to sit back on the chaise and relax, but I can’t help but watch as the girls are captivated my Leo’s charm, obeying his every order. They’re only six-years-old, but are entranced by him. It’s as if Justin Bieber himself is helping them clean up. They may have Bieber Fever, but I’m the one who can’t control my temperature.

  After dousing the girls in another gallon of sunscreen, they dive into the water, begging Leo to join them. Apologizing, he attempts to explain that he still has a lot of landscaping to finish, but did enjoy his afternoon with them. Carlee and Kara are relentless, not giving up that easily. Finally, he caves and offers an ultimatum, “I’ll play if your aunt will join us too.” That’s all it takes.

  The girls leap out of the pool, attempting to drag me into the water. I don’t budge and will not budge. “Help us Leo, Aunt Janelle’s too heavy,” they beg.

  “Hey, don’t call me heav—”

  Seconds later, Leo hoists me into his arms and jumps into the pool, holding me like a bride on her wedding night. We splash into the water. I’m laughing and sputtering; it isn’t a graceful water entrance. I got nothing on those Maybelline waterproof mascara chicks.

  With water up my nose and burning down my throat, I splash and kick at Leo. “You jerk, you could’ve warned me. I still have my watch on.” I hit his arm.

  “Ohhh, I didn’t know. Did I ruin it?” he asks, reaching for my wrist.

  I jump up on his shoulders, trying to dunk him, “Nah, it’s waterproof. What the heck? Go under!” I yell, pushing with all my might. He doesn’t move at all. It’s like trying to dunk a cement statue, bolted down with chains, bricked into cement. Dude doesn’t move.

  He laughs. “Are you trying to do something here?” he jabs, mocking me. Frustrated, I refuse to give up, still trying to trip him so he sinks down into the water. “Are you trying to do this?” he asks, grabbing me, lifting me with ease, and throwing me through the air. I haven’t been thrown into a pool since I was the girls’ age. It’s fun, really fun. Ahhh, to be young again. Coming up for air, I’m laughing, feeling happier and lighter than I’ve felt in a long time.

  The girls are yelling and clapping. I motion for the girls to throw their bucket to me and to come help. They grab the bucket, chuck it at me, and jump in right by Leo. We’re all splashing , dumping bucketfuls of water on him, at him.

  Leo, being a good sport, but feigning anger, steals the bucket and throws it poolside. Swimming over to me, he grabs my wrists, wraps his arms around me, and pins my hands to my back. His body presses against me, his arms securing me tightly. We’re laughing uncontrollably as he dunks me backward, pulling me immediately back up. He gives me a few seconds to breathe, before dipping me back under the water. Coming back out of the water the second time, I gasp for air, coughing a bit.

  Leo lets one of my arms free and wipes the water from my face. “You okay?” he asks with concern in his eyes, his smile fading, and his dimples disappearing. He’s holding me so close, looking at me as though I’m fragile, breakable, something to protect. My breath catches, and my eyes widen.

  “Uhhh Janelle, where are my girls?” Jocelyn’s standing by the pool’s steps, hands on her hips, questioning me about more things than just her girls. There’s more of a ques
tion of “what’s really going on here?” on her face. At that moment, I see the girls out of the corner of my eye. I distract Leo by motioning him toward the ladder to get out. The girls come running out of the bushes with the hose, blasting Leo right in the face with ice cold, hose water. He jumps out of the pool and charges at the girls, taking each one under each of his arms, kicking and screaming, as he jumps back in the water. The girls resurface with giggles and delight, marking the second time I understand the term “ovarian explosion.”

  Jocelyn cuts the fun short; she needs to get going. The boys need picked up from their soccer camp. The girls make Leo promise profusely that he’ll be there again to play with them. Reluctantly, they gather their stuff and go with Jocelyn, leaving Leo and me alone. Suddenly, I feel nervous, apprehensive about what’s to come.

  “Did I ever tell you about the time my parents were going to call the school and complain about you?” he asks as he gathers towels and bottles of sunscreen.

  “Ummm NO! About what? What did I do?” I’m floored. Parents never complain about me. I’m the coveted and glorified teacher. Parents beg guidance counselors to put their kids in my classes. Not the other way around. This is definitely news to me.

  Leo sits down on the top step of the pool, leaning back on the stairs’ handrail. He looks young with his hair wet, his damp skin glistening in the sunlight. Well, he is young. “Remember the time you told us that you didn’t really listen to music and everyone in the class went ballistic and asked what you did in the car then?” I get that same question every year in class. Teenagers just can’t understand that everyone doesn’t blast music at eardrum-breaking decibels while cruising down the street.

  “Well, you said, ‘I either talk on my cell or listen to Howard Stern,’” he explains. That is the truth, I never do anything else. “That Christmas, I asked my parents for a subscription to Sirius satellite radio. I wanted Howard too.”

  Everyone should really get to start their days with Howard Stern. Howard is my happy wake up; he’s better than Starbucks in the morning.

  Leo continues, “My parents were pissed. They said that you condoning Howard Stern was a bad influence on me.” I can’t believe I’m just hearing about this.

  “But I never TOLD you to get Howard Stern. I never even talked about what he said or did on the radio. I just said that’s what I did instead of listening to music.” I explain, totally freaking out. I don’t want the Clings to think that I’m trying to persuade my students to partake in deviant behavior. Howard’s a radio comedian in my opinion. I love him.

  “I know, I know. Relax. I convinced them to leave it alone,” his voice softens as he tries to ease my concern. “I didn’t get Sirius back then. They wouldn’t hear of it. I have it now though. It’s good stuff.” He’s smiling at me, but I feel awful. I hated that I caused friction in his family and that his parents thought that I was a bad influence. I don’t want parents to think poorly of me. Maybe I should stop hanging out with my hot, young male students then. Former students.

  I sit down next do Leo on the other side of the handrail, “So, do they hate me now?” I feel like such a loser.

  “No, they like that I’m doing work for you now. They still show all of their friends that scrapbook you made us do.” Leo picks up the water in his hands and squirts it out of his fist. “They ended up thinking you were pretty cool, just like everyone does.” He’s not looking at me, just staring down at his hands, watching the water fly through the air.

  “Well that’s good. I guess I redeemed myself at some point, right?” I question. He’s so easy to talk to. I feel like we’ve been friends since childhood.

  “I remember when I first thought that you were the cutest teacher on Earth,” he admits.

  I cut him off, “If you say one word about my baby costume…”

  Leo laughs, “Oh no, that costume is when I decided I needed to start studying the female anatomy.” A look of raw animal lust quickly crosses his face. “Man, I knew as soon as I saw you in that getup that I had to know exactly how and what to do if I ever got the chance to unzip it.” His look is faraway and reminiscent. “I studied my ass off. Kelsey never even evoked that kind of reaction from me.” He confesses so matter-of-factly.

  “Leo!” I shriek. I can’t believe Leo Cling of all people just said something like that to me.

  “What? You can’t fault me for that. It was so… so… I don’t know, crazy sexy.” He doesn’t look embarrassed or nervous saying that to me at all. I wonder why. “Miss Garrity, it’s all anyone talked about, guys that is,” he says. Turning toward me, he looks perplexed, “That’s what I couldn’t figure out. Girls knew we were talking about how hot it was, but every time they get a chance to wear costumes, they dress like trashy whores. I never got that.” He looks truly baffled, shaking his head in disbelief. “I still don’t get it.” Leo’s smarter than most boys—men—I talk to. He has wisdom that’s refreshing and pensive at the same time. He’s wise beyond his years.

  “Okay, remind me that if I ever find that costume in my boxes of junk to shred it and then burn the pile to ashes.” I shake my head, defeated and baffled.

  “I’ll pay you 500 bucks for it,” he offers. “It’d probably go for 10 grand on Ebay if you model it.” Holy fuck. Leo’s got mad skills in the complimentary department.

  Continuing, he says, “Anyway, remember when we were doing Macbeth?”

  How could I forget? It’s the worst part of the senior curriculum. They say that Shakespeare is timeless, but try telling that to teenagers in 2014, while they sit deciphering archaic language simultaneously. It’s a freaking nightmare. “You must’ve told us a hundred times that you were only a few steps ahead of us, because it was not only the first time you’d taught it, but the first time you actually read it too.” It was. I had no idea what I was doing.

  “I remember.” I groan. I butchered my Macbeth lessons that year. It’s a wonder I didn’t get fired after that unit. I had no idea what I was talking about.

  “We got to that part when Lady Macbeth says those lines about ‘given suck’ and some kid asked how she knew what that felt like to nurse a baby if they didn’t have kids.” Leo laughs at the memory, amused. Man, seniors can be idiots. They just can’t leave things alone.

  “You didn’t know. You spent almost the entire week trying to figure it out,” he recalls, with a look of amazement on his face. “You asked all the other English teachers, and they didn’t know.” Leo shakes his head and smiles at me. “You then called one of your college professors from Ohio State to get the answer. Remember?” Leo seems almost awestruck retelling the story.

  Oh, I remember. I was such an idiot back then. Leo’s referring to Act I Scene vii, when Lady Macbeth says:

  I have given suck, and know

  How tender ‘tis to love the babe that milks me:

  I would, while it was smiling in my face,

  Have pluck’d my nipple from his boneless gums,

  And dash’d the brains out, had I so sworn as you

  Have done to this.

  Lady Macbeth is basically trying to persuade her husband to keep a promise he made to her, by guilting him into doing so. Isn’t that what all wives want anyway? To ensure that their husbands keep their promises, their vows? Well, in her case, she’s a power-hungry bitch who wanted her husband to kill the King for her, but that’s beside the point. I just wanted mine to keep the promise that he made on our wedding day—to not fuck other chicks.

  Anyway, nobody cared about Macbeth, probably hadn’t in the last century, but I had to teach it. Well, I ‘d just explained to my students that Macbeth was destined to never have children, and some smartass kid said, “Who was she breast-feeding then?” I had no freaking idea. I was new, wanted to educate my students, educate myself. So, I spent nearly forever trying to figure it out. Instead of just telling the kid to read and move on, I wanted to find out for him. The only remotely valid answer I ever got was, “Historians believed that Lady Macbeth was marrie
d and mothered children before marrying Macbeth.” What the heck kind of answer was that and where were these previous kids in the play? I had no idea.

  “I loved how passionate you got about finding the answer for us. Most teachers would’ve said that it didn’t matter, but you didn’t give up. It was cool,” he compliments. Then surprising me entirely, he adds, “I also liked hearing you say ‘nipples’ all the time.” Leo chuckles. I kick water at him. “Hey, I was 17; my hot teacher was saying ‘nipples,” he confesses. One thing that I’ve learned for sure in the last few weeks is that I had no idea how little it took to turn on 17-year-old boys. And here, I just thought I was teaching English.

  It was starting to get late. I told Jasper that I’d cook dinner at his house for him. He had things he wanted to talk to me about. I explain to Leo that I need to get a shower and go to the “main house.” We both laugh at “main house.” Leo says that he needs to get going as well, explaining that he feels guilty for wasting an entire day playing in the pool, instead of doing the landscaping for Jasper. I don’t admit that Jasper will be pissed, but I’ll handle Jasper.

  Leo gets out of the pool first, grabbing a towel for me, holding it out like a mother holds a towel for her child when the kid gets out of the water. I hesitate momentarily, and then walk into the cloth as Leo wraps the towel and his strong arms around me. My arms are pinned against my sides, trapped inside the towel. I’m afraid to look up, into his eyes, at those cherubic dimples. I pause, then slowly look up at him. He rubs my arms, up and down my arms and shoulders, drying me off and staring at me the entire time. When he asks if I’m warm enough; I nod, licking my lips, not taking my eyes from him. I wait.