Schooled 4.0

by Deena Bright

  “Strings attached!” How cute is that?

  JASPER AND I go on a late afternoon run as my “thank you gift” to him for the New York trip. He’s been relentlessly bugging me about working out more… well working out at all. I throw him a bone and run a few miles with him—without someone chasing us, I might add. Once I’m winded, cramped, and watching my life flash before my eyes in slow-motion vignettes, I breathe out in barely a gasp that I’m heading back.

  Jasper simply smirks, and says, “Whatever Loser, I’m going six more.” Fuck him and his six more. The only six I’m about to do is six-feet under if I don’t sit down soon.

  Running—well nearly crawling—up to the house, I notice a car in the drive, and to my dismay, Vince, Briggs’ jit-bag friend, is sitting on the hood of his car. What the fuck is he doing here? Hopefully, he’s dropping off something for Briggs.

  Leery and cautious, I approach his car. “Hey Vince,” I even hate the feel of his name on my lips. It tastes bitter, sour, vomit-inducing. “What’s up?”

  Getting off the hood of the car, he looks me up and down, eyeing me like prey. I suddenly feel very uncomfortable and ill at ease. I hope that Jasper’s six miles will be lightning fast. Vince saunters up to me, taking slow deliberate strides. “Nothing really, just thought I’d stop by and maybe see what all the fuss is about.”

  Stepping back, regaining my personal space, I question, “Fuss, what fuss?”

  “You’ve got my boy Briggs all fucked up. You’re like his poison, can’t seem get enough of your ‘apple’ pie,” he says, chuckling at his stupid joke. Vince leans in closer, taking a strand of my hair and twirling it around his finger. He chuckles, a snide and eerie sound. “I thought maybe you’d let me see what Briggs and that fag, Leo, are all hyped up about.” He runs his finger around the edge of my sports bra.

  Slapping his hand away and walking backward, I roar with vehemence, “Vince, what the fuck is wrong with you? Get the Hell off my property.” I’m raging with anger and fear, screaming.

  He accosts me, putting his hand over my mouth, silencing me. “Listen here bitch, I will fucking ruin you so fast, you won’t know black from white. You better shut your goddamn mouth.”

  Vince grabs my neck, tightening his grip around my throat. He bites my earlobe as I shriek in pain, trying to squirm out of his clutches. His fast, panting breaths are hot on my neck. I use every ounce of strength I have and elbow him in the ribs with a force I didn’t know I possessed. His grasp on me releases slightly, but just enough for me to break free and run into my house, locking the door.

  I run to the window and pull the curtains. As I peek through the crack in the blind, I see him punch the hood of his car, swearing loudly. Finally, he gets in his car and speeds backward out of the driveway.

  What the fuck was that all about? Terrified, I call Char, with terrified abandon, screaming “Armageddon” over and over in the phone. Within in ten minutes, Char and I are sitting on the couch, replaying the incident word by word, second by second. Char begs me to call Briggs and let him know what his ass-face friend just did, but I’m even too terrified to do that. Vince knows where I live. Causing friction between them will only anger him more. Char plans to cut off his balls and feed them to him for dinner. She’s raging, ready to kill him. My heart races with fear.

  A few hours later, Sarah texts me, saying that needs to stop by. Since I want her to meet Char, I welcome the distraction. I’m glad that she’ll be over shortly, because I need a little help in the “calming down” category.

  Even though I’m expecting her the knock at the door makes me jump, startling and spooking me. Char gets up and looks to see Sarah and Leo both on the porch. They pulled into the drive at the same time. When Char lets them in, they both look nervous and upset. I can sense their trepidation.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, looking from one to the other. Leo pulls me into his arms, and kisses the top of my head, obviously ignoring the looks from Sarah and Char. “Seriously, guys, what’s up?” I ask, releasing myself from his embrace.

  “Janelle,” Sarah starts, “Are you friends with Vince Bentley on Facebook? Do you follow him on Twitter?” Her question immediately terrifies me. Why is she bringing that fuck-tart up now of all times? I defer to Char. I can’t speak.

  Char screams, “Why? Why? Tell me! What the fuck did that bastard do?” She’s standing, screaming in Sarah’s face. I pull her back, because she can seriously be scary at times.

  “Ummm,” Sarah stammers, looking to Leo for help.

  “Janelle…”

  “What Leo? Tell me,” I plead, holding his shirt for support.

  Leo hands me his phone. His Twitter is up, and I crumble when I read the words:

  Janelle Garrity plays favorites in the classroom & BEDROOM just ask her former student boy toys. #Couldntmakethegrade.

  “Facebook, show me Facebook,” I yell. Nobody moves. “Show me the fucking Facebook post.” They look from one to the other, all three afraid to move. Finally, Sarah steps forward, reluctantly offering me her phone.

  Right there, for all the world to see is the picture Vince sent to Briggs with the caption:

  From British Lit to Sex Ed, this teacher does it all, and I mean all.

  My finger is in Leo’s mouth. A look of passion and desire clearly depicted on both of our faces.

  “I’m ruined,” I say, crumpling to the floor. All three slump down next to me, consoling me. When there’s a pounding on the door, Char and Leo both bolt to get it, to protect me from whatever may be on the other side.

  The second they open the door, Briggs barges through, “Where is she?” he asks, looking around the room. Seeing me, he drops to the floor, wrapping his arms around me. “Fuck Janelle, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” I cry into his shoulder, not caring that three other sets of eyes are on us. He holds me, rocking me slowly. Briggs just keeps repeating, “I’m going to fix this,” and “I’ll fucking kill him,” alternating the two phrases over and over again—like a mantra, a promise, a vow to everyone within earshot.

  Char relays the story to all of them about what occurred earlier with Vince. Leo and Sarah are shocked and disgusted. Briggs leaps up. He’s raging, heading straight for the door, screaming, “That mother fucker is dead.”

  Leo restrains Briggs, forcing him back onto the couch. Briggs is ready to kill Vince. Sarah and I can’t believe that little Leo Cling has the strength and courage to hold Briggs back. He certainly isn’t a little boy anymore. Crew team. Wow, it works miracles.

  Once Briggs calms down, Leo confronts him, “Relax man, beating the shit out of that fucker is only going to fuel his fire. Who knows what he’ll do next?” Leo pauses and looks over at us. “We need to think this through, do nothing irrational, especially something that would make you look guilty, Janelle.” I nod, knowing that he’s right—the voice of rational reason.

  Briggs counters, “I want him to know he can’t fuck with her, nobody fucks with my…” he stops, realizing all eyes are on him. His what? Leo’s shoulders slump. Briggs, backpedals and finishes, “Nobody fucks with my teacher.”

  I laugh, nearly uncontrollably. It’s what I do when I’m uncomfortable and awkwardly the center of attention. Char throws a pillow at me, trying to shut me up. I just bury my head in the pillow and cry, cry for my mistakes, cry for my future, and cry for all the hearts that I’m breaking—especially my own.

  Char takes over, “Leo’s right. We just can’t go kill him. Believe me Briggs, I want to do exactly that. Fucker deserves it.” Sarah agrees with Char and Leo. Briggs knows he’s outnumbered and calms a bit. Based on his body language, we can all tell he isn’t happy. None of us are.

  Leo seems uncomfortable, completely out of sorts with himself, with the company, and the environment. “Janelle, I’m going to get going. Call me if you need anything.” He looks so sad, so sorry for all that has transpired. I start to get up. He puts up his hand, “Don’t get up, I’ll call you later,” he says. Sarah and Char wal
k him out, leaving Briggs and me alone.

  “So, what all did you tell him, Briggs?” I ask. Did he tell Vince all about our “lessons,” our intimate secrets, secrets I already told Char? How can I be mad? I opened my mouth to Char, Hell to Sarah and Leo too. As much as I want to blame Briggs, I know it really isn’t his fault.

  “I swear, nothing really,” he says. “That first night when I saw you at Last Stop, he went with me to get your car. That night, I told him about dancing with you, but nothing else.” Resting his head in his hands and then rubbing his head, he groans, “But then, that morning he stopped over to get his clubs, he must’ve… Shit, this is all my fault.”

  “Briggs, this is just as much my fault as anyone’s,” I explain. I pull his hands away from his face, “Look at me, it takes two…” I look away, embarrassed. The truth hurts. Everyone knows that. “Vince didn’t post anything that wasn’t true.” I shake my head, hating myself for having to make this confession.

  “So, you and Leo?”

  I nod slowly, feeling guilty. He drops his head, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I know, ‘No Strings Attached’ right?”

  “A lot of good that did me,” I joke, sarcastically and remorsefully.

  Char and Sarah come back in, both of them eyeing us suspiciously. Char decides that she’s hungry and wants pizza and beer. “Lots of it,” she emphasizes.

  Sarah and Briggs both jump on the order. They’re starving, too. Why do personal tragedies always turn in to a social gathering around food? I don’t know, nor do I care. I’m just thankful I have people to get through this with and as always, pizza and beer sound great, just another reason to drown out my woes.

  Since Sarah has two free pizza coupons for pickup only, she offers to run to get beer and pick up the pizza, needing to stop by the ATM on the way. Char and Briggs both volunteer to go with her, waving them off, she says it isn’t necessary. She makes us all laugh by claiming that she was a big girl and not some “dumb chick who has to travel in packs.” Char high-fives her. I can tell that Char already digs Sarah. Sarah’s so likeable. I can’t imagine anyone not taking to her.

  As she’s leaving, Sarah picks up the guitar sitting by the kitchen table, “Briggs, I didn’t know you still played…” she reveals.

  He laughs, “Nah, not really much anymore, just when I have a lot on my mind,” he adds. For the first time since I’ve ever known Briggs, he looks shy and insecure.

  “You play the guitar?” I ask, incredulously.

  “Does he play? He’s fucking awesome,” Sarah announces. “We took lessons at the same place. I took violin; he took guitar. His timeslot was right before mine.” Briggs grins, bashfully, his shoulders hunch. Briggs Alexander is being modest? No way! “You should hear him. I always thought he was better at guitar than football.” She laughs and waves as she leaves to get the pizza.

  That shakes him out of it, “Hey! That’s not true,” he blurts. “Football was my thing, my only thing. My parents said that I had to put as much time into music as I did into football,” he admits, defending himself. How is it that I know nothing about my students and thought I knew everything? “I had to take lessons once a week for eight suck-ass years.”

  “You took lessons for eight years?” I can’t believe this. “So take the guitar for yourself, start playing again.” I grab the guitar, forcing it into his hands.

  “I never quit playing. I have three guitars at home,” he confesses. He hands the guitar back to me, “I just figured that if we ever got, I don’t know, like bored, I could teach you some time.” His smile is slight, unsure.

  “You bought her a guitar?” Char is shocked. “So you could teach her?” Briggs nods. I can tell that she’s going to continue to grill him, making him more uncomfortable than he already is.

  “Yeah Char,” I say, giving her the “shut the fuck up” look. Defeated, she plops down on the chair, waving me off. “That was the plan. Are you planning to teach me to be a ventriloquist too? Tennis?” I ask, sardonically.

  He grins, shaking his head, “Nah, I suck at tennis. You’d probably beat me. And the puppet, that was just to be funny.” Now, it’s funny. Then, it was creepy and spooky… until the roses came.

  Char’s eyeing us again. She and I definitely need some alone girl time. She can’t be kept in the dark too long, otherwise, she’ll find another way to get answers to her questions. Char can pry things out of people better than anyone I’ve ever met. She should’ve gone into the FBI, CIA, or something like that, been someone who intimidates the fuck out of someone until disclosure occurs. She always gets her answers.

  Briggs, Char, and I sat in the living room discussing what my next plan of action would be regarding Vince and his slanderous posts on Twitter and Facebook. Damn social networks. Char thought that professionally I should just ignore it, but slash his tires for revenge. Briggs didn’t know what to think or say about my career, but thought that I should let him beat Vince to a bloody, gory pulp. It’s evident that these two aren’t going to be much help, other than by cheering me up and taking my mind off things.

  Jasper and Jocelyn will be my best bets for advice, and maybe my school union representative, if it comes to that. It’ll come to that. The school will find out. They monitor all that social media bullshit. They have ways of finding out everything. I just know it—can feel it.

  Leo. Leo will probably have an idea of what to do, too. He’s intelligent and level-headed. Me? What do I want to do? Crawl in a hole and die, wish the whole thing away. Yeah, then I can fly away on a purple unicorn named Osborne with fairies flying out my butt…

  Strangely, I become keenly aware of the situation, mainly the scene and seating situation. Here I am in a total state of personal panic and possible career ruin, and I’m sitting alone in my house with my best friend and my… my… what did Vince call him? My boy-toy. Char’s sprawled out on the double-sized chair, and I’m snuggled up on the floor, with my head in Briggs’ lap. This looks entirely too intimate, like he’s my boyfriend, there to comfort me with my best friend in my time of need. This certainly isn’t at all an example of “No Strings Attached.”

  “So guys, we don’t have much time until Sarah gets back,” I start. They both look at me quizzically. “We need to plan your rendezvous,” I conspire. When they still look perplexed, I clarify, “Your hookup, fooling around for me. Let’s set it up now.” I want them to get on board with this, see how important this is to me. “Char, what do you have going on tomorrow night?” I ask.

  Fumbling for words and looking at me like I lost my mind, she stalls, “Tomorrow? Ummm… tomorrow night?” She looks at Briggs. He’s speechless and stunned.

  “Yes tomorrow night, Sunday night, day after today,” I say, getting exasperated. They both already agreed that they were in. Why are they acting so surprised now? “Do you have time to… to… you know… fuck Briggs?”

  Briggs lets out a gasp, covering his face with his hands, shaking his head in disbelief. Suddenly, he says, “Janelle, I don’t think…”

  I cut him off, “You better not think! You just DO,” I explain, emphasizing the DO. “Do you want to come over here, hang out with me, and…” looking at Char, I pause, and say, “Do me?” Char bursts out in laughter. He just drops his head in defeat.

  “Nelle, so you’re saying, he can’t shtupp you again, until he’s shtupped me?” she clarifies. I look at both of them. They look at each other. The room fills with an awkward, unchartered air. Neither of them speak.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying, but I was saying it in English—not Yiddish,” I say, trying to lighten the situation “Briggs,” he looks at me with disbelief, “No Strings Attached, remember?” He maneuvers his legs out from underneath me and stands.

  “Can we talk about this in the other room?” he whispers to me.

  Annoyed, I yell, “No! That’s the point. This is fun, casual sex. You need to prove to me that this is just two people having fun, nothing more.” Char gets up to leave the room, and I snarl,
“Sit down, don’t move.” She slumps back down on the chair, rolling her eyes.

  I sit there waiting, waiting for someone to say something. When they don’t, I say, “You both have slept with strangers for just plain, old sex before. Why is this any different? Why can’t you do it for me? For my sanity, my sense of peace?”

  I don’t understand why they’re making so much out of this. Char has slept with maybe hundreds of men. Briggs, I’m sure has been around too. They’re both good-looking people with crazy sex-drives. Why is this such a big deal?

  Finally, Char says, “Yeah, that’s fine. If you’re serious, then 6:00 tomorrow night is fine with me.” Good. Great. Isn’t that easy?

  I look over at Briggs, hopefully and expectantly. Still staring at both of us, he finally nod and agrees, “Tomorrow’s fine. Come by my place. I’ll text you the address.” Am I imagining things or do they both look sad and defeated? Char and Briggs love sex. Why wouldn’t they love sex together? I can’t understand why they look so distraught by the idea. No Strings Attached.

  AFTER SARAH RETURNED with the pizza and beer, the four of us spent the rest of the evening, eating drinking, and just hanging out. It was a good time, but I just couldn’t seem to shake the uneasy feeling that I’m minutes from losing my job, just as I lost my husband. My world’s falling apart, bit by bit, and I can’t do a damn thing to stop it.

  Just when the beer and pizza run out completely, I get a text from Leo, asking if he can stop by. I look at Briggs, lying on my floor, feet away from me, and tell Leo that it’s not a good idea. Guilt overwhelms me. There will be no way I can juggle both of these guys. It just isn’t in me.