Shattered Poetry (Broken Lives #2)

by Marita A. Hansen

  “Who’s this?” the person asked Mrs. Hatton’s dad, their accent American.

  “I think he’s a student of Clara’s. He was knocking on her window.” Mrs. Hatton’s dad grabbed the phone off a cabinet and directed me to a couch. “Who would you like me to call?”

  “No one. I’m not s’posed to be ’ere.” My gaze returned to the other person. They looked a cross between European and Asian, their hair blacker than black, framing a face too perfect to be real. “Are you one of those hermaphrodick people?”

  The person’s dark eyes widened. “It’s hermaphrodite, and no, I’m a man.”

  “No, I’m a man. I like women, like Clara.”

  “Um...” He glanced at Mrs. Hatton’s dad. “She’s married.”

  “I know, but she doesn’t love her husband.” I turned to Mrs. Hatton’s dad. “How do you know if you love someone?”

  “You can’t stop thinking about them,” he answered with a frown. “You also can’t live without them.”

  “I can’t stop thinking ’bout your daughter, but I’m not sure ’bout the other bit. Does that mean I’m fallin’ in love with her or I just really like her?”

  Not answering me, her dad jabbed some numbers into the phone and placed it to his ear. “Can I please have a taxi come to...” He rattled off his address, then hung up, his focus returning to me. “Have you got any money to pay for a cab?”

  I pulled out the fifty bucks that Jasper had given me and waved it at him.

  “That’s not enough.” He walked over to a cabinet and grabbed a wallet, removing a wad of cash. He walked back to me, holding it out for me to take.

  I scowled at him. “I’m not a ho, and I only lick pussy, not dick.”

  He let out an abrupt cough, his face going bright pink, like his daughter’s did when she got embarrassed. “I’m not asking for anything in return,” he choked out. “It’s just taxi money.”

  “People always want things from me, like this chick who won’t stop phoning and texting me. She wants me to be her toy boy, even offered me fifteen hundred bucks for another night. But I’m not a ho, no matter how much she says she’ll pay. My dad’s mum wuz one and she died from it. Got bashed to death by a John.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be, she did jack shit for my dad. He had to look after his two half-sisters cos she wuz a drunk-arse hooker, who cared more for the bottle than her own kids. I like the bottle too, but I would never neglect my kids for it.”

  “You got kids?”

  I snorted out a laugh. “Do I look like I have kids?”

  “No.” He frowned. “You look like a kid yourself. How old are you, son?”

  “Eighteen,” I lied, so used to telling adults I was older. I looked over at the girly-dude. “You a whore? Bet you suck dick.”

  The guy’s eyes widened once again. “No, I am not!” His annoyed gaze shot to Mrs. Hatton’s dad. “Eric, can I please talk to you in the kitchen.”

  Mrs. Hatton’s dad gave me a stern look. “Stay here.”

  I nodded and lay down on the couch, feeling tired all of a sudden.

  Mrs. Hatton’s dad followed the girly-dude through a doorway, their words drifting back to me.

  “You know what that looks like,” girly-dude said.

  “What are you getting at, Sinh?”

  “Clara! That boy! The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Are you blind? You said she’s been acting strange. Not only that, we see her car arriving home at all hours. I even remember seeing that boy leaving her house once. They’re having an affair.”

  “No, they’re not.”

  “Yes, they are! Look at him. He’s drop-dead gorgeous, not to mention hanging around her house, calling her by her first name. Clara’s having an affair.”

  The sound of a car rumbled outside. I pushed up off the couch and headed for the door, hoping it was Jasper. I opened the door, stopping at the sight of Mrs. Hatton getting out of a blue Ford, one much nicer than Jasper’s auntie’s junk on wheels. I went to call out to her, but clamped my mouth shut as a tall blond man emerged from the other side. He walked around to the boot, removing a suitcase from it. Mrs. Hatton placed a hand on his arm, then leaned forward and gave him a hug.

  Stunned, I backed up and closed the door. I turned around, finding her dad standing behind me, his silver-grey eyes filled with concern.

  “What was your name again?” he asked.

  “Dante Rata.” I leaned against the door and sank to the floor.

  He lowered himself down to my level. “Are you all right?”

  I shook my head, the hug Mrs. Hatton had given the man hurting me.

  “Are you a student of my daughter’s?”

  I nodded, then banged the back of my head against the door, not wanting to think about what I saw.

  “Stop that,” her dad said.

  I looked him in the eyes and did it again.

  He grabbed my arm. “Up.”

  I jerked my arm free and banged my head yet again.

  He placed his hand behind my head. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Clara hugged him.”

  “Who?”

  “Her husband, even after what she did with me.”

  He frowned. “Did you sleep with my daughter?”

  I didn’t reply, the look on his face telling me he already knew the answer.

  9

  Clara

  With slumped shoulders, Markus dumped his suitcase in the middle of the lounge and made a beeline for the shower. He hadn’t mentioned anything about his family on the ride home. I’d wanted to ask, but had held back, realising he probably was too upset to talk about them.

  I left him to shower in peace and started making dinner, choosing to reheat a premade meal of veal and vegetables. By the time it was heated and on the dining room table, Markus emerged from the passage with damp hair and an expressionless face. He slipped into his chair, grunting a thank you. I sat down too, feeling even more awkward than in the car. I didn’t know what to say or do, whether to console him or distract him, so I started eating, hoping he would break the uncomfortable silence. But all he did was eat, barely looking up at me, except for asking to pass him some bread.

  I leaned over, holding the basket out for him. He grabbed a roll and broke it in half, mumbling another thanks. I returned to eating my veal, wondering whether I should ask him about how his mother was doing, although I already knew the answer. His sister had emailed me with the details, mentioning that their mother wasn’t doing very well at all. Not only were her injuries taking longer to heal, but the death of her husband had plunged her into a depression that was concerning Markus’s sister greatly.

  I swallowed down a piece of veal, finally deciding to break the ice and ask Markus about her, but before I could get a word out, he pushed to his feet. “Can you clean up?” he said, his food half-eaten. “I didn’t get much sleep on the plane.”

  “Sure,” I answered.

  I watched as he disappeared through the doorway that led to our bedroom, then got up and cleared the table. I covered Markus’s plate with Glad Wrap and slipped it into the fridge for him to finish later, feeling even more guilty for cheating on him. Usually Dante’s age preoccupied my mind, but with Markus hurting from the death of his father, again, I felt the full force of my betrayal. Even worse, I was letting him down at a time he needed me the most, because, no matter how much I felt and understood his grief, I couldn’t comfort him, my guilt holding me back. The hugs I’d given him earlier had felt stiff and awkward, the invisible barrier between us undoubtedly created by Dante. Regardless, I couldn’t tell him what I’d done, not only because it was illegal, but because I didn’t want to see more hurt in his eyes. Or more accurately, I didn’t want to see disgust, his talk in the car making it abundantly clear what he thought about teachers who crossed the line.

  But I didn’t cross the line.

  Dante had yanked me over it,
the boy a force to be reckoned with. He was like a walking porno, everything he did extremely sexual. It was a horrible thing to think about someone so young, but he was overtly sexual. Not only in the way he looked, but in his actions. What he did to me below with his mouth and fingers ... even Markus didn’t do that. If other women had experienced what I had, I was sure they wouldn’t blame me for giving into temptation. And Dante was pure temptation, everything about him sinfully erotic. He’d even said other women had touched and kissed him.

  The thought angered me. I didn’t want anyone else touching him. He was mine.

  But he wasn’t mine.

  He was a school kid, a fifteen-year-old boy with a troubled past, while I was an adult who was meant to protect not take advantage of him. But how could I take advantage when he was the aggressor? He’d ripped my knickers off; he’d entered me...

  But he was still fifteen.

  And I could’ve said no.

  Should’ve said no.

  God! This was doing my head in. I didn’t know how to handle my conscience. Maybe I should seriously change schools. The thought quickly took form in my mind. If I did that, I wouldn’t have to deal with this overwhelming guilt anymore...

  Or look at Dante’s gorgeous face

  See his wicked smile

  Or touch him ever again

  I put the dishes down and went into the lounge, picking up the framed image I’d taken of Dante’s class. I zeroed in on the back row, where Dante was holding his middle finger up to the camera. I ran my thumb over his image, not liking the idea of not seeing his beautiful face again. Even though he’d caused so much trouble, I still wanted to see him ... yet didn’t. The boy created conflicting emotions in me, ones I didn’t know how to deal with. If only he was a few months older this wouldn’t be so hard. It would still be wrong, so wrong, just not illegal, one less thing to torment me with.

  I put the picture back onto the cabinet shelf, knowing I had to leave Wera High, because if I didn’t, I would lose my sanity. I nodded my head in resolution, making a mental note to see the principal the next day.

  ***

  “Please reconsider this, Clara.” Principal Sao walked around his desk and sat down on the edge in front of me. He was upset with my resignation, the frown lines deepening across his forehead. “I really don’t want to lose you, especially since Duncan has resigned.”

  My eyebrows shot up at the mention of the other Year Eleven English teacher. “He did?”

  Principal Sao nodded. “He got an offer from a private school he couldn’t turn down. I’m going to start looking for his replacement today. I also have my hands full with what happened yesterday. I’ve suspended both Paul and Helen until further notice.” He started massaging his forehead. “I spoke to Dante’s brother yesterday—”

  I sat up straighter. “Did he confirm what Helen did?”

  “Ash said she didn’t touch him inappropriately, that we were blowing things out of proportion, but he tends to play things down, so I asked to speak with his girlfriend, who was in the same class. Tiana told me a different story. She said Helen openly stared at Ash as well as paid him too much attention, offering to tutor him after school, which Ash turned down. Tiana also said that Helen would place her hand on his shoulder when looking at his work, which she said may have been innocent, but she got the distinct feeling it was done purely to touch Ash, since Helen didn’t do it to the other students. She also said it made Ash feel uncomfortable. Then, right after speaking to Tiana, Regina Stanton came to see me.”

  “Helen’s friend?” I said, finally remembering the other maths teacher’s name.

  He nodded. “Yes. She was in tears, saying that she knew Helen found Ash attractive, but she had no idea she’d done anything to the Rata boys. She told me about some of the things that Helen has said about the brothers, which pretty much backs up what a few students have mentioned about the way Helen behaves in class towards Dante. They also mentioned that Helen was staring at him in a highly inappropriate manner the day she kicked him out of class, and all because he told her off for it. Not only were her actions abhorrent, but she put Dante at risk, leaving him open for the police to suspect him over the McDonald murders.” He stopped massaging his forehead and lowered his hand to the desk. “I feel like I betrayed him by allowing the police to take him away. He looked so scared when they arrested him, and the way he’d stopped his friend from attacking that officer... He only went quietly for Jasper’s sake. God, this past month has been hell.” He exhaled loudly, his deep brown eyes beseeching me. “So, please, don’t made it even harder. How about you take a couple of weeks to mull over your decision, then if you still want to leave, I won’t fight it. Just don’t quit right now. I really do need you.”

  I shifted in my seat, my agitation growing by the second. If he thought what Helen had done was bad, I didn’t even want to contemplate what he would think about my actions.

  “It’ll still be the same decision,” I said. “I really am finding the travel laborious.”

  “Wera’s not that far from Cockle Bay, only half an hour at tops. Not only that, you’ll be letting the students down. They’ve had too many teachers quitting on them as it is. It would be nice to at least have someone who’ll stick it out until the end of the year, especially with the Year Elevens. They’re at a critical stage in their education, even more so with the new system. Furthermore, a good portion of those kids won’t want to return next year, which is why I need to have a passionate teacher like yourself influencing them to stay. All it takes is one teacher who connects with them, like you have with your students, especially Lindy McNee. Her mother phoned yesterday, brimming with praise for you. I was going to tell you, but it slipped my mind after the drama with Helen and Mr. Rata. Not only that, you’re heavily involved in the musical. If you leave, Harry will be under too much pressure, to the point where we may have to cancel it, especially since I don’t know when, or even if, Paul will be returning.”

  My back went ramrod straight at the mention of the musical, something the students had been rehearsing for a number of weeks. “You can’t do that! The students have worked hard on it.”

  “Which is why you should reconsider your decision, because it’s now up to you as to whether it’ll continue or not.”

  “That’s emotional blackmail, and what about Beverly?” I said, mentioning the other drama teacher.

  “With Paul on suspension, she’ll be taking over his role as Head of Drama. She also takes care of the afterschool class. She’ll barely have time to breathe, let alone help out with the musical. Also, I will use anything to keep you here, because you’re a good teacher, Clara, no, you’re a great teacher.”

  I grunted, definitely not agreeing with him. Yes, I was passionate about literature and teaching it, but what I’d done with Dante wiped all that out, leaving behind a guilt-ridden woman who couldn’t admit to what she’d done.

  “So, are you going to reconsider your decision?” he asked.

  I reluctantly nodded, realising I hadn’t really thought this through fully. And it wasn’t just about the musical. Othello being cancelled was the least of my worries. Due to the loan from my father for Markus’s trip overseas, we were now in even more debt, the strain on our finances adding to my stress. If anything, the principal’s suggestion of waiting two more weeks was probably a good idea. I could look for a new job in that time, as well as work out a way to keep the musical going without my involvement.

  “I’ll see how things go and come back to you in a couple of weeks,” I replied, hoping the time flew by fast.

  “Good!” Looking relieved, he pushed to his feet and went to the door, opening it for me.

  I nodded my thanks and stepped through the doorway, freezing at the sight of Mr. Rata standing in the reception area. Dante’s father was decked out in full leathers, looking just as menacing as the last time I’d seen him. His dark gaze fell on me, causing my heart to stutter. His upper lip twitched, but he looked more irritated than a
ngry. It settled me down a fraction, allowing me to at least remember to breathe, because if he knew what I’d done, he’d be doing a lot worse.

  His hard gaze shifted to Principal Sao. “I don’t appreciate bein’ made to wait. I have places to be.”

  “I do apologise,” Principal Sao said, his relieved expression gone in a second. “Please come in.” He opened the door wider for Mr. Rata to enter.

  As Dante’s father walked past, he gave me a sideways glance, or more aptly a glare. My mind went into high alert again; fearful he knew more than he was letting on. Principal Sao closed the door behind them, leaving me staring at the wooden surface, terrified that Dante had confessed to his father.

  “Are you all right, Clara?” the principal’s secretary asked, jolting me out of my trancelike panic.

  I glanced down at Mrs. Smithe. She was sitting behind her desk, looking up at me with a concerned expression. She reminded me of my grandmother, with her dyed-blonde hair and grey roots. She was also wearing a matching pearl necklace and earring set that I was sure my nanna had.

  I cleared my throat. “Is Dante’s father here because of Helen?” Please say yes!

  She pursed her lips disapprovingly, causing the wrinkles around her mouth to pull tight. “Amongst other things. He’s angry that Isaac allowed the police to take his son out of school without informing him first. Dante also wants to drop out, and right now, I don’t blame the poor child. It’s atrocious what Helen did. Imagine looking at a young boy in such an unsavoury manner.” Her face twisted with disgust, emphasising her wrinkles. “I always knew that woman wasn’t right in the head. She probably wore those tight clothes just to entice the boys.”

  I didn’t reply, knowing I had no right to judge Helen, plus, again, I didn’t think Helen’s clothes were inappropriate. Mrs. Smithe, like Marcia, was just old-fashioned.