Lessons in Love

by Carlyle, Clarissa

  Alex shook her head dismissively; surely he hadn’t been looking at her? She must have been mistaken. Perhaps she was more tired than she realized.

  At last, the game ended in victory, which meant that there were high spirits all around. The players came running over to the cheerleaders, which they only ever did if they won. Some girls were dating players and indulged in some very public displays of affection, while others merely flirted.

  Jeff came running over to Alex, a big smile on his face.

  “We won!” he told her proudly.

  “Yeah, you did, great job.” Alex smiled and tried to maintain her exuberant cheering demeanor.

  “I told you we’d win if you were here!” Jeff smiled fondly.

  “No, you guys did it all on your own.”

  “Sucks that you got detention.” Jeff sighed. “That new math teacher is a douche.”

  “Yeah, he is,” Alex agreed.

  “Can I give you a ride home?” Jeff asked hopefully.

  “Thanks, but my mom is already here to take me back,” Alex politely declined, making sure she looked disappointed that she couldn’t take him up on his offer.

  “Oh.” Jeff looked deflated, but it was only momentary as the other players rallied around him and insisted they go over to some house party to further the celebrations. He ran off with them, arms around shoulders, and didn’t glance back at Alex.

  “Are you going to the party?” Claire asked as they headed back to the locker rooms.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’ve got detention after school tomorrow. My mom is already crazy mad at me.” Alex sighed.

  “That blows.” Claire looked sadly at her friend. “I’m sure there’ll be a party this weekend you can go to!”

  “Yeah.” Alex pretended to look hopeful as she took down her ponytail, relieved to have her hair free and cascading around her shoulders, glad to remove some of her shackles.

  ****

  “I can’t believe you’ve got detention.” Jackie Heron sighed in disapproval over breakfast.

  “It’s not my fault,” Alex protested.

  “No, of course not, you’re just an innocent victim!” Jackie replied, audibly annoyed.

  “I am!” Alex held her spoonful of cereal poised before her mouth, unable to take a bite while she felt she was being unfairly accused.

  “Alex, you get detentions for bad behavior. I just don’t understand it, any of it. You used to be so well behaved. Maybe you’re angry, I’m angry too, but you can’t let it rule your life.” Jackie’s tone was calmer now.

  “Leave it, Mom,” Alex warned.

  “I’m just trying to talk to you.” Jackie smiled, but her eyes flicked briefly past Alex to the clock on the wall.

  “You’re never around to talk, Mom,” Alex snapped, no longer hungry, returning the cereal on her spoon to the bowl on the table.

  “I’ve got to work!” Jackie replied defensively. “I’m trying to support this family on my own. It’s not easy you know!”

  “None of this is easy!” Alex yelled, grabbing her backpack, desperate to leave the confines of the trailer. It felt like all their emotions were constantly bouncing off the walls in the small space and they were powerless to do anything other than collide with them.

  “Alex—” Jackie called after her daughter, but it was too late. The trailer door slammed shut as Alex headed out towards school.

  ****

  Despite the morning sunshine, Alex felt cold. She quickened her pace to try to bring some warmth to her skin, but it did no good. It pained her that perhaps her mom was right, that maybe a big part of Alex’s current issues was that she was angry. But she didn’t want to believe that, she didn’t want to be one of those kids who is full of unresolved anger and goes around blaming the rest of the world for their troubles.

  Alex arrived early at school, so the parking lot was relatively empty. There were still remnants of the previous night’s victory floating around: a discarded banner and some contraband beer cans.

  The banner floated gently in the morning breeze and looked strangely beautiful. Like how a plastic bag caught in a draft can appear graceful and elegant even though it was ultimately just trash.

  Walking past the banner, Alex kicked at it, putting an abrupt stop to its breezy ballet. She was in a foul mood. With each step towards school she felt her mood deepen into darkness. It was not going to be a good day.

  ****

  After a long and arduous day, Alex wanted nothing more than to leave school behind. She was tired of pointless lessons about the liberty bell or correct grammar. None of those things mattered to her. In fact, nothing seemed to matter anymore.

  She just wanted to lose herself in being Alex Heron, Head Cheerleader.

  “A few of us are heading to the mall after school,” Claire told her breezily as they walked along the corridor.

  “You should come.” She smiled. “Jeff will be there,” she added teasingly.

  “I can’t.” Alex sighed.

  “You can’t?” Claire raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her best friend.

  “I’ve got detention.”

  “Oh crap, yeah. I’m sorry, that sucks.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Why don’t you come along afterwards?” Claire suggested hopefully.

  “Can’t.” Alex shook her head. “I’ve got to get back to take care of my brother.”

  “Where’s your mom?” Claire queried.

  “In France,” Alex hurriedly devised a response.

  “In France?” Claire’s eyes widened with impressed interest.

  “Yeah, Paris, out on a buying trip for Prada,” Alex explained modestly.

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot your mom works for Prada,” Claire mused. “That’s such an awesome job.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re like, so lucky to have such a cool mom.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “My parents are both dentists. How boring is that?” Claire laughed.

  The girls waved farewell, and then Alex headed back into the school. The corridors were clearing as students filtered out to commence their evening. It felt strange to be at school after hours without a club to attend.

  It wasn’t the first detention Alex had been given, but it was the first that had fallen outside of school hours. Most teachers respected her cheerleading responsibilities and so kept her punishments to lunch break, or asked her to do some extracurricular work. Mr. Simmons had been much harder on her. Alex didn’t doubt that she deserved the detention. She had spoken out of turn. She just realized that she wouldn’t be able to get away with quite so much in his class, which worried her.

  “Miss Heron, good evening,” Mr. Simmons greeted her as she entered the math classroom where the day previous he had assigned the punishment.

  “There’s nothing good about it,” Alex retorted, throwing her backpack down on a nearby desk and settling down at it.

  It was eerie to be in the empty classroom. All the neatly lined up desks were empty, and the room was totally still, apart from their breathing. The late afternoon sunlight spilled through the windows, bathing the room in an ethereal golden glow.

  “That’s the spirit,” Mr. Simmons joked. “It’s always best to be positive about these things.”

  Alex smiled falsely at him and got out her workbook and pen.

  “Before we start work, we need to talk about why you’re here,” Mr. Simmons said, leaning against his desk rather than sitting behind it, adopting that stance which all young teachers do when they’re eager to connect with a student. Give them a few years and they’d be sitting behind it like all the others, thankful of the barrier it provided.

  He was wearing a pale blue shirt with dark jeans, his hair lightly styled with gel, and Alex could smell cedar wood, which she assumed was his cologne. He looked good, there was no doubt about it, but Alex didn’t care how he looked. Nor did she care about how any of the guys at her school looked. She’d
stopped caring about those sorts of things when she was fourteen. At eighteen, she had almost perfected her apathy towards the opposite sex.

  “I’m here because you gave me detention,” Alex responded simply.

  “But why did I give you detention?” Mr. Simmons pressed her further.

  Alex squirmed beneath his scrutiny, fidgeting nervously with her hair, which she’d chosen to wear in a plait, along with a pink gingham shirt, denim hot pants and black Converse sneakers.

  “You gave me detention because I was rude to you.” Alex sighed.

  “So you know what you did wrong, so why were you rude?” Mr. Simmons asked. He wasn’t grilling her, he sounded genuinely interested in her explanation.

  “I don’t know.” Alex shrugged, adopting the petulant teenager approach.

  “You don’t know?” Mr. Simmons echoed. “Do you talk to all your teachers that way? With that lack of respect?”

  “Sometimes,” Alex admitted.

  “Don’t you respect them?”

  “Generally, no.”

  “No?” Mr. Simmons was surprised. “Why don’t you respect them?”

  “Because they haven’t earned it yet.” Alex surprised herself with her answer and blushed. She’d heard those words before, many years ago, from her father. She didn’t even realize she’d been thinking that way until that very moment.

  “You should respect authority figures,” Mr. Simmons told her gently. “The teachers are here to try to help you.”

  “I don’t need help,” Alex instantly snapped at him.

  “I think you do,” Mr. Simmons stated, his eyes boring into hers.

  “No, I’m fine. Stop doing the creepy caring teacher act.” Alex folded her arms across her chest and stuck her chin out defiantly.

  “I’m not the one acting,” Mr. Simmons told her. “There’s only us in here. You can stop pretending to be head cheerleader and just be yourself.”

  “Excuse me?” Alex asked, incredulous at the accusation.

  “I saw you at the game,” Mr. Simmons told her. “You couldn’t have looked less enthused as you sat on the sidelines. Hardly your typical head cheerleader. Normally girls in your position are just oozing school spirit to the point where it’s nauseating.”

  “Maybe I just felt ill!” Alex tried to defend herself but heard her voice faltering. “Perhaps it was my period or something!”

  Usually male teachers could be stunned into silence by the mention of a woman’s menstrual cycle, but Mr. Simmons was undeterred.

  “Perhaps you don’t really care about your football team,” he suggested, watching her intently.

  “Am I here to have my school spirit put on trial?” Alex remarked angrily.

  “No.”

  “Then can we just get this over with? I need to get home.”

  “Big plans?” Mr. Simmons asked.

  “Oh, huge, I get to look after my brother all evening while my mom works her second job.” Alex sighed wearily and then straightened in her chair, realizing that she had said too much. She’d never before confided in someone about her home life, and it shocked her that she’d made such a revelation to Mr. Simmons, of all people.

  He seemed to notice her unease and didn’t press her on the topic any further.

  “Well, I threatened calculus, and I always make good on my threats,” he told her, tossing her a calculus textbook, which had been perched on his desk.

  Alex grabbed it and surveyed the cover. She knew the book. She’d done the problems it contained before, not that she was about to tell him that.

  “Have you done much calculus?” he asked her.

  “Some,” Alex answered vaguely.

  “Could you give me a practical example of its use?” Mr. Simmons asked.

  “Race car driving,” Alex responded without missing a beat. “Calculus is used to determined fuel used over distance and speed as the variables are constantly changing, which makes other mathematical formulas unreliable.”

  “Yes. Very good.” Mr. Simmons smiled.

  Alex opened the book and began to browse through the problems inside. She realized after a few minutes that she was smiling to herself and felt an unusual sensation. She felt comfortable. It was the first time she had felt comfortable since joining Woodsdale High four years ago. It was the first time she had felt like herself.

  Mr. Simmons watched her go through the textbook, delicately turning the pages, and found himself intrigued by her. On the outside, she was the obnoxious cheerleader who cared about no one but herself. But beneath that there was more going on, and he was determined to unlock the secrets within Alex Heron.

  “Why don’t you leave early?” Mr. Simmons suggested when they were forty-five minutes into the detention.

  “Really?” Alex asked, surprised. She was supposed to be there for an hour and a half.

  “Yeah, I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

  “We’ll see,” Alex responded cheekily.

  “Have a nice evening with your brother,” Mr. Simmons added casually as Alex was almost out of the door.

  She froze and turned back to him. Her heart caught in her chest. She’d said too much, she knew that, and now he could potentially ruin everything.

  “I lied,” she told him flippantly. “I was hoping you’d take pity on me and let me finish early.” She smirked at him.

  “My mom is actually in Paris right now, in France. She’s a buyer for Prada.”

  “That’s an impressive job,” Mr. Simmons mused. “Do you miss your mom when she’s away?”

  The question made Alex’s façade falter. She’d not been asked whether she missed anyone for a long time, and the suggestion made her feel light-headed. She gasped slightly but managed to regain her composure.

  “I’ll see you in math tomorrow,” she told him politely, unable to answer his question because she didn’t even allow herself to know the true answer to it.

  “What does your dad do?” Mr. Simmons asked as Alex was about to leave.

  Her body turned to stone upon hearing it, and she felt her hands begin to shake.

  She turned slowly to face him, her eyes misting up with tears.

  “Never speak to me about my father,” she told him, and then she fled from the classroom, her frantic footsteps echoing down the empty halls.

  ****

  Alex ran out of the school, out past the parking lot, and continued to run hard for five blocks until her breathlessness kicked in, causing her to abruptly stop, clamping a hand to her chest as her lungs heaved.

  Bending forward, she placed her head between her knees, panting. As she waited for her breathing to stabilize, she realized that she was shaking. Alex tried to calm down, tried to shut Mr. Simmons’ question about her father out of her mind.

  “Focus on the present,” the advice from her psychiatrist echoed in her mind, even though it had been four years since Alex had heard it.

  She smelt the air. It smelt hot and heavy, carrying the scent of burned rubber and exhaust fumes. Looking around, she took note of the street she was on. Somehow, in her haste she had bypassed her usual walk home, where she would walk past and enjoy the nice homes of suburbia, and was instead headed towards a more dilapidated part of Woodsdale, a part of town that she didn’t recognize.

  The road was sparsely populated. There were apartment buildings, but many of them appeared to be abandoned, their windows boarded over. A couple of cars were parked in the street, but only one looked driveable. The others were missing key elements, like tires or side mirrors.

  This was the part of town that people actively avoided. Behind it lay the trailer park. Alex would be home in as little as fifteen minutes if she pressed forward and braved the streets ahead.

  Continuing to focus on the present, Alex felt the gnawing burn of thirst scratching at the back of her throat. She reached into her backpack only to remember that she’d finished her bottle of water in fifth period.

  Glancing around, she spotted a 7-Eleven on the other side of
the street. If she walked home through the dilapidated vicinity ahead, she’d have time to quickly pop in and grab a drink. It wasn’t the most comforting idea she’d ever had, to walk through a bad part of town at dusk, but she desperately needed a drink. Her legs began walking over to the store before her mind had a chance to make a decision.

  As Alex approached the 7-Eleven, she noticed how eerily familiar it seemed, as though she was having déjà vu.

  It was the way the store sat at an angle that she noticed; it wasn’t even with the street. Also the parking lot, it was unusually small with only five places. Five seemed an odd number of spaces to allocate to a store, when upon further inspection they could easily have accommodated at least seven.

  Alex entered through the glass doors, her mind still bemused by how she recognized such strange, small details like the number of parking spots out front. Three of which were currently vacant.

  The store was brightly lit, and Alex squinted in the sudden garish light. She scanned the various shelves, looking for something to drink. Each branded product leapt out at her in neon packaging, trying to lure her into purchasing it.

  Glancing up, she noticed the refrigerators on the far wall and headed over to them. The double-door fridges were full of a variety of beverages from simple water to bright green-colored liquid, which promised to give Alex twelve hours’ worth of energy. Fumbling through the change in her purse, Alex noted that she could only afford water. She opened the glass door and reached in and grabbed a bottle. It was icy cold to the touch, sending a chill from her hand right up into her spine.

  “Brrr.” Alex tried to shake off the cold as she closed the door. She turned and headed towards the cash register, where there was just one checkout clerk on duty, a middle-aged man with a kind face.

  Alex managed to smile in a friendly gesture as she approached, but her smile quickly fell away. She recognized the approach to the cash register. She had seen the way the aisles fell back to reveal the checkout area before. She’d been in this 7-Eleven some years ago, but then why couldn’t she remember it?