by Laura Ward
I’m a coward.
I waited too long. I thought I timed it perfectly. I’d get back from football camp, and we’d both be so desperate for each other that when I admitted to her I was still in high school—but eighteen—she’d forgive me. She’d understand when I explained that I was a legal adult and had been since May. My egocentric, sports focused father had me repeat motherfucking preschool so I’d be one of the biggest boys in my grade. ‘Better chance to play ball, son,’ he’d say whenever I asked why all the birthday parties I went to were for younger kids. I knew everyone assumed I was held back because I was stupid. Nope, the brain was working just fine; it was always about sports.
When I read her text that she got a job, I was sure it was a middle school position, like she said she wanted. And I knew she’d be thrown by my secret and probably furious with me, but I was ready. I was ready to tell her how much I loved her, and that we could make it through this one year. We needed to be together. I got her—and she sure as hell got me.
As long as I live, I’d never forget her face when she turned around, and I realized she was my econ teacher—and she realized I’d lied to her all along. Her beautiful green eyes, the ones I had worked all summer to make sparkle with happiness, flashed with anger and pain. And, then, suddenly they dulled. It was as quick and as forcefully as when the power went out during a tornado. Empty, blank—they were vacant once again. I did that. To my Emma.
I’m an asshole.
She shook. Her face paled and her whole body shook. My friends snickered and laughed, but I couldn’t react. I couldn’t move a muscle. I was dying—dying—inside that I had caused this, and I couldn’t show it. If anyone suspected anything, she’d lose her job.
I’m a dick.
And then here at her apartment. At the place I’d come to feel was kind of my home too. At the place we shared our thoughts, our meals, and our most physical experiences together, she shut me down. She begged me, if I ever cared about her, to leave her alone.
If I ever cared about her? I loved her with a passion that rocked me. I’d do anything she asked of me. Even if it meant pretending she meant nothing to me.
I’m so fucking sorry, Emma.
Labor Day weekend. Summer was over and the pool was closing. Somehow Emma had managed to have no interaction at all with me besides grading my papers and writing my name down on the pool schedule—making sure our guard times never intersected. My last shift was over in the next five minutes, and there was only one person here I wanted to say goodbye to.
“Hey bud.” I spoke loudly, hoping to get his attention, but not wanting to startle him.
Trevor paused the song on his iPod and slipped his oversized headphones off his ears. He waved hello with his free hand.
“Whattcha listening to?” I asked, sitting next to him on the bench.
Trevor handed me his headphones and I grinned, enjoying the smoothly cool rhythm of Aloe Blacc’s The Man. Trevor gave me a thumbs up as I sat back and bobbed my head to the beat.
As the song ended, I returned Trevor’s headphones. “Listen bud, the pool closes tomorrow. Did you know that?”
Trevor nodded his head, but kept his eyes focused on the ground.
“I’ve had a really good time hanging out with you this summer. I’m real happy you decided to get in the pool, and it’s been cool just sitting together and groovin’ to our tunes.”
Trevor shot me a small smile and nodded again.
“I’m not working tomorrow, so I need to say goodbye now. I already asked your mom this, but I wanted to ask you too. Can we still hang out?”
Trevor’s head whipped up and his eyes were full of relief… and excitement. I felt that lump in my throat again and he vigorously nodded.
“I’m going to put my cell phone number in your iPod here and you can message me anytime. I was thinking we could grab a doughnut next weekend or something? Oh, and your mom told me she would bring you to my football game on Friday night. Sound good, bud?” Trevor watched, a look of awe on his face, while I programmed my number in his iPod. He turned to me and his eyes welled with tears. Furiously, he wiped them away before stretching out his hand to shake mine.
Now my damn eyes felt watery. Was it this easy? Was it this simple to be there for someone who didn’t have many people in his corner? Why had I wasted so many years caught up in nothing but my own bullshit? No matter if Emma never forgave me, she taught me the most important lesson of my life. That the Trevors of the world mattered—even when they couldn’t say so themselves.
I shook my head at his outstretched hand, realizing that a handshake was woefully inadequate, and pulled Trevor into a hug, smacking his back lightly before we each pulled away. I waved goodbye, picked up my bag from the guard house, and headed to my truck. My phone pinged and I read the text from Trevor:
Wish I could talk. I’d say thank you. Thanks for being my only friend.
I jumped into my truck, reversing, and tearing out of the parking lot before anyone could see the tears streaming down my face.
***
THE NEXT COUPLE of weeks went by better than I expected. The pool closed and I had been able to schedule Landon and me at opposite times so I didn’t have to see him in the guard house. Every time I looked at that couch, I thought of things that made my heart race. I missed the Landon I knew this summer with all my heart, but I hated the Landon that betrayed me.
On my last day at the pool, I got a chance to say goodbye to Carol and Trevor. I hugged each of them and Trevor gave me a thumbs up before jumping in the pool to swim with his sister. Carol told me a tearful thank you for my time and dedication in working with her son and helping him overcome his fears. In reality, it was all Landon. Trevor felt safe around the big guy and also had fun with him. He admired Landon, but, most importantly, Landon had earned Trevor’s trust. He had earned mine, too… and then broke it to pieces. But looking back on my summer, I would always remember working with Trevor and the amazing breakthrough that I saw. After all, he had helped me learn that it is possible to overcome your biggest fears and jump into unknown waters.
I hadn’t done either of those things yet in my life, but if Trevor could do it, I needed to as well.
In school, Landon sat in the back of my classroom, ignoring me as I ignored him. His comrades continued to whisper about me, laugh, and generally make me uncomfortable. The rest of my classes were a joy, though, and I felt like I was fitting in as a staff member at Zionsville Academy.
After Sam passed me running along the side of the road after school one afternoon, she told me that many of the female teachers worked out in the girls’ weight room before school. None of the students, except for football players on the boys’ side, worked out before school, so the physical education teachers let the staff use the area.
I was relieved. I was saving all my money to help Mom and Evie, so I couldn’t justify a gym membership, even a cheap one. But working out was a huge part of my life and a real stress reliever for me—and I needed all the relief I could find. After Landon had taught me all summer about muscle development and workout training schedules, I was anxious to keep up and not let my progress stop.
The next day I got to school an hour early and ran as fast as I could on the treadmill. I was alone in the gym and the silence was calming. Knowing I still had to leave the girls workout room and head to the faculty showers, I quickly finished my abdominal routine and pushups. Sweat poured down me, and the stress from the start of the school year began to ease. But I also knew I could run forever and it wouldn’t stop the pain that coursed through my body when I pictured Landon in the back row of my classroom.
I walked out of the room, chugging water from my bottle, and slammed into a wall. My water splashed all over me and the wall, which was wearing a “Zionsville Athletics” shirt. I didn’t even have to look up. The wall chuckled as I attempted to collect myself.
“Hello, Landon.” My half-smile made him laugh harder.
“Why do we always run in
to each other in gyms?” He looked me up and down, and I wished the water, mixing with my sweat, wasn’t running down my chest and arms. I also wished that I was in a full body snowsuit, rather than the skin tight and all of a sudden quite revealing workout outfit I’d hastily decided to wear this morning.
“Just trying to stay in shape, Mr. Washington. How about you?” I took another step backwards.
“You know I love early morning workouts. I miss my partner, though. She was worth getting up early for. ” He whispered to me in his usual cocky tone, and I looked at him with narrowed eyes. “It’s hard in the morning… getting up I mean.” Landon’s grin stretched across his face as my jaw dropped. Cheeky bastard.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure out how to get up without her. Being let down can be painful, but you’ll get over it. Trust me on that.” I scooted past him and felt his eyes follow me down the hall until I turned into the faculty room. How quickly we went from touching each other and stealing kisses while working out, to being awkward and uncomfortable in each other’s presence. Fabulous. My life was freaking fabulous.
Homecoming was approaching and emotions—and hormones—at the school were at a fever pitch. Guys asked girls to the dance, attire was discussed, and after-parties were planned. Cammie Gorsuch wrapped her arms around Landon and giggled with excitement as I headed to my classroom before school. I guessed they were going to the dance together. I wished it didn’t make my stomach hurt.
In third period econ, Dean seemed to be in an extra nasty mood. He continually called out as I discussed supply and demand graphs and tried to turn each example I gave into something dirty or sexual. I did my best to ignore him, but after forty minutes, it was getting hard to deal with. No pun intended.
“Cut it out, Dean. You’re being an asshole,” Landon whispered, but I refused to look at him.
After explaining the homework assignment to the class, I began passing out worksheets. As I reached Dean’s row, I placed the pile on his desk and asked him to pass them down the aisle. Instead, he leaned forward in his chair and knocked the papers to the ground in front of him, effectively forcing me to bend over and pick them up right in front of him.
As I did, feeling my face burn with shame and my hands shake with anger, Landon was suddenly beside me. He’d gotten out of his seat and gathered a stack of papers into a pile. The classroom suddenly filled with laughter, and I had a pretty strong suspicion Dean was making some motions behind me about my ass.
I turned to face Dean to yell at him when Landon reached behind to tip Dean’s chair back. Then, in one of those strange slow motion moments in life, Dean fell backwards, a look of fear and embarrassment on his smug face.
Dean lay there, sprawled on his butt on the floor, before jumping up quickly, incensed. “What the hell, Landon?”
Landon laughed. “Dude. You’re such a fucking idiot.”
Now I was furious with both of them. “Landon! Dean! Stay after class. You are both way out of line.” The class whistled and jeered at the boys as Landon glared at me in frustration.
As the rest of the class left the room, I leaned on the edge of my desk and waited for the both boys to approach me. Each looked angry with the other and not the least bit worried about my reaction.
“Landon, watch your language in my classroom. And you could have hurt Dean. Cut it out. Dean, I have had it with your comments and jokes. You both need to pass my class to graduate. I expect you to take it seriously, or you will each get a grade that will keep you in these halls for another year. And, Dean, if you can’t be respectful to me, I will not only report you to administration, but I’ll make sure that you’re the best water boy in Boone County.” I handed both of them detention slips. “Detention here, tomorrow, after school.”
Landon continued to stare me down as Dean laughed, ripped his paper in half, turned, and walked out of the room without another word. He almost ran into Amy, who mumbled an apology and jumped out of the way.
Landon turned to me like he wanted to say something, but he shook his head and walked out as well. He almost went past Amy, ignoring her in the same rude manner as Dean. But he stopped, met her eyes, and asked quietly, “Hi Amy, how are you today?”
Amy took a step back, appearing unsure if he was serious or setting her up for something. “What the…I, uh… good. Thanks, Landon.”
Landon nodded and headed out as Amy looked at me with a huge smile. “Landon Washington is yummo! He never talked to me, Miss Harris. Never. Not one time!” She was so excited and happy I felt a smidge less anger at Landon.
“Well, it’s about time he realized his mistake, huh, Amy?” I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she giggled as we walked to the cafeteria. I got it that Landon was trying to defend me and was furious that I scolded him for it, but he was acting like a kid. I knew he had it in him to act maturely, and he was showing me none of that right now. But could I really expect more from him? He was just a high school senior. I’d be foolish to expect more.
As much as I loved teaching, I hated the duties teachers were assigned in their “free” time. I was given one night football game this week to chaperone and then the Homecoming dance. Sam told me all the young teachers were assigned to chaperone school dances, because the music didn’t hurt our ears as badly as the old-timers. In addition, I monitored the main hallway during the third lunch shift, where kids hung out after finishing eating, to make sure no students fought, smoked, or tried to cut school. It was like hazing for new educators and it sucked.
As if my interaction with Dean and Landon earlier that day hadn’t been enough, they were standing in a group socializing in the main hallway I patrolled. Dean was bitching about me giving him detention to the group, and the guys and girls were mocking me. Landon’s eyes followed my movements, and I noticed that while he wasn’t participating in the banter, he wasn’t walking away from it either.
I continued my monotonous chore when a shrill voice called out loudly, “Excuse me! Where is your hall pass? You can’t be here without a hall pass, young lady!”
My head turned as I looked around for a student on the loose that I had missed.
“You! I am talking to you!” The loud voice became more agitated. Ms. Gomez, the thin and matronly school librarian, was pointing to me.
“Me?” I asked. Dean and Landon’s group of friends looked over just as I was being mistaken for a student. Fan-fucking-tastic. Jon and Ricky bent over in laughter, while Dean collapsed on the floor, overcome with the hilarity of the situation. I couldn’t look at Landon.
My face reddening, I approached Ms. Gomez and showed her my faculty pass. “I work here, Ms. Gomez. Room one-o-three. History and Economics? Emma Harris?” This was so completely mortifying.
“I am so sorry, Miss Harris. You look just like the students. Such a pretty girl!” She patted my shoulder. I turned around, humiliated, and tripped over the feet of someone standing much too close.
“Whoa, there, little lady. Where are you headed?” I looked into the startlingly blue eyes of Ford, the school chemistry teacher and girls’ softball coach. He was a legend at the school. Tall, sandy-haired, handsome, and an incredible—or incorrigible—flirt. He flirted with teachers, administrators, parents, and most of the female students at Zionsville Academy. Everyone loved him, and he was always called Ford. Not Mr. Ford, not Ryan Ford, but Ford—by everyone—even himself. And, evidently, not even Ford knew who the hell I was.
“I am a teacher here.” I said, gritting my teeth and pushing away from him.
“I know that, Emma. You think someone as gorgeous as you could get by me? I wanted to explain that old Gomez is as blind as a bat.”
I managed a laugh. I was over-reacting to the comedy skit my first job had become.
He held out his hand so we could shake. “I haven’t been able to introduce myself yet. I’m Ford.” He placed his arm loosely around my shoulder and started walking the hall with me.
We paused in front of Dean’s group, and Ford met Dean’s ey
e with a challenging expression. “Problem, Goldsmith?”
Dean looked uncomfortable, and I was so elated I wanted to jump in the air. Landon stood, glaring at Ford, arms crossed tightly across his barrel chest.
“No, Ford, we’re good here. Hi, Ms. Harris.” Dean sounded almost sheepish. I didn’t know what just happened, but it was the best thing ever. We walked away from the group and Ford withdrew his arm. I turned to face him, completely incredulous and ridiculously exhilarated.
“Ford! How did you do that? Dean seemed almost afraid of you. He has been torturing me ever since school began.”
Ford smiled warmly at me and leaned close to my ear. “Scare them, Emma. With boys like that, you gotta hit them where it hurts. They mess with me; I will get all the girls to gang up on them. The girls listen to me, and the boys want to be able to party with the girls. If I say that a couple of the guys are bad news—they won’t get any action for months. It’s too much for them to take. The boys respect me because they fear me. I’m like the worst case of blue-balls these hormonal bastards could ever get.”
Nodding, I chewed on my lip as Ford strutted down the hall, pleased with his display of male authority.
Taking my clue from Trevor, I needed to be brave. It was time to step things up around here.
***
THE PAVED PATH to the football practice field was long and winding. I held my skirt down as the breeze blew it, and my hair, around. The weather was just turning chilly and yet I knew the boys would be hot as hell, practicing in all their football gear. The Zionsville Lions took their practice time as seriously as gladiators preparing to fight to the death.
The leaves on the trees were changing colors and I was suddenly nostalgic, remembering how beautiful the Charlottesville campus was in the fall. Just a year ago, I was a student walking to class among some of the nation’s finest minds, surrounded by colonial architecture and picturesque valleys. I cared only about studying for classes, writing high quality term papers, and attending the occasional weekend party. Not that my college experience was easy, but it was nothing compared to this.
