For Your Own Good

by Samantha Downing

  He walks to the board and, with no small amount of drama, makes the final tally mark—next to Moby Dick.

  The students breathe a collective sigh of relief.

  “Your choice has been made,” he says. “Have a good weekend.”

  As the students grab their phones and leave, Teddy says one more thing. “Zach, can you stay behind for a minute?”

  Zach nods, checking his phone while he waits for the class to clear out. Teddy doesn’t speak until the room is empty.

  “I’ve given your last paper some thought.”

  Zach says nothing. To his credit, he does not smile or smirk.

  “And I’ve decided to give you some extra credit work to help raise your grade,” Teddy says.

  “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

  “What I’d like you to do is read the book the class didn’t choose and write a paper on it.” Teddy leans back in his chair and clasps his hands behind his head.

  “You want me to read Bleak House?” Zach says.

  “That’s exactly what I’d like. And I want that paper one week from today.”

  Zach’s jaw drops. For a second, it looks like he’s going to argue. Then he makes the better choice. “Um, okay. Sure, I can do that.”

  “I know you can.”

  Zach walks out looking a little dazed. He’ll do as he’s asked, because he doesn’t have a choice.

  Maybe this will teach him not to ask his parents to fix his mistakes.

  6

  SONIA BENJAMIN WALKS down the hall, smiling at each student she passes. The ones who aren’t staring at their phones smile back or wave.

  “Good morning, Mrs. B!”

  “Good morning,” she says. Her smile is warm and real. All the kids call her Mrs. B. “How are you, Connor?”

  “Great, just great,” he says with a smile.

  Connor is followed by Celeste, Noah, Patrick, Leigh, Simone . . . She can name just about every student in the school.

  Ten years. She’s been teaching at Belmont for ten years. Actually, it’s nine years, eleven months, and eighteen days. Less than two weeks from now will be her tenth anniversary.

  She knows the faculty is planning something, as they always do. A soiree. She likes that word. It rolls off the tongue so well. Sonia has been watching her diet for the past month, hoping she can fit into her red dress, the one she hasn’t been able to wear for a few years. That’s the price of working at a school like Belmont, where the food isn’t just good—it’s delicious. Even the headmaster eats lunch in the dining hall, and he doesn’t have to. He chooses to.

  Eleven more days. She can eat carrots and lettuce for that long.

  Today is Monday, and the school is humming. Weekends can have an odd effect on the kids. Half would rather still be at home, and the other half would rather be anywhere but home. Sonia is on high alert, keeping an eye out for anyone who looks triggered or is about to be.

  The warning bell rings, letting the students know they have four minutes to get to class. A special committee was set up to calculate the precise time needed for that bell, and four minutes was what they’d come up with. Sonia wasn’t on the committee and, thus, had kept her mouth shut, but she thought it was all very silly. The original five-minute warning bell had been just fine.

  “Mrs. B!”

  She whips around to find Zach Ward jogging toward her. “Well, good morning.”

  “Hey, I’m glad I ran into you. I was going to come see you today.”

  “Oh? About what?”

  “The article.”

  “The deadline is Friday,” she says.

  “I know. That’s the problem.”

  Sonia’s smile fades.

  The Belmont Bugle is published online the second Wednesday of every month. As the faculty advisor to the school’s newspaper, Sonia has to make sure the paper is on time, every time. No exceptions. On her watch, there haven’t been any.

  “Zach,” she says, “if you don’t get the article in by Friday, we won’t have enough time for editing.”

  “I know.”

  She waits.

  “The thing is,” he says, “I won’t be able to get it done by then.”

  Sonia shakes her head, pretending she didn’t hear.

  “I’m really sorry,” he says. “But I’ve got an assignment due on Friday for Mr. Crutcher, and there’s no way I can do both.”

  “This isn’t like you,” she says, pursing her lips. “It sounds like poor time management.”

  “It isn’t, I swear. He just gave me the assignment a couple days ago. It’s . . . it’s an extra-credit thing. I have to do it for my grade.”

  As much as she wants to say something about Teddy Crutcher—and his teaching methods—she bites her tongue.

  Instead, she glances at her watch. Zach is dangerously close to being late for his next class, and so is she. “Come see me later. We’ll talk about it then.”

  Zach nods and runs off. He waves to half the kids left in the hallway as he goes, and they all wave back. It’s impossible not to like Zach. He’s the kind of student you want to help.

  She walks into her class, where everyone is already seated and waiting. The final bell rings as she shuts the door. With no phones to play with, they all stare at her like a litter of lost puppies, wondering what they’re supposed to do next.

  It’s a good thing Sonia is here to guide them.

  * * *

  AS SOON AS she has a chance, Sonia texts the student editor of the Bugle, letting her know that Zach’s article may not be done in time, and that it’s possible they’ll need another article to fill the space.

  Courtney freaks out, as she is prone to do.

  But we don’t have time to get another article!

  Don’t worry. We’ll pull it together, Sonia replies. We always do!

  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Courtney’s string of exclamation points fills the entire message. She’s a junior, which everyone calls their “last chance” year. Last chance to get your GPA up. Last chance to cram in all the extracurricular activities colleges love so much. Junior year is a pressure cooker when it comes to college, and it isn’t just the students. It’s also the parents.

  They spend a lot of money sending their kids to Belmont, and for that, they expect something. Not a good college, a great one. Ivy League is always the goal, or at least one of the top-tier West Coast schools—Berkeley, Stanford, UCLA. An institution with a big name and an even bigger network of contacts. A school that will ensure a child’s future.

  It’s exhausting. And ever since the college admissions scandal, it’s been even worse. Which is why Sonia is rather peeved with Teddy for assigning extra work at a time like this.

  Normally, she has a hands-off rule when it comes to other teachers and their methods. To each their own, she always says. But in this case, she decides she has to step in and say something, even if it’s Teddy. It’s her duty, given the stress these kids are under.

  Every year, Sonia keeps one eye out for any students who are about to crack. They have, more than once. Sometimes, it’s the teachers.

  And one time, it was even the headmaster.

  7

  SONIA HATES TEDDY’S classroom. All those blank walls drive her crazy. And the fact that he won’t use a smartboard is ridiculous. Just ridiculous. There’s nothing she despises more than a man who wishes he lived a hundred years ago.

  But most think he’s good at teaching. Great, some even say.

  During lunch, she finds him sitting at his desk, eating a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, along with an apple. It seems like he should be so much older than he is. Teddy is forty years old, and she knows this because the school threw him a big birthday party. Too big.

  “Sonia,” he
says, standing up to greet her. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Teddy. How are you?”

  “I’m well, and you?”

  “Very well.”

  For the first time, she sees the plaque. After years of teaching at Belmont, Teddy has finally put something on the wall. Like he’s been saving that spot just for his Teacher of the Year award.

  Unbelievable that the board of directors chose him instead of her.

  “What can I do for you?” he says.

  “I understand you’ve given Zach Ward an extra assignment.”

  Teddy stares at her, not saying a word. Not explaining anything.

  “The thing is,” she says, “Zach has an article for the Bugle due on Friday. You must know he is one of our best reporters.”

  A curt nod from Teddy. “I do read the Bugle.”

  Sure he does. If there’s an article about him. “Zach says he can’t possibly finish both your assignment and the article by the end of the week.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  “I’m wondering if there’s some way we can work this out so he can do both.”

  Teddy cocks his head to one side. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

  Sonia takes a deep breath, sucking in all her frustration. Teddy knows exactly what she’s asking; he just wants her to spell it out. “Can Zach turn in your assignment later?”

  “No.”

  The abruptness of his answer takes her by surprise. “I don’t understand,” she says.

  “Unless I missed something, we aren’t required to confer with one another about assignments to make sure they’re staggered on different days.”

  “Of course we don’t have to do that. I’m asking for a favor so we can both get what we want.” She doesn’t understand how he can disagree with that.

  * * *

  HOW DARE SHE.

  How dare this woman come into Teddy’s classroom and ask him to change a due date. The nerve. The audacity to request something like that from a fellow educator. Teddy is more than appalled; he is sickened.

  Sonia stands in front of him, her body so rigid she looks like a statue. Acting like she’s done nothing wrong.

  The first time he met her, a decade ago, she was a pipsqueak of a thing who looked too young to be teaching. Now she’s larger, her hair is red instead of brown, she wears more makeup, more jewelry, and her breath smells like coffee.

  Still irritating, though. That hasn’t changed a bit.

  “No,” he says. “I can’t do it.”

  “What if he turns your assignment in on Monday? Wouldn’t that work?” she says.

  “Look, the assignment I gave Zach was a gift. A chance to improve his grade with extra work. I’m not going to give him another gift by changing the deadline.”

  “But why would Zach need a gift? He’s a straight-A student.”

  “Students aren’t perfect all the time,” he says.

  Sonia draws in a breath. “No. They aren’t.”

  “Why don’t you move your deadline to Monday?” he says.

  Sonia, still as unwavering as ever, says, “Thank you for your time, Teddy.”

  She turns and walks out of his classroom without another word.

  Teddy feels a tiny bit bad that Courtney, the editor, will have to deal with this, but not bad enough to grant Sonia’s request. Kindness has limits.

  He shuts the door and locks it. With a little bit of luck, maybe he can finish his lunch before someone else wants something.

  8

  SONIA GOES STRAIGHT back to her own classroom and takes out her stress ball. Her husband gave it to her for Christmas one year, saying it might help with her snits. That’s what he calls it when she gets upset.

  You’re working yourself up into a snit.

  The gift was supposed to be his idea of a joke, but she didn’t think it was very funny. She hated the word snit and hated the way he said it. Even if that stupid little ball with the smiley face on it turned out to be helpful.

  She holds it with both hands, kneading it between her fingers, trying to work out all her anger and frustration.

  It’s Teddy’s fault she feels this way. Not that it’s always his fault, but today it is. All she wants is what’s best for Zach. Maybe Teddy can see that or maybe he can’t, but he’s choosing to do what’s best for himself.

  She kneads the stress ball harder, wondering if anyone ever breaks these things. And, if so, what the substance inside is. Something gooey and messy, no doubt. Maybe once her stress is gone, she’ll google it. Until then, she’ll keep on kneading.

  * * *

  ZACH SHOWS UP right after last period, and by then Sonia feels a bit more relaxed. A good thing, because it isn’t Zach’s fault that Teddy is such an ass.

  “Sit down, sit down,” she says, motioning to one of the student desks. She sits in one right next to him.

  “I’m really sorry about this,” he says, setting his backpack down on the floor. “I made a lot of notes for the article, and I know the memorial is coming up quick. Do you think someone else—”

  “Stop right there.” Sonia holds up her hand, cutting him off. “I think I’ve come up with a solution.”

  Zach’s eyes light up. He’s a good-looking kid with the kind of charisma people are attracted to. It’s part of what makes him so popular. “Really?” he says.

  “Do you think you can get the article done by next Monday?”

  He thinks about it for a millisecond. “Yeah. I mean, yes, I think I can do that. But what about the editing?”

  Sonia points to herself. “I’ll do it.”

  “You? But I couldn’t ask you to—”

  “Oh, please. I don’t mind. What I do mind is not having your article about the annual memorial in the Bugle. You know how important that day is.”

  Zach nods, his brown hair flopping over one eye. “I know.”

  Everyone does.

  “So, then, we’re all good,” she says.

  “Thank you. Really, thank you so much, Mrs. B.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  He smiles.

  She sends a text to Courtney, letting her know everything will be okay.

  I talked to Zach. We’ll get his article.

  You’re amazing! Courtney replies.

  Sonia smiles and puts the stress ball back in the top drawer. She doesn’t need to use it now that everything has been fixed.

  Because of her.

  9

  ZACH WALKS AWAY from Mrs. B feeling a little bit more relaxed. Normally, Zach would never ask for an extension on an assignment, not even for an extracurricular like the Bugle, but he had no choice. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be able to get both done by Friday.

  Crutcher is who he should write a paper about. Volumes could be written about that asshole, and not just by Zach. He’d heard about Crutcher before ever setting foot into his class. Everything people had said was true, and then some.

  He steps outside the school, into the crisp fall air, and gets into his car. It’s German, it’s expensive, and it’s obnoxious. It’s also required driving at Belmont, at least according to his dad.

  Never underestimate the power of a good first impression.

  Another Ward-ism.

  Zach speeds out of the parking lot, heading straight for home. If he’s lucky, no one will be there and he can get some reading done. If he isn’t lucky, he won’t stop at all. It’s crazy that in a house as big as his, he can’t get any privacy, but it’s true. His parents always seem to know what he’s up to.

  During the drive, Courtney calls. She starts talking before he even has a chance to say hello.

  “Hey, Loser,” she says. “Why the hell is your article going to be late?”

  “You know already?”

  “Of course. I’m the editor. And I
appropriately freaked out on Mrs. B about this.”

  Zach rolls his eyes. “Why do you do that to her?”

  “Because it makes her think I care more than I do. So why is your story late?”

  “Crutcher. Extra work,” he says.

  “Sucks for you.”

  “Yeah, it does.”

  “You screwed up that last paper, didn’t you?” she says.

  “I didn’t screw up. I got a B-plus because he’s a dick.”

  “B-plus? Yikes.”

  “You are your GPA,” Zach says, repeating another one of his father’s Ward-isms.

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “Ouch.”

  “That’s what you get for being late,” Courtney says. “Loser.”

  She hangs up.

  He isn’t mad about that, and he isn’t mad she calls him Loser. That’s always been her nickname for him, going all the way back to the fourth grade. It’s a joke. Zach isn’t a loser, and it’s because of Courtney.

  Back then, his father had been promoted and the family had moved here from Rhode Island. Zach was the new kid in school, surrounded by students who had known one another since birth. The first day, everyone ignored him. The second day, they noticed him. Particularly an asshole named Bennett. He and his friends sat down with Zach in the lunchroom and fired off a barrage of questions about who he was, where he’d come from, all while swiping most of his lunch right off his tray. Overwhelmed and afraid, he kept his mouth shut.

  Courtney saved him. She walked right up to the table and stood over Bennett. Courtney was a tiny thing, her hair already worn in a tight ponytail and her uniform as crisp as her words.

  “Back off, Bennett,” she said. “You obviously don’t know who his dad is.”

  She didn’t, either, but Zach wasn’t about to say a word. All he knew was that she must be someone important, because Bennett did back off.