by Xavier Neal
His cold expression doesn’t change. “Just a moment.” He hits the intercom button and speaks, “Could you please send in Mr. Buchanan?”
Our eyes swing to the doors behind me and in walks a face I was expecting. Josh strolls in with a smug expression so obnoxious the only thing I can think about is bashing it in until he can never smile again.
“This is Josh Buchanan, a senior here,” Wilson says, leaning back into his brown leather chair. “Apparently, he discovered one of your student’s phones in the hallway.”
“Oh?” I try not to glare. “What a good Samaritan he is for turning it in.”
But an asshole for stealing it to begin with. Ainsley never lost it. He took it like the little manipulative shit he is. I know assholes like him. We used to ban assholes like him. They’re the same ones Holden had blackmail on because they didn’t like hearing no for an answer.
“Well it’s his girlfriend’s phone, I imagine he’ll just give it directly back to her,” Wilson continues.
His words blow me back in shock. “Excuse me? Did you say his girlfriend?”
“Yes. Miss Ainsley Jacobson.”
Josh lifts his eyebrows prepared for the challenge, enticing me to throw my entire career away and her reputation on a whim. I swallow the desire. “She is one of my students. First period. I wasn’t….aware….she had a boyfriend.”
Wilson snips, “Do you make it a habit to know about your student’s personal lives?”
I clamp down on my tongue to hold my composure. “Not usually. However, I do pay attention. For instance, Miss Winston mentioned having a rough night last night and Mr. Carmichael injured his knee during last weekend’s soccer tournament. I have mental notes about all my students. Miss Jacobson is not an exception.”
He takes the answer as truth, resulting in Josh’s turn to glare.
Doing my best to keep my tone even, I grind out, “May I ask how long have you been seeing one another, Mr. Buchanan?”
“That’s not why we’re here, Nathaniel,” Wilson interjects.
“It’s alright, Mr. Wright,” Josh states. “You’re going to ask him plenty of questions. It’s only fair he’s allowed one or two.”
Wilson rolls his eyes at Josh’s juvenile antics.
“We started dating during Spring Break,” he lies. “I invited her to go with me and my friends to the beach, but she declined because she had to work. We spent the entire week talking. I sent her pics and when we got back we made it official. We text nonstop every day.”
The explanation sounds so realistic that had I not spent three of those days out of town with her I might actually buy it myself.
“He was kind enough to show me the texts and photos in his phone to prove that. However, we’re not here to discuss Miss Jacobson and Mr. Buchanan’s relationship but the one you have with her.”
I do everything in my power to keep my face emotionless. “What relationship?”
“Well on his way to return his phone to his girlfriend, Mr. Buchanan stumbled through some interesting information-”
“You mean he searched her phone,” I snap.
“She’s my girlfriend, I’m allowed to look through it,” Josh growls in return. “She trusted me enough to give me her password.”
Bullshit, almost darts from my lips but I sink my teeth into my tongue once more. This asshole had a plan…a fucking plan. This is one giant set up from the beginning. One fucked up execution he probably started working on the minute Ainsley let it slip she had a boyfriend.
“And Mr. Buchanan happened to find a…private video on Miss Jacobson’s phone that you sent to her.”
Actual confusion crosses my face. “Excuse me?”
“It’s…pornographic in nature,” Wilson attempts to refresh my memory.
The only video like that is the one we made and I never sent it to her. Almost instantly I realize just because I didn’t, doesn’t mean she didn’t. Fuck!
“The video obviously has your face in it, and though the female cannot be identified, Mr. Buchanan has assured me it is not his girlfriend. He claims he knows her intimately enough to clarify it is someone else.”
My lungs catch fire as I try to hold my breath.
“However, it is what has led you here to my office, Nathaniel. First of all, is the young woman in this video a student here at Ollander?”
There’s no hesitation in my denial. “No.”
Wilson questions with disbelief “She’s not?”
My eyes glance Josh’s direction to see how desperate he is for me to defend myself. To bury myself deeper in the hole he’s already dug for me. To bury my reputation, my career, our relationship in the grave he already has a headstone for.
I give Wilson a firm look. “No. She’s a freshman at Clover Rose.”
Josh folds his arms across his chest and rolls his eyes.
“Secondly, why does Miss Jacobson possess a copy of the video in her phone? Why would you send that to her?”
Because she made a terrible fucking mistake. “It must’ve been an accident. I was not…even aware she had a copy of the video.”
“Why do you have her phone number at all?” Josh damn near barks, his eagerness to catch me in a lie now borderline on ridiculous.
Rather than commanding he ask his so-called girlfriend that question, I simply state, “I gave all my students my cell phone number when I took over Mr. Garrison’s class. It was listed on the syllabus. I can print you a copy if that would help clarify things. I encouraged them to reach out if they had questions about their end of the year project or were interested in extra credit, which Miss Jacobson has previously done.”
“Interesting,” Wilson retorts. “I asked Mr. Buchanan if he minded allowing me to search the phone for proof of prior communication-”
“That’s not his decision to make it.”
“It is when he’s worried his girlfriend’s life is in danger and that she’s too afraid to stand up for herself. There are a couple lines in the Ollander handbook that allow for the friend or significant other of a student to allow for the searching of one’s phone or computer if they believe the friend or companion is in danger and unable to protect themselves. Obviously, a connection must be established beforehand, which Mr. Buchanan successfully did by providing me a brief look at the constant nature the two of them talk.”
I wanna shout that’s insane and they have no merit to warrant such a conclusion, but keep my mouth closed. I don’t want to make this worse. I can’t afford to make this worse. They already violated her privacy and mine by going on a witch hunt without her permission.
“As I was saying…when we went through her device, we couldn’t find a single communication from you to her or her to you on the device.”
There’s a hard thump in my chest. Nothing? Not a single photo? Not a text typed in code? It’s like I don’t even fucking exist on the thing? I know I should be relieved she’s discreet, but part of me is weary. Wait. Has she been playing me? Is there truth in anything Josh said? Is all this some sick, twisted prank they’re pulling on me to get a good laugh.
“Perhaps she deleted the messages to prevent jealousy with her…boyfriend,” I suggest.
“But kept the video?” Wilson questions with skepticism. “Or…Perhaps what is really going on is you have been making advances towards Miss Jacobson and she has been denying you. Deleting the messages in hopes you’ll stop sending them. I think maybe she kept the video as leverage to black mail you into leaving her alone.”
The bold, bizarre accusation fumbles my jaw to the ground.
“Mr. Buchanan has also noted mysterious bruises on her wrists. He mentioned how they seemed to match your hand size when he saw you touch her earlier in the hallway. He also mentioned how she cringed in fear. Was almost in tears. I’m wondering if you’ve been physically harming her in your pursuit for something more.”
My inability to speak, to think, to fucking breathe expands ruthlessly.<
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“Whatever the truth may be, we have ourselves a dilemma, Nathaniel. At Ollander we have a reputation to uphold and we cannot do that with our staff sending pornographic videos to students on purpose or on accident. Nor can we have a member of our staff becoming physically violent in his efforts to pursue an unwilling participant. Now, I am prepared to keep this quiet and to have the school pay you for your remaining time here as a substitute despite the fact you won’t be in the classroom.”
Not at all surprised this conversation was going to kill my career, I quietly ask, “On what terms?”
“You sign a formal agreement stating you left voluntarily and that you have the end of the year lesson plans along with easy step by step instructions for your replacement to finish your course emailed to me by Friday at five.” He turns to rest his elbows on his desk and tap his long fingers lightly together as if this offering is the most generous one of his life. “We will also not include the accusations Mr. Buchanan has been speculating or have an investigation opened as long as you do not return to this campus. Do we have an understanding?”
I press my lips together, my entire body boiling in resentment.
What fucking choice do I really have here? The blame is at my feet. I’d rather protect at least one of us than neither. She’s still young. She’s still got time to live the passion she wants most. I won’t let this be her “incident”.
After agreeing to Wilson’s offer, he dismisses Josh, and has Steffanie draw up the paperwork. We wait in uncomfortable silence, my thoughts battling brutally against one another for space in the forefront of my mind.
Once my signature is on the paperwork, I grab my bag and shake hands with Wilson who informs me my things will be packed up and mailed.
Thankfully, the shame filled stroll to my car is through an empty hall and equally empty parking lot.
Just as I pull my keys out of my pocket, Ainsley’s troubled voice squeaks, “Nate!”
Unsure of where she is, I whip my head back and forth trying to spot her.
All of a sudden she pops up from where she was sitting near my rear tire.
Before she has a chance to say anything, I snap, “You’re supposed to be in class.”
“I couldn’t go to class with you in the Headmaster’s office.”
My eyes glance around to reassess we’re indeed alone. Not that it matters at this point. I’m fucking fired and look like a rapist, pedophile stalking one of his angelic students. Irritation grips my vocal chords. “You mean you couldn’t go to class with me losing my fucking job?”
Her face sulks. “Oh no…”
“Tell me this Ainsley,” I start, yanking open my car door and carelessly tossing my bag inside. “Was Josh lying when he said he spent Spring Break talking to you?”
The enlarging action of her eyes guts me worse than being fired ever could.
“Fucking really, Ainsley!?”
“No, no,” she quickly denies. “He just sent me a couple texts-”
“Including a picture.”
“How did you know-”
“Why didn’t you fucking tell me he sent you a picture?” Mindlessly, I bite, “And have you still been talking to him since we had our fight? Do you two honestly talk every fucking day?”
Her head rapidly shakes. “I can explain-”
“Fuck!” My voice rumbles. “You can fucking explain what?! Why? Why would you still talk to that shit head knowing how it pisses me off?!”
“We’re in the same English Lit class, Nate! You know this!”
“So! Why haven’t you told his ass to get help from someone else?!”
“I have! And he still texts me! And texts me asking me out all the time. And he texts me asking me questions about my boyfriend and I’m really just trying to be friendly-”
“Fucking bullshit, Ainsley! You text that asshole back because you fucking like it! You like the attention he gives you! You like how he chases you! All this bullshit is just a fucking game to you, isn’t it?! Fuck me while the real asshole you want works to prove he’s worthy!”
She shouts, “No!”
“That’s why there are no pictures of us on your fucking phone! Or any sort of proof we’ve ever had a goddamn conversation off of school grounds!”
“No, I-”
“Here I am throwing away my entire fucking life because of your childish bullshit!”
“There’s nothing between me and Josh!”
“It’s not enough your mother ruined my family but now her daughter ruins my teaching career, the only other fucking thing I was good at outside of film!”
The low blow stumbles her away from me.
“I’m fucking done,” I grunt and climb into my car.
Ainsley steps back onto the curb and merely watches with tears in her eyes as I start my vehicle.
What the hell is she crying about? I protected her future and she stole mine. I knew this should’ve never fucking happened. I knew this would never end the way I fucking hoped and still I did it anyway. Still I fucked up my entire life for her. For us. I should’ve known to keep my distance. Kept my head down and my dick in my pants. It won’t happen again. Not with her. Not with another student. Not with another fucking barely legal female. No. I’m not a fan of making the same mistake twice…And I won’t.
Ainsley
Sloane leans over and sighs dramatically for the fifth time. “How…long…is…this…process?”
Without looking her direction, I justify, “It’s film editing, Sloane. It can be a bit tedious.”
“Or a lot tedious,” she whines.
“I told you to bring something to do.”
“I figured you were going to just let me watch T.V. or something.”
Typing on my lap top keyboard, I say, “Which you are more than welcome to do in the other room until I’m finished.”
“Why not in here again?”
Finally, I look up at her. “Because I don’t want anything to alter my vision of this project.”
“Which is almost finished, right? I totally wanna see my acting debut with the reshoots we did.”
My attention falls back to the screen but my actions don’t start again.
Last weekend, Scott and Sloane agreed to re-film the earlier footage we shot. After the way Nate ended things with me, I spent the rest of the week crying and watching Casablanca on an endless cycle. Around midnight on Friday I was struck with an idea I felt would be a better tribute. I wanted to film the scene in the staff parking lot at Ollander and rewrite the dialog to better fit our tragedy. Lucky for me neither of my friends were quite ready to deny me the first requested interaction since the split. Scott though still clueless it was my substitute teacher I broke up with, knew my heart was broken and did his best be supportive. He even helped keep Josh from bothering me about the whole thing. He also had to prevent me from strangling him in the middle of the entire senior class who gathered around to watch me yell at him for stealing my phone. I got a good slap in too. Even that hasn’t stopped him from sending me countless apologetic texts and professing that I should be with him instead of anyone else. That he’s pretty sure now I’m free too. Like he did me some sort of favor instead of ruining my life.
The thought of my break up with Nate shifts my eyes momentarily closed to swallow the lump in my throat.
It’s been two and half weeks. It’s been the longest two and half weeks of my entire life and somehow every day seems longer than the last. Not seeing his face the first couple of days in Film Appreciation was fine. I was partially pissed at the accusations he threw at me, at the fact he never gave me a chance to defend or explain my side of the situation, and his cruel words. When Monday morning rolled around, it took everything I had in me not to sob the entire class period with our new substitute, Helen. She couldn’t care about film if she tried. She was doing this as a favor to someone, she bluntly informed us her first day. Then she continued class like she was reading off a scr
ipt. Her words, her opinions, her choice of adjectives, were all Nate’s. I could hear him in her speech. The pain from that made me damn near inconsolable. To my surprise the rumors circulating about his disappearance have absolutely nothing to do with me. Some claimed he left for a better job. Others claimed he left because he was getting married to an undergrad and they needed to plan the wedding. Obviously, that one hurt more than the others, but I did my best to pretend I didn’t care, even when Bethany made sure to poke at the subject like she knew she was spitting in an open wound. He may have callously left me, but he managed to leave a bubble of protection around me in the process. Left me secure with my scholarship, safe from those rumors, and lastly without giving anyone ammunition to humiliate me for something else. Most of the gossip about me has completely shifted to Josh’s pathetic chasing and how kick ass I am for rejecting his constant whining. While he may have ruined Nate’s ability to teach at Ollander or possibly anywhere else, I’m ruining his confidence and his ability to get laid while he’s hoping I cave to his ways.