by Sam Crescent
Chapter Four
Lucia tore the piece of paper from her notebook, crumpled it up, and tossed it away to join the other fifteen pieces she’d filled with notes and small rhymes. This homework was next to impossible.
She couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
There once was a girl called Lucia,
Who had a great big rear.
Again, she ran her pen across the page, hating it.
She didn’t want the poem to be about herself or to even allow people the opportunity to laugh or mock.
With her pen poised above the paper, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Jack’s words had really struck a chord with her, and she couldn’t do this piece of homework. The last thing she wanted to do was make a mockery of it, or not do it.
Sitting up, she made her way downstairs to grab herself a snack. Her dad was sitting at the table, doing calculations of some sort.
“Hey, Dad,” she said. She’d not even heard him come home.
“Hey, honey. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just doing some homework. It sucks big time.” She grabbed a bottle of water as they were not allowed soda. “Where’s Mom?”
“At work, finishing a few things up.” He looked up from his work. “You okay?”
“You ever write poetry?”
He chuckled. “Poetry?”
“Yeah.”
“No, I can’t say that I have. I rely on stuff that is already written. You know, in cards I get your mother for Valentine’s Day.”
She nodded. “I remember.”
“Why? Is some kid sending you poetry? That’s a sign of a crush.”
“It’s an English assignment, Dad.”
“Oh, okay then. What do you have to do?”
“Write a poem. I’m finding it a lot harder than I thought. Not everyone can rhyme.” She sipped at her drink.
“Not all poetry does, Lucia. Why don’t you look online, read some of the poems, and you’ll see?”
“Thank you.”
She didn’t bother him anymore and made her way back up to her bedroom. Sitting on the floor this time, her bottled water beside her, she grabbed her notebook and just wrote. She’d already done all of her research, and the poems she loved were the ones that seemed to have a flow. Almost as if you could sing them.
Life has a way of scaring you.
Igniting a path of pain and fear,
and scaring you whole.
Beauty, love, sex, it all is relevant right now.
To not fit in, you become the problem.
Wrinkling her nose, she didn’t cross this one out, but decided to close her folder.
Making her way downstairs, she saw her father was still sitting at the table. “I’m going out for a walk. Clear my head.”
“Do you need me to drive you anywhere?”
“It’s okay. I like the walk.”
She left her home just as her mother was pulling into the driveway.
“Where are you going?” her mother asked.
“I’m just going for a walk. I’ll be back soon.”
“Excellent. I’ve found this great vegan place that’ll deliver. They’ve got cauliflower pizza on the menu.”
“Great.” That kind of pizza was disgusting. Lucia hated it. Instead of arguing though, she left her mother to gather her things as she made her way out of the house.
At first, she didn’t know where she was going, and then suddenly realized she was heading toward the park.
She didn’t detour and instead found a quiet bench all to herself. It was Friday night. There was a football game at the high school, and the odds were higher for their team. Following sports wasn’t her thing, but there a few places to avoid when they were playing.
Sipping at her bottled water, she suddenly realized that poetry was making her think. It made her feel things that she didn’t want to feel or to even acknowledge, but they were there, open, exposed, raw.
Only there wasn’t a lot of love right now but hate, sadness.
They were feelings she wanted to avoid, and as she sat on top of bench with darkness already fallen, she allowed the tears she had long denied to finally fall too. Staring up at the sky, she felt sick to her stomach, panicked, nervous, and so many other things rolled into one.
She hated her parents for not being impressed by all that she’d accomplished. So she wasn’t a star in school or popular, but she had good grades all the time, and teachers said nice things about her all the time. She didn’t get into fights or cause trouble. She stayed to herself and with her friend Marie.
Wiping the tears away was useless as more just kept on coming, and they were not helping the way she felt.
Her parents were barely there.
Her peers treated her like a social leper because she was fat, and it just hurt.
“Lucia, you okay?”
She gasped, turning to see Jack Parker standing there.
Quickly averting her head, she didn’t want him to see her tears, to know that she was so broken inside. This was supposed to be her year. Senior year should change everything, and instead, she was more miserable than ever before.
The pain was unlike anything she could ever recall, and it made her angry.
She didn’t kill people.
Why were people so adverse to someone who weighed more than they did? It wasn’t like she was going to sit on them, squash them.
“Mr. Parker, what are you doing here?”
She sounded miserable even to herself.
“I needed to walk, to clear my head.”
Staring down at the bottle of water, she hoped it had been dark enough that he didn’t see how miserable she was.
“You shouldn’t be out here so late,” he said, moving to her side. She didn’t know what to do with the warmth that suddenly flooded her at his closeness.
Why was it that he cared more than her parents? Not once had either of them told her to be safe.
“I’m okay.” He smelled amazing, and she felt her arousal begin to build. She wasn’t an idiot. Her parents had made sure at a young age that she knew about sex, arousal, peer pressure. Pretty much every single thing that could be explained scientifically, they had made her aware of. They got her to look at books, read biographies of struggling teenage mothers.
Yes, she had heard it all, so when it came to attraction, arousal, she knew exactly what to expect.
Jack was the first person she’d ever felt it toward, and that was insane. He was her teacher.
“Why are you sitting on a park bench after dark, crying?” he asked.
Those words set off the waterworks again, and she sniffled as she tried to hide it.
“I’m just a little cold,” she said.
“That’s not it.” Even as he said it, he removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong, Lucia.”
She turned to look at him, and she didn’t know what came over her, but suddenly, not telling him seemed wrong. “It was your stupid homework.”
He chuckled. “You found the power of the poem?”
“No. I can’t write anything, and then when I started to think about it, I just … why?”
“Why what?” He reached out as if to touch her but suddenly stopped. “What do you mean?”
“Why is being fat such a huge crime?” she asked. “It’s like I killed someone because my very presence offends, and I don’t get it. I’m a nice person. I’ve always been nice, and I can’t. I can’t even believe I’m talking about this with you. You know you’re on the popular girls’ most wanted list because you are the hottest teacher in school, and why am I saying that?”
She covered her face, mortified that she’d just broken down, and Jack Parker, her teacher, had seen that.
Lucia expected him to laugh, or to do something. She didn’t expect him to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. His fingers ran through her hair, stroking down her back.
The last thing she should do was hold him closer
, but that was exactly what she did. She hugged him tightly as she let the tears begin to fall.
Neither of them spoke, and she was scared to. There was no way she’d ever be able to go back to school and face him again.
“You are a very beautiful young woman, Lucia.”
She pulled away, snorting.
“No, I’m serious.” He cupped her face, and she stared into his intense blue eyes. His black hair was messy this evening, like he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly, and nothing would make it work. “You’re not ugly, and I don’t think you’re fat. There are men out there who will love your curves and be happy with you the way you are. You’re not a bad person, but you cannot let these people hurt you, Lucia. You can’t let them get to you. You’re stronger than them.” He wiped the tears away, and she couldn’t handle it.
Pulling away from him, she stood away from the bench, and stared at him. “I better get home.”
Biting her lip, she went to walk past him, and he caught her wrist, stopping her.
Heat flooded her at his touch, and it shocked her.
Her feelings for him scared her, terrified her.
“You’re a beautiful person, Lucia. They can’t see it, but I do.”
“I bet you were just like them in high school,” she said. She could imagine him being the star student, the jock.
“I was the rebel, Lucia. I didn’t conform to what they wanted. I spent most of my time chasing after girls. I didn’t bully anyone. I simply fought those that stood in my way. Do not let them get to you. I mean it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Parker.” She stared down at her wrist, waiting for him to let her go. When he did, she missed his touch.
“I’m not telling you this stuff because I’m your teacher,” he said.
She looked back at him, surprised. “You’d be in trouble.”
“Yes, I would. You’re a beautiful young woman, Lucia. You’ve got your entire world ahead of you, and I just know you’re going to live an amazing life.”
She wanted to say more, to ask him more, but right now she couldn’t. This wasn’t the time or the place. Instead, she walked back home, just in time for the vegan delivery. Even the smell made her stomach rebel.
Sitting at the dining room table, she listened to her parents talk, one about their special case at work, the other about research. They didn’t even say a word as she dumped her food in the trash and made her way upstairs. Her notebook was still on the floor. Sitting near the words she’d written, she ran her fingers across the letters, thinking about her teacher.
Attraction wasn’t something she was used to, but she was attracted to him. There’s no way she could let him see, and she wasn’t going to become that girl. The one that stayed after class just to have a few moments with him, or even sit in the front. She’d move toward the back, ignore him, and just forget everything.
She had to make senior year work for her, and that was what she was going to do.
****
Monday afternoon at the beginning of September
Entering the library, Jack noticed the librarian was absent. Deciding once again to put away the books that he’d used, he made his way over to the English section and paused as he found Lucia on the floor across the aisle. Three books were open. She had her earbuds in, and she was listening to some kind of music that he didn’t recognize.
Every single person in class today had handed in their homework, and he’d been tempted to make them all read theirs out, but he didn’t want that. Not when he saw how nervous Lucia looked. It was wrong of him to change his lesson for one student, but he just couldn’t help it.
He should just turn around, ignore this pull she seemed to have, and go the other way.
Jack didn’t. Instead, he began to put his books back on the shelf and waited to see if she noticed him.
“Mr. Parker,” she said, after only a couple of seconds.
Before he could say anything, she’d already taken several books from his hands, and started to place them in the right order.
“You know you could just leave them at the front desk. We can put them away. You don’t have to do this.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind doing the extra work,” he said. “Are you working on an important project?”
“Studying for a test we’ve got on Wednesday while also working.” She nibbled her lip. “Have you had time to look at the poems yet?” she asked.
“Not yet. I’ll be going over them tonight.”
“Okay. I hope that’s not too bad for you.”
He chuckled. “Wait until we get to telling a story, then it will be something different.”
She smiled. “Great, another thing to look forward to.” She tilted her head to the side, and some of her brown hair fell down her back, exposing her neck.
“Well, I better get going.”
“Have a nice evening, Mr. Parker.”
Nodding his head, he spun on his heel and walked away. Unable to resist, he looked back and saw her standing in the same spot, looking a little lost.
Don’t do this.
Don’t fucking do this.
He turned back toward her and stepped closer. “Will you be running at the park any time this week?”
“Running?”
“You know, legs, walking, but at a fast pace.”
“Oh, yeah, I mean, I hadn’t really set out a routine.”
“I don’t like the thought of you running alone. If you’re going, text this number. That way I’ll know, and I’ll be able to keep an eye on you.” He pulled out his card and handed it to her. He did this for parents of students who needed a little extra help.
She stared at his number. “You know you don’t have to do this.”
“The world is not a safe place. Even in a small town, there are still dangers all around.”
“Thank you, Mr. Parker.”
Again, he wanted to say more, but this time, he walked away and didn’t look back. Grabbing his briefcase from where he’d left it on the table, he shook his head.
Giving your number to students is fucking wrong.
But Lucia, she was … different.
So fucking different it drove him crazy.
He’d noticed that she had changed places that day in class.
When she entered his classroom, he’d been looking over a book report from his previous class, and when she didn’t stop at the first row, but went right to the back, near the window, he’d not liked it.
She was the only student who really listened in that class, who took in everything that he said.
Seeing her all the way back there had hurt, and he didn’t get it.
No student meant more to him than the next.
Lucia … she mattered.
He’d seen the pain in her eyes when Connor said that shit to her, and he’d also witnessed her pain on that damn bench. She meant something to him, and she wasn’t just another schoolgirl.
After talking to Principal Dowed, he’d read her reports, to see that she was in fact a bright student. All the teachers had nothing but polite things to say about her. She worked hard, had good grades, worked to the best of her ability, rarely took any time off.
Her parents, though, were always absent.
There was even a note from most of the teachers to make a report card for Lucia to take home for the parents to read.
She came from two workaholic parents who seemed to care more for their jobs than their daughter.
From what he’d heard under the bleachers, her own mother wanted her to lose weight. There was pressure all around her, and he found it heartbreaking to watch, but he also understood it.
He was the son of two lawyers himself. There was rarely a time he remembered having family dinners. They expected him to achieve, and even though he was one hell of a teacher, there was an air of disappointment in his lack of drive for a more prominent position. That was their view on the choices he’d made in his life.
Teaching was something that was in
his blood. He loved it, thriving to see the joy in others’ eyes as they learned something from him.
His parents saw it as a mediocre profession without much pay unless he went to the private schools.
He wasn’t interested in teaching at private schools.
He’d never gone to private school, even though his parents had wanted him to. They’d placed him there for three months, and he caused so much trouble they were willing to let him go to whichever school he wanted.
Lucia wasn’t a hard student to understand. Where he rebelled, she conformed.
Where he broke tradition and screwed around, she stayed trapped in this world, feeling constantly alone.
From her outburst, he knew she felt broken, like a criminal, for being who she was.
Arriving back home didn’t help him to feel any better. He felt fucking torn when it came to her.
“Remember your fucking rules,” he said.
Grabbing a beer, he twisted the cap off and leaned against his fridge, taking a long, hard swig of the drink. It was Monday night, but right now he needed to focus, and thinking about Lucia didn’t help him.
She was his student, and he needed to remember his rules. One, never ever fuck a student. Two, never ever fall for a student. Three, don’t ever break any of the first two rules.
Nodding his head, he felt calmer, ready to face whatever shit was thrown at him.
He made himself a quick sandwich in between swigs of beer and headed back out onto his porch. Taking a seat, he enjoyed the last embers of warmth, knowing soon it would be too cold to do this and that he’d be back inside.
Finally, he opened up his file and graded a couple of tests, making notes, and then also placed advice on where students needed extra help. After an hour of grading, he couldn’t put it off anymore, so he pulled out the small pile of poems he’d asked them to write.
His beer was gone, as was his food, so he took his plate and empty bottle back into the house, taking another out of the fridge. Back outside, he got comfortable and began reading.
Part of being a teacher was making notes as he went, and he did so, grading each paper based on grammar, correct use of words, and things like that. Some of the poems weren’t too bad.
Then of course he had some of the ones that just weren’t worth the paper or air time.