Teacher's Pet

by Andrew Neiderman

  Twice during the last week, she had gotten herself to call, and once she had gone over there; but when he answered the phone, she couldn’t get herself to speak and when she went to see him, he wasn’t home. Or, once again, he had seen it was she and had decided not to come to the door.

  She was caught in a paradox of feelings: it was degrading to her to pursue him and yet she wanted to pursue him. She knew the frustration was having a serious effect on her and her relationships with her friends and Barton, but she felt helpless to prevent it.

  And then there were the dreams. They had started the night after Adam and she had made love. She couldn’t remember ever having any as vivid. When she awoke in the morning, she had to lie there and think. Did it really happen?

  In all of the dreams, she made love to Adam again, but each time, they did it in a different part of the house. Once, they even made love outside on her front lawn, and while they were doing it, old man Cutler came by walking his dog. He stood there watching them, waiting to get a word in.

  The dreams always left her aroused and excited, but when she looked over at Barton, he was usually fast asleep with his back to her. Once, her moaning woke him and he shook her out of it. She told him she had a nightmare and then she got up to take an aspirin. Before she came back to the bed, she stopped by the bedroom window and looked down at Adam Lucy’s house.

  It was very late at night, but there was a light on. She thought she saw one of his high school students emerge and head down the avenue, but she told herself that couldn’t be. It was far too late for tutoring. Right afterward, though, the light went out and his house was dark.

  “Are you all right?” Barton asked her.

  “Yes,” she said and she went back to bed, but she didn’t fall asleep until it was almost morning.

  It went on like this so long she began to feel incapable of ever helping herself, so when Barton made his suggestion about her getting a job, a light did go on. An idea was quickly born.

  “I don’t have the skills anymore, Bart. Things have changed considerably since I was a secretary and if you don’t keep up with something, you get rusty.”

  “So…take some refresher courses.”

  “I can’t see myself sitting in classes with kids, Bart.”

  “No, a lot of older people take courses at the community college.”

  “I’d rather just find someone to work with me.”

  “Oh.” He thought for a moment. “You mean, like a tutor?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Well,” he said. He turned to the side as though he could see through the wall and into the old Taylor house. “From what Charlie Rosen told me, I couldn’t see sending you to this guy.”

  “My God, Bart,” she said, nodding her head slowly, “don’t you trust me? After all these years?”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Ellen. I don’t know if I should trust him.”

  “I don’t know why we’re even talking about it,” she said, sitting back in her chair. She looked dejected and forlorn again and he immediately regretted throwing cold water on her excitement. “The man probably doesn’t do the kind of tutoring I need.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess it’s worth finding out,” he added. “I could ask him.”

  She thought for a moment. Why not? she wondered. Let the pressure be on him. Let’s see him turn down Bart. She felt a growing excitement as she imagined the scene: Bart going over there and knocking on door to request that Adam spend time with her, the look on Adam’s face as he searched Bart’s expression to see if there were any knowledge within, his hesitation, and then…what would he say?

  “What about Charlie Rosen’s stories?”

  “Maybe you were right. Maybe he was just jealous of the way Barbara spoke about him. I’m not worried,” he said, smiling. “If he can help you…”

  “Well, like I said, I don’t know if he can.”

  “Won’t hurt to find out?” He looked at his watch. “It’s not that late. I’ll take a walk over there now and speak with him. OK?”

  She hesitated.

  “I’m not sure that I really want to go back to work.”

  “At least you’ll have the option. OK?” he repeated. She looked up at him and then nodded slowly. He smiled and she smiled back. It warmed and encouraged him. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  She sat back and watched him go to the front door. He put on his jacket and left. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. What if he says yes; what if he says no? Oh God, she thought, I shouldn’t have let Bart do it.

  She got up quickly and went to the side window to see whatever she could, but Barton was already at his door and a moment later, he was inside.

  It was almost as if the tutor had expected him.

  Johnny saw Barton Lorner enter Mr. Lucy’s house. He was halfway down Highland Avenue at the time. He pulled back into the shadows and waited impatiently. He knew that Mr. Lucy didn’t have a tutorial tonight. Tonight was the night Tommy Richards would be seeing him if he hadn’t been talked out of it by Richard Slattery, he thought.

  Mr. Lorner remained in the house so long Johnny began to get discouraged. The others would soon be here and he wouldn’t have his private time with Mr. Lucy. Also, it had turned so cold they were predicting flurries and he really wasn’t dressed warmly enough. He tried running in place and swinging his arms about before he finally realized he could go to Mr. Lucy’s house and pretend it was his scheduled tutorial. How would Barton Lorner know the difference?

  He did just that, and when Mr. Lucy opened the door and saw him standing there, he looked grateful.

  “Oh, your student’s arrived,” Barton said. “Well, thank you for the advice and those suggestions,” he said and left.

  “Good timing, Johnny.” Mr. Lucy looked past him. “Where are the others?”

  “They’ll be along. I thought I’d talk to you first.”

  “Oh, I see. Good. Come on in. Did you see Sandy since she spoke to Richard Slattery?”

  “I did better than that,” Johnny said proudly. “I was there at the time. Well hidden of course.”

  “Your idea?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thought so. Well, come on, sit down. Let’s talk. Getting cold, huh?”

  “Yeah. Might snow tonight.”

  “I was thinking about making a fire in this old fireplace, only I’m not sure it’ll work. Don’t want to set this place on fire. Sit down,” he repeated, seeing Johnny was still standing in the living room.

  He was standing by the seat Mr. Lucy usually took, but Mr. Lucy indicated he should take it. He looked at it and then looked up at him to be sure he meant it. Mr. Lucy nodded and Johnny eased himself into the chair.

  He tried to sit the way Mr. Lucy always sat—his back straight, his hands on his lap, the fingertips touching. His head was eclipsed in the same darkness that usually kept Mr. Lucy hidden. He knew it was probably his imagination, but he felt different the moment he sat in this chair. He felt as though he could be the tutor, as though he could tell the others what to do and how to behave. Mr. Lucy smiled as though he sensed Johnny’s illusion.

  Mr. Lucy did not sit down. He stood before Johnny and kept his hands behind his back. Now he looked more like a regular tutor, waiting for his pupil to recite some mathematical table or some list of spelling words.

  “All right,” he said. “Tell me what you heard.”

  “He hates all of us. That’s for sure. Except Sandy, that is. He’s crazy about Sandy,” he added, his jealousy exposed. “But the worst thing is he went to see Mr. Zola right after…right after it all. Zola called him to come over to his apartment and he told him his side. Slattery swore to get us.”

  Mr. Lucy stepped closer to the chair. He seemed to grow taller and wider right before Johnny’s eyes. He blocked out most of the light behind him and Johnny felt as though night itself had invaded the house. There was a chill and he shivered, but he did his best to keep it subdued and hid
den.

  “Sandy couldn’t get him to ease up on us then?”

  “No way. He hates her having anything to do with us. He calls us ‘zeros,’ the bastard. He’s the biggest zero of all.”

  “I see.” There was a long moment of silence.

  “What are we going to do? The others will be here soon.”

  “Yes, they will. You’re right. You and I are going to come up with something, Johnny, and it will be up to you to help me to get them to cooperate. It’ll be best for everyone. We’ve got to make them understand that.”

  “They will,” Johnny said, imitating Mr. Lucy’s characteristic tone of confidence.

  “Good,” Mr. Lucy said. He went to the window and peered out at the avenue. Snow flurries had begun, but there was no sign of the others yet. “If Slattery ever did expose us, it would be terrible for everyone, especially you and Gary,” he said without turning around.

  “I know.”

  “You’ll run into people like him all your life,” Mr. Lucy said. For the first time, Johnny thought he heard a note of sadness in Mr. Lucy’s voice. “Just when things are going well for you, someone like him will appear and try to hurt you because he’s jealous of your accomplishments. People like him think everything belongs to them.”

  “I hate him. I’ve always hated him.”

  “You’ve always sensed it, Johnny,” Mr. Lucy said, turning around. Johnny couldn’t be sure because of the poor illumination in the room, but it looked like Mr. Lucy was smiling again. “I knew you had this special sensitivity; I knew it from the start. You’re a born leader, Johnny.”

  “I try,” Johnny said. Mr. Lucy’s compliment nearly brought him to tears.

  “We’re going to have to do something very serious, Johnny, but I think you’re up to it and I think you can help me bring the others up to it.” Mr. Lucy hadn’t just lowered his voice. He had thickened it and filled it with a tone of excitement. Johnny’s heart began to pound in anticipation.

  “I’m not afraid,” Johnny said. He knew that was what Mr. Lucy wanted to hear the most.

  “Good. I’ve seen what you can do, so I know there’s not going to be any problem.” He turned around again and looked through the window. He could see the others coming down the avenue now. “That was very clever what you did with Sandy, listening in unseen. It’s given me an idea.”

  The four of them sat together in a heavy silence. Mr. Lucy had gone into the kitchen to make them hot chocolate. The wind had picked up and it seemed to be blowing right through the old building. Loose window shutters tapped ominously against the sides of the house. The flurries had grown heavier, but when the flakes hit the windows, they quickly turned into cold tears. The resulting streaks made the glass look shattered.

  Sheila, Gary, and Sandy huddled closer on the couch. The need for contact came from more than just the need to be physically warm. The silence that had fallen among them after Mr. Lucy had left worked like a thread sewing them together. They stared at Johnny, who still sat in Mr. Lucy’s chair.

  “My father’s visited me last night,” Sheila said. Although it had nothing to do with what they had been discussing, it seemed appropriate. “He came to tell me he was going to work and live in New York City. He kept asking me about my mother, but I pretended not to know anything.”

  “Your father’s too weak,” Johnny said.

  “I know,” she said, and looked away when her eyes watered.

  “Maybe you should live with him,” Sandy suggested. “He needs you more.”

  “He didn’t even offer it. I hate my mother’s boyfriend. I hate my mother,” she added. Her cheeks looked swollen and Johnny wondered if she was regaining weight. “I don’t have anyone I really care about or who cares about me. Except…Mr. Lucy. He’s the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

  “Sometimes,” Gary said, leaning forward, “I dream that he’s my father. My father’s such a nerd compared to Mr. Lucy.”

  “But Mr. Lucy isn’t anyone’s father,” Johnny said. “He’s our tutor. He belongs to all of us.” Johnny had had the same fantasy, but he didn’t want to admit it or reveal his jealousy.

  “My father can’t see the way Paula’s come between us,” Sandy said. Everyone else’s self-revelations encouraged her. “It’s happening more and more. I know she resents that I’m doing so much better in school and that my father’s proud of me. That’s why she didn’t want me to start with Mr. Lucy.”

  “Mr. Lucy was right,” Johnny said, “when he told us that you only play into the hands of your enemies by doing badly.”

  “Mr. Lucy’s got such a clear view of things. I wonder if I’ll have that view,” Sandy said. Her voice was soft and feminine. Johnny recalled their intimacy.

  “You’ve already begun to have it,” he said. He looked at Gary and Sheila. “We’ve all begun to have it.”

  “He’s right about Slattery,” Gary said. He spoke like one who had been hypnotized—leaning forward, staring at no one, his eyes glassy, his body so still. “He’s like a cancer, infecting everyone, turning them against us.”

  “His parents have always been very proud of him,” Johnny said. It had the effect of a loud clap, directing everyone’s attention to him. Even Gary looked more alert. His eyes grew smaller and his face tightened.

  “I remember they were always willing to chaperon trips he went on or school parties,” Sheila said. “My father was always too busy and my mother…my mother,” she added as though that explained it.

  “Slattery’s father once coached the soccer team for a season,” Johnny said. “Remember that. It was two years ago when they couldn’t find anyone to do it. He worked it into his schedule so he could leave the college.”

  “Slattery probably never let the other guys on the team forget it, though,” Gary said.

  “Too bad he’s so good-looking,” Sheila said. Johnny looked at Sandy.

  “He’s not really good-looking,” Sandy said quickly. “He has a pretty face, too pretty for a boy.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Johnny said. “I know what has to be done and I’m willing to do it.”

  “I’m scared,” Sheila said, lowering her voice so Mr. Lucy couldn’t hear.

  “That’s great,” Johnny said. “Let Mr. Lucy down just when he needs us the most.”

  “I can’t help being scared,” Sheila said, and looked to Sandy for support, but Sandy looked away disgustedly.

  “Slattery’s not scared when it comes to something he wants to do to us,” Gary said. “You heard what he told Sandy.”

  “That’s right,” Johnny said.

  “You don’t have to do that much anyway,” Sandy said.

  “I know.” Sheila looked at them. They were all staring at her so intensely.

  “I’m taking the most risk. We’re using the lumber yard,” Gary said. His shoulders rose with frustration and anger.

  “You’re right. I’ll get over it,” Sheila said quickly. Gary wasn’t that big, but at this moment he looked enormously threatening.

  “Of course you will,” Johnny said. “We’ll all be with you and Mr. Lucy is with us.” He got up and everyone followed him to the kitchen to join Mr. Lucy.

  By the time they were all ready to leave, the snow flurries had stopped, but the wind hadn’t died down. The moment they opened the door and stepped out, the cold air embraced them. Even so, Mr. Lucy, impervious to the chilling night, remained in the open doorway and watched them until they turned from the house and headed down Highland Avenue. Johnny looked back and waved good-bye. Then the others did the same.

  When they turned onto Main Street, the village proper looked deserted. There was no one else in sight and nearly all of the store windows were dark. The only sign of activity came from Kayfeld’s Bar and Grill.

  “I hate this town,” Johnny said suddenly. “I’d like to leave it when Mr. Lucy does.”

  “Me too,” Gary said. He was impressed with Johnny’s intensity.

  “Whatever I do, I want to
be able to travel like Mr. Lucy has,” Johnny said.

  “So would I,” Sandy said. She moved closer to him.

  Sheila didn’t say anything. Johnny was worried about her. She had been the most quiet in the kitchen and she still looked quite distracted and afraid.

  “You all right?” he asked her.

  “What?” Gary and Sandy turned to her, too. “Oh yeah. I’m OK. It’s so cold,” she said.

  “It’ll warm up tomorrow,” Johnny said. His eyes radiated the excitement within him. He looked at Sandy. “I’ll walk you home,” he said. “Take it easy,” he told Gary, and they parted. “I’m worried about Sheila,” he said when he and Sandy were far enough from them.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll stick close to her all day tomorrow.”

  “She doesn’t have our sense of commitment,” Johnny said, remembering the way Mr. Lucy phrased it.

  “She will, when the time comes,” Sandy said and for a moment Johnny admired her tone of assurance. It was something that she and Gary and he had gotten from Mr. Lucy. Sheila was more fragile. She needed insulation; she needed protection.

  “Do you like the plan?”

  “Of course,” she said. “It’s Mr. Lucy’s plan, isn’t it?”

  “I helped him think it out. Just before you all arrived,” he added.

  “Really?” She was impressed. “Do you want to come over for a while?”

  “I don’t know.” He saw the disappointment in her face. “Yeah, I suppose I could. Are they home?”

  “Yes, but just ignore them. We’ll go right up to my room.”

  “Your father won’t care?”

  “What if he does? He has no right to complain. Come on,” she said. “I’m cold. I feel like snuggling under the covers.”

  He laughed, but when they got to her house, they hesitated, both recognizing the vehicle parked in the front.

  “Where is he?” Johnny asked in a whisper. “He’s not in the car.”

  “It would be just like my father to invite him in to wait, especially him. He knows the Slatterys.”