Playing Chase (Against The Wall)

by Prestsater, Julie

  My dad doesn’t say anything. He just trots over to the kitchen counter and starts pillaging through the paper bags full of burgers and fries.

  “Oh, hey, Chase. How was work?” I mimic my father’s deep husky voice. “Thanks for asking, Dad. Let’s just say it wasn’t my best first day of school. It definitely could’ve been better.”

  I catch him rolling his eyes. “Give me a break, son. How hard can it be? Tell the kids to open the textbook and read it. That’s how it went in my day.”

  “Things have changed.” The man knows shit about what I do. He has no idea the time and effort I put in to ensure my students learn, and have fun while doing it. You’ll never catch me telling them to just read the text and answer questions at the end of the chapter. That’s old school, and I can’t imagine teachers getting away with that nowadays. Not that I would even try. I welcome the challenge of creating lessons that will keep my students interested.

  Hmm. Maybe I do have some wisdom to impart on the newbie teacher.

  After placing my meal on a paper plate, I make my way to the family room and flip on the TV. As I dig into my Animal Style double cheeseburger, I can’t stop thinking about Tiffany. That woman must have filled three legal pads full of notes today. What the hell was she writing? She should have just recorded the shit. She was a note-taking fool. She should have kicked back, relaxed and enjoyed the show. Her face was head down writing most of the day, how could she possibly get to know the students with that kind of method?

  Tomorrow, I’m going to take the damn notebook away from her and tell her to observe. She can’t get the feel of the classroom if she’s not part of it.

  “This is good. It hit the spot.” My dad pats his stomach before getting to his feet. “I gotta go get ready. I have a date tonight. See you later. Don’t wait up.”

  I didn’t plan on it. It’s a weeknight. I have to go to work tomorrow. Unlike some people.

  “You’re welcome,” I mumble as he makes his way down the hall. He doesn’t hear me. Even if he did, he wouldn’t care. A used paper plate sits on my coffee table. Bastard can’t even throw his trash away.

  I’m surprised my mom stayed married to him as long as she did. I’ve only been living with him for a few weeks, and I’d break up with him too, if he wasn’t my dad.

  The man has issues.

  But then again, so do I.

  Since I can’t fall asleep, I take my iPad from my nightstand and flip open the case to read a book. Hopefully, my eyes will start to close and I will be out within the hour. I’m always nervous the first few weeks of school and it costs me some much-needed rest. It takes me awhile to get to know the kids and fall into a routine that works. It’s always good to start with a plan—Tiffany and I worked through one—but you never know if it’s going to pan out once the students arrive. They’re all different, just like parents say that every child is different. In some ways, teachers are parents too. For some kids, we see them more than their own parents do.

  I scroll through a gallery of book covers trying to decide on one. I finished the latest Michael Crichton last night. It was intense. I need something lighter. Maybe I’ll start a romance. Yes, I’ve been known to plow through some chick books every now and then. They’re surprisingly good, even though they are ridiculously unrealistic. Or maybe I’m just an inferior man, because I promise you I have never gone fifteen to twenty times in one night. I’m fairly certain my dick would fall off if I even tried. Maybe when I was a young boy and first learned how to jack off, could I have gone round after round.

  I have to chuckle at that one.

  I really did think I broke my shit back then. I rubbed one out, one after another, until nothing would come out anymore. I remember being so disappointed because I thought the well had run dry, and I’d never be able to masturbate again. Thankfully, I was just a little over dramatic as a kid and my junk works just fine.

  By the time I can decide on a book, my eyelids are finally getting heavy. I’m about to ditch my iPad when a new email notification alerts.

  From: Melissa Gelson

  To: Chase Marino

  CC: Summer McGallian; Shelly Fuller

  Subject: A day of firsts

  Hey dickface,

  Ready for your first date?

  Sycamore Park. Two weeks from Saturday. 11am. Get there.

  Unless you’re scared…

  I don’t know how Shel and Summer are friends with Melissa. They’re actually nice people. Mel is another story. The woman gets on my nerves with her constant shit talking and pissy attitude. She hates me and doesn’t waste a moment to let me know it either. She looks at me like I’m a piece of shit and not worthy of breathing the same air she breathes.

  Scared of the date? No.

  Scared of Mel? Hell yeah.

  I hit reply allto send them three words:I’ll be there.

  The next morning, I shuffle into my class with a large cup of black dark roast coffee and drooping eyes. I stood in the shower for close to an hour trying to wake my ass up with chilly water, but it didn’t work. Between the email from Mel, my ungrateful live-in, and my new sidekick, I couldn’t stop thinking and get into a deep sleep.

  Speaking of my sidekick, Tiffany beat me in. She has already set up camp in the back of the room at an empty desk I usually use for my student aides.

  She looks up, peering at me over her glasses.

  “Good morning,” I say, trying not to groan.

  “Good morning.” She continues to make adjustments to her workstation, setting out extra note pads, a few highlighters, and a stack of sticky notes.

  Shaking my head at her intensity, I head toward my desk and settle in. Like always, I fire up my computer before I drop my bag on the floor and put my lunch in my mini fridge. I sift through a bunch of emails about various procedures and meeting schedules. By the time I’m done setting up my interactive whiteboard and my handouts for the day, the first bell rings.

  I hear Tiffany take a deep breath and sit up straight looking like someone shoved a stick up her ass. This woman is wound tighter than anyone I know. I thought I saw a glimpse of fun in her eyes when we first met. I guess I was wrong.

  First period goes off without a hitch, but by the middle of second period, I’ve had enough of Tiffany’s constant scrawling of notes, across page after page on her endless supply of paper.

  As I make my rounds up and down each row of student desks, checking up on each student and making sure they are on task, I swipe my student teacher’s notebook from her table, and keep moving. I reach my own desk and toss it on top not even stopping to look at it. I don’t look over at Tiffany either. The hitch in her breath is enough to let me know I shocked the hell out of her. She’s probably confused as hell, but at least she might lift her head up and actually observe what’s going on in here.

  When lunchtime rolls around, Tiffany approaches me with her fists dug into her hips.

  “What did you do that for?” she asks.

  “What?”

  “Take my notes, that’s what.” The skin between her brows furrows and I have to stop myself from laughing.

  “You were distracting me.” I open my fridge and take out my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple.

  “Oh.” That’s all she says, but the furrow stays put and she appears worried. A little cute, too.

  I gesture to a nearby desk. “Wanna sit. Did you bring your lunch?” Yesterday, she went out to the snack bar.

  She turns to walk away, calling over her shoulder. “Yes, I did.” She comes back with an old school brown paper bag and a Mountain Dew. Just looking at the drink makes my heart race. I haven’t had one of those since high school.

  “Nice,” I tell her eyeballing her liquid sugar rush.

  She chuckles, holding up the can. “It’s like crack. I’ve been drinking these since I was a kid. I’m pretty sure if an autopsy was ever done of my body, I’d be just one big sugar cube inside.” She takes a swig. “I can’t kick the habit.”

&n
bsp; I smile with a shake of my head. I have some pretty nasty habits, but I can’t imagine consuming those on a daily basis.

  “Don’t sneer at my choice of beverages. At least my lunch doesn’t look like my mommy made it. The only thing you’re missing is a Snack Pack.”

  With one bite, I inhale half of my sandwich. After I’ve cleared the peanut butter from the roof of my mouth, I tell her, “My crack. Addicted since the fourth grade.”

  She smiles. She should do it more often.

  “And, who said I don’t have a Snack Pack?” I lean back in my chair and swing the fridge door open, take out a small container and toss it to her. Then I take one out for myself.

  “You seriously have chocolate pudding in your mini-fridge?”

  “I do. And since I’ve learned a lot about manners since I was in elementary school, I’m actually going to share with you. You don’t even have to give me something in return.” I realize how that sounds and try to back up a bit. “Got anything good in that paper bag to trade?”

  She smiles again, and dammit, this time I can’t help but grin back at her.

  Shit.

  Tiffany slides her hand into her lunch bag and slowly pulls out a plastic sandwich baggie. “Peanut butter and jelly?” She laughs softly and I can’t hide my smile, even if I wanted to. Seriously? She’s eating a good old-fashioned PB and J for lunch. What are the chances?

  I shake my head clear and get back to my own sandwich, trying hard to stop thinking of the beautiful woman across from my desk. And the little dab of jelly dotting her lip that I wouldn’t mind licking off.

  Fuck! I suck down the rest of my water, trying to occupy my time, so I don’t say or do anything completely stupid or unprofessional, like dragging my student teacher out of her chair and crushing my lips to hers.

  Not a minute later, my mouth opens. I just can’t shut myself up. “So tell me something about yourself other than the fact that you like to consume twelve ounces of sugar for lunch?”

  She chuckles and I’m kind of proud that I could make her laugh. “Well, I come from a huge tight-knit Mexican family. I was always teased in high school, because no matter where I went with my friends, I would always run into an aunt or a cousin somewhere.”

  “I know someone just like that,” I say thinking of Melissa. “I used to love going to her family parties. Good food, good beer, and staying up all night talking.”

  “That’s how my family works too. For the most part it’s great, but there are plenty of times when I wish everyone didn’t know my business.”

  “I can see that being a problem.” My family is so small that I think I’d take the risk.

  “How about you?” she asks between gulps of her soda. “Do you have a big family?”

  “Not at all. I really only have my mom and dad, but I try to talk to my dad as little as possible. When I was in high school, he cheated on my mom and they got divorced.” I laugh. “I can’t believe I just told you that. I never talk about it. With anyone.”

  Tiffany tilts her head to the side and flashes me a sympathetic smile, but doesn’t say anything. I appreciate that she doesn’t try to pry, and just listens.

  “Anyway, my mom knows all my business. I couldn’t keep anything from her if I tried. Sometimes I think she’s a psychic.”

  For a while, we eat in silence. She hands me a napkin. I give her a spoon for her pudding cup and toss the trash we’ve accumulated. It feels routine, like we’ve been eating lunch together for years.

  We’re just finishing up as the bell rings ending our short break.

  “I guess this getting to know you session is to be continued,” Tiffany says. She rises, straightening out her clothes and standing tall—apparently morphing herself back into the uptight woman from only twenty minutes ago. Bummer. I was actually starting to enjoy her softened side, especially when she smiled. Scratch that. Maybe uptight is better. I don’t need another distraction from her, especially not that kind.

  “Can I get my notebook back?” she asks, her tone barely audible.

  “No.”

  She digs her fists into her hips again. “Why not?”

  “You need to pay attention to the class.”

  “I am.”

  The whine that escapes from her mouth makes me chuckle inside. “No, you’re not. You might be listening, but you’re not seeing. I bet you didn’t even notice when Jacob was trying to copy Cindy’s work.”

  “You didn’t say anything.” She lowers her head, catching my drift.

  “I didn’t have to. I just gave him the evil eye and tapped on his paper. But you’re not catching those little things because you’re too busy writing down everything I say.”

  She nods.

  “So, for the rest of the week, just watch.”

  I turn to move back toward my desk. Tiffany is still, so I glance back at her to see if she still has questions. What I don’t expect to see, is her checking out my ass.

  CHAPTER THREE - Summer

  “Well, that’s a wrap,” I tell the new girl. I remember when I was the newbie teacher on campus. Shelly and Mel were total bitches to me, so I refuse to be anything but friendly to this chick. She’s doing her student teaching hours and is assigned to Chase of all people. For one of her assignments, she had to observe another teacher, so Charlie asked me to do him a favor. While I try and stay far away from my ex, I totally adore his boss, and would do just about anything for him.

  “Thank you, Ms. McGallian. Or is it, Mrs. Michaels? I wasn’t sure. I keep hearing conflicting names.” She stares down at the diamond sparkling on my ring finger.

  “I won’t be Mrs. Michaels until October.” I hold up my left hand. “It’s an engagement ring.”

  “A gorgeous one.” She smiles wide, looking dreamy. She’s a cute girl, though a bit young. She must be straight out of college. I hope she has her classroom management skills down or these kids are going to eat her alive. At least she’s dressed appropriately. That’s more than I can say for myself. When I started teaching, I got dolled up in some pretty ridiculous, revealing outfits.

  Well, she could still use some style tips. She has the old librarian thing going on, and she’s way too pretty to hide her figure completely. I bet she’s a beauty with her hair down.

  “Thank you,” I say, when I’m finally done inspecting her. “So how are things going with Mr. Marino?” I try to say his name without gagging or rolling my eyes, but I’m not so sure I pull it off.

  “Really well, actually. I’m learning a lot.” She smiles, her eyes glazing over. Oh no. “He’s a really good teacher. I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I was really surprised. I thought he’d be a flake.”

  I chuckle, breathing a sigh of relief. I thought Tiffany was about to confide in me that she thinks Chase is cute and she likes him, likes him. Thank god she didn’t.

  “Yeah, he is a good teacher. His students really respect him and he spends a lot of time planning. Some teachers leave all their work at school, but not Chase. He takes it all home with him and never turns it off. He even has a little notebook next to his bed to write down lesson plan ideas that come to him in the middle of the night.”

  Tiffany raises a brow at me. Oh shit. I have no idea what possessed me to share that. I chuckle nervously.

  “Oh, uh, Chase and I dated for a minute.”

  “A minute?” Her brow arches higher.

  “A year or so, but that was so long ago.” I’m not sure what to say. It’s not like I want to talk about my past with the new girl.

  She tilts her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at me. “I’m confused. I thought he dated that English teacher.”

  It shouldn’t surprise me to know she’s been privy to the school rumor mill. I guess I shouldn’t say rumor, he did in fact date that English teacher. I should be more surprised that she doesn’t know the whole scoop.

  “Well, Tiff. That master teacher of yours gets around.”

  Pink spreads across her cheeks. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk
about stuff like this.”

  “Maybe we should.” There is no mistaking the sound of Mel’s voice. I turn around, and sure enough, she’s waltzing through the door with Shelly. “Hi,” she holds out her hand to Tiffany, “I’m Melissa Gelson, and this is Shelly Fuller, another victim of Chase Marino, master teacher and master dickwad.”

  I can’t hold back the laughter.

  “I thought you were going to say master…bater,” Shelly says, doubling over with a huge belly laugh.

  All three of us are cracking up while Tiffany stands there with a tiny smirk on her face. I can tell she’s trying to keep her composure.

  “It’s okay, Tiff. You can laugh. It won’t kill ya.” I bump her shoulder with mine and a complete smile spreads across her lips.

  “Okay, that’s what I thought you were going to say too,” she says with a chuckle.

  Mel holds up her index finger to shush us. “All right, let’s be serious for a minute. It would be against the holy grail of sisterhood if we didn’t warn Tiffany about the evil that is Chase Marino. So, let me start.” She clears her throat as Tiffany’s eyes go wide with fear. “Chase is the biggest douchebag to ever walk the halls of Carver High. He may be hot, but no amount of hotness would ever excuse his sorry ass attempt at being a real man.”

  Tiffany winces and I can see it in her eyes that she’s not only uncomfortable, but she’s also taking pity on Chase.

  Shelly must see it too because she begins wagging her finger in the young teacher’s face. “Oh no you don’t, don’t get all gooey eyed for him. That’s why we’re telling you this. It’s for your own good.” She stops with the finger and puts her hands on her hips. “Look, I was engaged to Chase for years. Then, he cheated on me with this hussy over here… .”

  “Hey!” I shout after Shel gestures in my direction.

  “Sorry, Summer. She’s not a hussy. I thought she was, but that was all Chase and his games.”

  “And then,” I continue with my story, “Chase cheated on me, and she was a freaking hussy.”