by Abby Gale
And when the only thing I cared about – my family and happiness – was taken away from me by fate, the cruel bitch, I was just too much trouble for them to give me a chance to be their friend.
Making it into teenage years only made it worse. Just like the rest of the town, the kids at school smile and wave at me in the hallways, or in the cafeteria, but the moment I turn my back they giggle and gossip.
I don't really hold a grudge against them. Maybe I deserve it. Perhaps I'm the evil. Since my own parents can't seem to care about me, why would someone else do it? I sometimes think my parents forgot they have a daughter. I understand them, I mean I'm trying to.
I know they blame me. One moment of distraction, just one moment of panic ripped my family apart. They remember what hurts them when they look at me. And instead, they give themselves to their job. Their careers are their religion. They're the best attorneys in the state.
I'm proud of them, but I'm also scared of their ambition for social status and money. For success. I've heard them fight against each other in court so many times. But sometimes, I wish they’d forget about money and others and just have some time to spare for their daughter. To see things from my perspective.
I sigh and shake my head. This is how it is.
I’ve accepted this life, dealt with being alone, but I hate it.
I’m tired.
I’ve mastered at acting indifferent, but at the age of eighteen, knowing that I’ll leave this town behind me for college, taking nothing valuable from this town hurts.
It’s my hometown, but it’s never felt like home to me, just like the big house I grew up in.
Maybe that’s why I’m writing, and why I want to be a writer. They say writing is a lonely hobby, after all.
And seems like it’s true.
I can't stop thinking about him. Elijah. I don't know what it was between us, but in that short time, he made me smile. He made me feel like a normal teenager. I've never had a crush on any boy before, but there was something about him. He made my heart beat faster. I felt hope that things will get better.
I don't know why he had such power to make me feel that way. Maybe I'm just so hungry for attention, and he was someone new, someone who didn't judge me or look at me with pitiful distaste. I don't know. I'm pathetic to even think about him.
He was a stranger I will never see again.
I just wonder if it’ll ever get better. If I’ll have any friends. If someone will ever love me. If one person’s love will be enough to fill the hole inside me. If, if, if…
Finding the answers to these questions is the only push that keeps me going. Hope. It’s a bitch, but when you have no one else, you take the friendship of that bitch willingly.
I stop writing when my phone on my journal vibrates. It lets me know the first period and lunch break have ended, and I need to go to my next class, English.
I smile. That's the only class I love. I quickly grab my things and push them into my bag.
As I walk back into the main building, I notice everyone is already in their classes. I love this school when hallways are empty and mean faces are gone, but I hate being late. It means everyone’s attention will be on me and whispers will reach to my ears again.
My hand hovers over the doorknob as I prepare myself for my entry.
Taking a deep breath, I twist the doorknob and enter the classroom.
3
Elijah
I thought my time in high school had ended, and I'd never be back, but I was wrong. Just like I was wrong that writing a book will be easy, and success will come quickly.
I snort at my naivety.
I finished college with a perfect 4.0 GPA, and that didn’t mean shit for a career as a writer. The words I put onto paper doesn’t make money to feed me and pay the rent when I can’t find a publisher. As much as I hate the idea of being one of those ordinary adults working nine to five, I have to do it.
So here I am. In a town at the size of my thumb. In front of a well-designed building Madison Hall High School, to teach some posh private school kids. But beggars can't be choosers, and this is the first opportunity in my job hunting. I don't have the luxury to wait for something more appealing. Especially not when my last payment from the Diner I worked in barely covered a few months’ worth of due rent I owed.
I’m sure I’ll be bored to death in this small town, but maybe I can finish the first draft of my novel.
It's just for three months. When the teacher who took time off because of her pregnancy decides to come back, I'll be gone. Hopefully, with a book ready to be sent to the publishers I've already emailed many times.
I sigh.
I hope high school isn’t as bad as I remember.
I look at the gold colored letters, Madison Hall written on the building. High school can be the most crucial time in a person's life. It leaves marks on you, some better than others, but high school changes you from a kid to the first draft of the adult you'll become.
At the age of twenty-six, it still gives me anxiety, and I want to rebel just like I did in my time.
Before taking a step into the big gate, I walk around the building and light up a cigar. Filling my lungs with the deadly smoke one more time.
I stop when I see someone sitting under the big tree. I can't see clearly who it is from where I stand, but that doesn't prevent me being hypnotized. All I see is long black hair, falling in waves to her arms. She sits with her bag on her legs, but it's not what I see that stops me, it's how it feels. Everything about her, from where she sits – far from the school building to how she sits – her back to the world like she doesn't want to face anything and anyone – feels lonely. The writer in me finds something inspiring and beautiful in her melancholy. Taking one last glance at her, I crush the butt under my boot and walk into the school. The ring goes off, and every door in the hallway opens. Voices erupt and the hallway fills with people. Before I'm suffocated between the chaos, I stop a girl.
“Excuse me. I’m looking for the Headmaster.”
The girl licks her lips as she gives me a once over. I suppress my grin and wait for her answer.
“He’s in the other building,” she points.
With a thank you, I turn my back and walk away.
I hear her call out, “You don’t look like a student?”
With the tight dark jeans, combat boots, and leather jacket I sure as hell don’t look like one. I smirk over my shoulder, “I’m not.”
I can still feel her gaze on my back, and I chuckle. The high school girls are still the same it seems. I've had my fair share of women through high school and college and after. But this isn't the same ground as before. Now I'm here as a teacher, and I'm certainly not going to ruining the chance of my livelihood for some young, eager pussy.
There are only three offices in the small building. Counselor, headmaster, and nurse. I knock on the headmaster's door and step in.
“Mr. John? I’m Elijah Richards. We’ve been in touch since last week,” I say.
“Mr. Richards, have a seat. I’ll have to quickly explain what we expect from you because I need to head over to the teachers meeting.”
“Sure,” I say, glad that it’ll be over fast.
"You're a substitute teacher since one of our English teachers is taking time off. You'll be working with one class only. We have appointed teachers for every class here. I think you can clearly see how different and dedicated our school is. We care very much about keeping the kids and their parents happy," he says arrogantly.
I nod with boredom.
He glares. "You can be a temporary teacher, but the same rules apply to you. We care about professionalism. And…" he trails off to look at my attire disapprovingly. "I assume you have a suit. Male teachers are required to wear a white shirt," he finishes.
Instead of answering him, I ask, “When will I start?”
"Today," he snaps, but taking a deep breath, he schools his expression. Grabbing a piece of paper from a drawer he adds
, "In about ten minutes, actually."
I nod.
"We also talked to one of the parents, and they're happy to offer you a place to stay without a rent if you need one. They're the richest family in our town, and they have a guest house you can use," he continues.
My eyes widen slightly. This is an unexpected surprise and one I'm thrilled with. At least I won't have to worry about rent and put it aside for later.
"It's a last-minute arrangement. Our generosity," he adds with arrogance.
“It sounds good,” I say curtly. I don’t like this man. Or maybe it’s just my problem with authority.
“Very well. I’ll stop by your class after the meeting.”
I stand up, giving him a chin up as a way of goodbye before biting out a thank you and leaving his office.
He didn’t even bother to show me the class himself. Prick.
Shaking my head, I walk back to the main building.
Me… a teacher. I snort.
Let’s see how it’ll go.
When I find the classroom allocated to me, I open the door. Even though the room is darker than I’d like, it’s definitely better than I thought, but then again, everything in this school seems like a fucking luxurious hotel.
I turn on the lights. Placing my laptop bag on the table, I sit on the chair and wait for kids to come.
Someone else in my situation would probably try to prepare a teaching schedule. Not me. I hate those things, and I know all these kids read a summary from the internet to whatever their previous teacher made them read. So instead, I'll teach them what I like, and they'll have to deal with it.
The first student comes into view with so much swagger, I roll my eyes, and a few more guys follow him with crude jokes and laughter. All have the same cardigan. Basketball team maybe. And the one on the front with his arm wrapped around a giggling girl must be the school's golden boy.
A skinny kid with thick glasses enters next. Trying to put as much distance between him and the group. The Nerd… who I'm sure was targeted by those idiots.
A dark-skinned girl and a typical mean girl type blondie come in after with their cheerleading outfits, glaring at each other. Cheerleader problems…
Students keep coming in, and I know all their types. The artist. The musician. The emo. The one who is probably working on her campaign as student president.
I shake my head. Different year. Different school. Different kids, but the same types. I wonder if this ridiculous high school dramas and clichés will ever stop.
All kids sit at the empty chairs, looking at me with frowns and questions on their faces.
I sigh and stand up to walk around the table. Placing my ass on the table, I cross my arms over my chest.
“I’m Elijah Richards. Your English teacher for now.” With boredom dripping from my voice, I add, “Introduce yourself if you want.”
When one of the cheerleaders starts, I take off my leather jacket.
I've already forgotten the name of the kids when the door opens, and the most beautiful creature I've ever seen walks into my class. I've been thinking of her since last night, hoping I'll see her again. And here she is… in the place I least expect her to be. Her blue eyes captivate me first, just like they did last night in that bar. They’re mysterious and deep like the horizon between the ocean and the sky. You just want to keep pursuing it until you're too far away from the land. Her heart-shaped face glows in the daylight. The dark waves framing it put emphasis on her creamy skin. Her cherry colored lips part with shock I assume, are full and swollen like they'd been around a cock. The thought turns my hand into a fist with the sudden arousal.
Fuck. How many times had I jerked off last night to her image and now she’s here…
Dammit, she's here, and I have no idea how to control the swirling hunger inside me.
I blink a few times, hoping my mind is playing a trick on me.
But no. She stands there in all her breathtaking glory.
I clear my throat and take one step toward her, but stop when she gasps.
My gaze falls to her breasts. My lips go dry with the sight of her cleavage in from the white shirt she's wearing. The buttons fight to keep the fabric covering the mouth-watering curve of her tits intact. Swallowing, I force myself to look back at the class full of students like they're the most interesting, smartest kids in the world, even though all I want is some privacy with her so I can hear how loud she can be as I fuck her in every position.
She clears her throat, asking for my attention like every nerve ending in my body isn't already attuned to hers. Even though I know damn well I should keep my eyes away from her for the sake of self-control, I can't resist the temptation of one last glance. My eyes move up from her unlaced black boots to the creamy skin of her legs. The legs that go for miles. The pleated black skirt she's wearing sits in the middle of her thighs. I grit my teeth with the sudden image of her bent over my desk. I wouldn't even need to lift her skirt up to see what's underneath. A little bend and she'd show me the perfect heaven between her legs. I wonder if she tastes like cherry just like her lips remind me of.
I meet her gaze that looks embarrassed, confused, amused, happy and maybe a little aroused if I let my wishful thinking get in the way.
Dammit.
She’s a student, I remind myself, like that needed any clarification.
A student, I repeat. And from her way of redesigning the school uniform, I can tell she's a handful. My eyes move to her breasts one more time. Yes… definitely a perfect handful.
I curse under my breath.
“Name?” I grit out, even though I know her name.
“Evangeline Faye,” she whispers.
“Well, Miss Faye. You better take a seat so we can start the class, don’t you think? Or do you like the attention way too much?” I snap at her. I didn’t mean to snap, but I’m barely holding onto my control. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind giving her all my attention. All night, and the morning after that. If we were alone in this room, I’m not sure the fact she was a student would make any difference in my need to fuck her to the middle of next week.
Fuck!
Why does she have to be in my class? Why not another school? And why doesn’t she look… less beautiful?
I’m suddenly so angry with her for coming to my class like this…
Beautiful.
Sexy.
Seductive.
Like a wet dream I don't want to wake up from.
God, how I want to fuck her. I bet those tits would look delicious as she rides my cock.
Yes, I fuck everything I find good to look at, but this gorgeous little girl is like no one I've never come across. I've never thought of a woman as much as I thought of this girl since I saw her in that bar last night and we didn't even fuck. It's like she has a direct wire to my dick and brain. Probably in that order.
I groan inwardly. I’m a damn teacher in this school and I bet on my next breath fucking a student is illegal.
Elijah Richards, you’re screwed.
4
Eva
I sit on the first chair because I don't trust my legs to carry me further than that.
How is this possible?
He told me he was gonna start a job in town, but a teacher? I thought he'll maybe work in a Diner like he said he did in Seattle.
I look at him again under my lashes. God, he looks even better today.
My body came alive the moment I saw him in this classroom. Like a naughty fantasy. The throbbing all over my body makes me dizzy.
What is this?
I place my bag on the floor next to my chair, and a shadow falls over me. When I lift my head, I realize taking the first seat wasn't the best idea. The first chair means, I'm directly in front of him. Elijah, the guy I keep thinking of since yesterday… Mr. Richards, my new English teacher. I swallow as his eyes roam over my face. I'm the first target of those blazing eyes. I quickly straighten my back as he looks at me. And his eyes fall to my breasts just like l
ast night.
My mouth goes dry, and I lick my lips. He watches my mouth, and with a soft shake of his head, he turns his head away from me.
“I’m not good at names, I’ll probably forget all of yours,” he says, looking at the other students in the class.
“Okay. I know I’m a substitute teacher and our time will probably be limited, which is good. High schools aren’t my thing. But I still need to teach you something, so I’ll teach you one thing I like, Writing.”
“Won’t you follow the teaching plan, Mr. Richards?” Brian asks.
“No. My class, my rules.”
I wonder if this is his first attempt at teaching because it’s obvious he doesn’t like teaching or being here. Last night, I saw a spark in him, a spark blazing so passionately as he talked about reading and writing. But now, in this class that spark is missing. Instead, he has a bored expression.
“Okay. In this first lesson, I’ll talk to you about general things, and we’ll go with questions. Who loves reading?” he asks.
I hesitantly lift my hand up. Looking around the class, I see I’m the only one. Really? I was hoping at least Brian, the class nerd would join me, but maybe he’s too stunned that Mr. Richards won’t follow the rules.
Mr. Richards doesn't look at me, and I feel a sense of disappointment as he frowns and nods. "I can't say I'm surprised, but I'll have to admit, I'm disappointed." He sighs before asking, "Can you name the top three books you've read and rather liked?"
Everyone looks anywhere but at him. No one wants to answer. Even though I’d answer him in a heartbeat, he doesn’t even spare me a glance. Maybe he doesn’t like seeing me in his class. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll be clingy now that I kind of know him. So I stay silent.
“I’ve read Fifty Shades of Grey series,” Alicia, one of the cheerleader captains says with a giggle.