by Jordan Lynde
‘I accept too,’ a dark-haired boy – Tyler? – grumbled. ‘Coach will kill me if I miss more than just this game.’
‘Same,’ Mason said with a grimace.
‘What about the people that don’t play soccer? Is there any kind of deal I could interest you in?’ I asked, my eyes searching around the room. ‘Or is letting you off detention enough?’
‘I think it’s enough,’ Arden said. ‘Fair is fair is fair, right?’
As the soccer players grabbed their bags and pushed and shoved their way out the door, heading for the locker room, I felt a clap on my back and I jumped slightly, turning to Zak – I’d forgotten he was standing beside me. He grinned down at me, placing my glasses back on my face; my eyes widened in surprise when I realized I hadn’t had them on. Embarrassed, I fixed them, giving him a warning look. ‘My glasses stay on my face,’ I warned him.
‘Good job,’ he responded. ‘Bribery is a good way to handle delinquents.’
‘What? No, no, it’s not bribery,’ I denied. ‘It’s deal-making.’
‘Sure,’ he said skeptically with another grin. ‘Whatever you say.’
‘Zak!’
‘It’s bribery,’ another voice agreed, and I turned my head to see Arden by my side now too.
‘No it’s not!’
‘Well, Ms Allen, since we don’t get to bake those delicious cookies, what are we doing for the rest of class?’ he asked, changing the topic.
The remainder of the class – all five of them – now refocused its attention on me. I scratched the back of my head sheepishly. ‘Well . . . I actually thought it was going to take longer for me to convince you guys about the deal – which if you guys break your end, you can expect detention again,’ I added, eying everyone individually. ‘Understood?’
‘Understood,’ they echoed with the exception of one. Tucker just rolled his eyes.
I nodded to myself. ‘Good. Well, because we’re missing quite a bit of the class now, it’d be pointless to do anything. Why don’t you use it as a study hall?’ I suggested. ‘Tomorrow we’ll start baking again . . . and I swear, if there’s a food fight—’
‘There won’t be,’ Arden assured me. ‘I’ll make sure of that.’
I turned to him now as the class began chatting amongst themselves. ‘Um . . . thanks.’
‘No problem, Harley.’
‘I told you not to—’
‘Relax,’ Arden said with a small laugh. ‘No one else is listening.’
I sighed again. Well, he was right. I glanced at the door again, frowning. Oliver probably wasn’t going to show up. Was he really skipping? The thought made me irritated. If he thought he could get away with skipping my class, he’d definitely thought wrong.
Chapter Seven
Friday morning was a relief when it came. The good thing was that after my little deal with the seniors, I hadn’t had a major problem with them for the rest of the week. However, Oliver hadn’t shown up for class again and he’d even stopped showing up sixth period when he was supposed to help prep. But that was really the only problem left for me to tackle.
As I was walking in the entrance to the school, I bumped into Emma Rose.
‘Ms Allen, right?’ she greeted me with a smile.
Somehow her presence eased me. ‘Yep. Good morning.’
‘Morning. Mind if I walk with you?’
‘Sure.’
She let out a soft sigh. ‘It’s so nice in the morning before the students arrive, isn’t it?’
‘It’s very quiet,’ I agreed.
‘How have you been adjusting? I heard you had a rough first day,’ Emma said, giving me a sympathetic look.
I shrugged. ‘It’s not so bad now.’
‘You must get hassled about your young looks.’
I grinned and nodded. ‘You got it.’
‘It’s not so bad when you get used to it,’ she promised me. ‘The students aren’t too horrible if you give them a chance. Of course, there are always a handful of troublemakers. But a lot of students come here because their parents freaked out on them for making one mistake. So don’t label them all as bad.’
Her words made an image of Melissa pop into my head: she really didn’t seem like she fitted in here – what was her story? ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’ I knew it was wrong to label all the students here as bad. Most of them probably weren’t.
She squeezed my shoulder. ‘No problem. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to come see me.’
‘Thanks,’ I said again, smiling at her.
‘Well, I’m off this way,’ she said, taking a right down one of the hallways.
I stayed straight, going down the hallway that led to my classroom. As soon as it came into view, the door opened and Tucker appeared, rushing out of the room. He turned and stared directly at me, a scowl instantly appearing on his face.
I frowned at him. ‘What were you doing in—?’
‘None of your business!’ he snapped, turning his back on me and storming down the hallway in the opposite direction.
Unimpressed, I walked into my classroom. What was his problem? This was the fourth day in a row I’d caught him leaving my classroom before I was even in it, and every time he’d leave before I could actually see what he was doing. He had no right to have that attitude with me.
On Tuesday he had made the floor wet, Wednesday the faucet had been left running, and yesterday one of the cabinet doors in the supply room had been open and I’d banged my head on it. Was he pulling pranks on me? Cautiously I walked across the classroom, feeling for any slippery areas. None showed up. I checked to see if there was glue on my chair. Nope.
I frowned slightly, but shrugged it off. I would just have to catch Tucker in action to figure out what he was doing in my room so early every day. Sitting at my desk, I pulled out the previous teacher’s planner book and opened it, going over today’s schedule. Another dessert was on the menu for today. Frowning, I glanced down at my stomach. Whatever we made I always ended up eating . . . if this kept up I was going to gain two hundred pounds a month.
‘I can’t say if I like casual Friday or not . . .’
I looked up from my desk to see Arden walking into the room, his face pulled into an unsure expression, and I glanced at the clock to realize homeroom had already ended. Arden was still staring at me when I returned my attention to him. For a minute I was confused . . . until I realized that he was checking me out. While doing my best not to blush, I gave him the harshest glare I could summon.
‘Stop checking me out,’ I commanded.
‘On one hand, you look great in those jeans,’ Arden commented thoughtfully. ‘But on the other hand, you look much younger than usual.’
‘How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t say that kind of stuff?’ I snapped, the blush now appearing on my face. ‘You’re going to get us both into trouble! I’m your teacher – you can’t hit on me.’
‘Technically I’m not hitting on you,’ Arden commented with a wink. ‘And it’s not my fault I like older women.’
I smiled wryly. He only liked older women when he thought they were older than him. ‘I don’t care; I’m still a teacher, so please refrain from those kind of comments.’
‘But we are the only two in here, Harley,’ Arden said, coming closer to my desk. ‘No one will know . . .’
‘I will, though,’ I responded, eyeing him cautiously. ‘Take your playboy-ness somewhere else.’
Arden chuckled. ‘You’re so unexciting.’
‘Well, I am a teacher,’ I responded with a grin.
Arden caught my eye and frowned slightly. ‘Seriously, though, I’d be careful about what you wear. You look more like a student today than a teacher.’
Frowning slightly, I looked down at my outfit: a pair of faded blue jeans and a plain black zip-up hoodie with a white tank top underneath. It was a simple outfit. Teachers wore this stuff all the time, didn’t they? And it was casual Friday. I looked back at Ard
en and shrugged. ‘Everyone looks younger in normal clothing compared to formal clothing,’ I said calmly.
‘Very true,’ Arden commented. ‘You look cute too.’
‘I said, stop with the comments,’ I responded. ‘You’ll get me in trouble.’
‘Que sera sera,’ Arden responded, waving his hand.
I rolled his eyes. ‘No, because I need this job more than you could ever know.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘How come?’
I sighed, turning to face Arden. ‘Just because. Have you seen Oliver lately?’
Immediately a scowl appeared on his face. ‘No. Why?’
‘Well, he’s been skipping class all week, and he’s been ditching me during sixth period when he’s supposed to help me prep,’ I said, rubbing my forehead.
‘Isn’t it better this way?’
‘What?’
‘Without Oliver, the class is so much better,’ Arden told me. ‘Someone like him shouldn’t be in it.’
‘What do you mean by “someone like him”?’
‘He’s a cold, callous, son of a—’
‘Watch your mouth,’ I snapped before he could finish.
He looked at me in surprise. ‘You’re sticking up for him?’ Arden snorted. ‘What? Did you fall for his English accent?’
‘No. I just don’t appreciate you swearing.’
Arden blinked at me in surprise. ‘Oh, that . . . I swear all the time—’
‘Well, don’t around me,’ I advised him. ‘I have a younger brother and I don’t want to pick up habits that might be picked up by him.’
‘Don’t your parents swear?’
My eyes widened slightly and I stared at him in surprise. He returned my look with a questioning one. That’s right; he didn’t know my parents were dead. Swallowing, I shook my head slowly.
‘Um, no, my parents don’t swear . . .’
‘Really? That’s rare nowadays,’ he commented with a shrug. ‘Oh well, but I can’t guarantee I won’t slip up a few times.’
‘That’s fine,’ I said quietly, returning my attention to the planner on my desk.
Why couldn’t I tell Arden my parents were dead? For some reason I didn’t want anyone to know . . . But why? I drummed my fingers against my desk, frowning. Someone was going to find out sooner or later.
‘What do you need me to do today?’
I glanced back up at Arden, who was standing patiently by my desk. ‘Umm . . . I guess we could start melting the chocolate . . .’
Sixth period came quickly, and I waited as the bell rang for Oliver to enter the room. Fifteen minutes into the period, I figured he wasn’t going to show up. I sighed in frustration as I headed to the supply closet to prep by myself, debating whether to tell the principal or not. Oliver was skipping class, which was against the rules . . . but why was he? Was it something I did? Something I said? I was slightly offended. What could I have done? I racked my memories, but couldn’t find anything. Had I said something accidentally? Sure, he’d gotten in trouble for the food fight, but that was inevitable. There was no other reason for him to be angry.
My slump lasted until seventh period. Zak was the first one in the room and he came straight up to my desk with a grin. ‘Morning, Ms Allen!’
‘It’s afternoon,’ I said.
‘Right, right,’ Zak responded, waving his hand. ‘I have some great news for you!’
‘Do you?’
‘Luke, Joey, bring him in!’
I turned my attention to the door. Luke and Joey came in, and to my surprise Oliver was being held between them.
‘Let me go,’ Oliver demanded, trying to pull himself free. ‘You guys, whose side are you on?’
‘We made a promise to Zak,’ chirped Luke. ‘Besides, if you skip too much class you can be expelled.’
‘This class isn’t worth my time,’ Oliver said.
I shot him a dirty look. ‘Nice of you to finally show, Mr Fox.’
‘Whatever.’
‘As a reward, I say I get to leave early,’ Zak interjected, giving me a wide grin.
I grinned a little bit. ‘Not happening, sir. Take your seats.’
Joey and Luke took Oliver to his seat before letting go of him. Scowling, Oliver sat down, glaring out the window. I narrowed my eyes at him slightly. What was his problem?
‘Oh, look who decided to show up! The great Oli!’
My attention snapped to the door where Arden and Tucker were standing. Tucker glared at me for a moment and I grimaced – if they weren’t in different school cliques, I had a feeling he and Oliver would be great buddies.
‘Don’t even start on me,’ Oliver said, narrowing his eyes at Arden.
‘You decided to stop being a loser and come to class for once?’ Arden continued, walking into the classroom farther. ‘How wonderful.’
‘Arden,’ I warned.
‘You should really learn to shut that hole on your face,’ Oliver responded, standing up from his desk.
‘How come you haven’t been showing up for class, Oli?’
‘I have better things to do.’
‘Like what? Play in your sandbox?’
I raised an eyebrow. What kind of insult was that? Arden grinned smugly at Oliver as Oliver approached him. Oliver stopped less than a meter away, glaring at him. Now it was my turn to cut in. I walked up to them, putting myself between their bodies.
‘There won’t be any fighting in my classroom,’ I warned them both, looking over my shoulder meaningfully at Arden. ‘Oliver, go sit back down.’
‘Don’t tell me what to do.’
‘I’m your teacher!’ I said. ‘Go sit now.’
Oliver scowled at me for a few minutes before turning around. I turned to Arden, who was pouting.
‘You sit down too,’ I ordered.
‘You ruin my fun,’ Arden responded, trudging to his seat.
Letting out a sigh, I turned my attention back to the whole class. ‘Let’s try to get through class without fighting, OK? Recipes are on your tables, so you can get started. Oliver, can I speak to you in the hall?’
Oliver rolled his eyes, but stood up nonetheless. He followed me into the hallway and I shut the door behind us. ‘Why have you been skipping?’ I asked, short and to the point.
‘Waste of time,’ he answered simply, looking bored.
‘You do realize you need this class to graduate, right?’
‘Point?’
I did my best to keep my face straight, even though I kind of wanted to punch him. ‘So, technically I can kick you out since you’ve been skipping it so much. One word to the principal . . .’
Oliver’s jaw tightened and he stared moodily at the wall. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Oliver, please,’ I said, exasperated. ‘All I’m asking you to do is show up for class. Make an effort to come to it. Even if you think it’s stupid.’
Oliver’s gaze shifted onto me, eyes sharp and blue. ‘Why do you want me to show up so bad?’
Taken aback, it took me a second to respond. ‘Because . . .’ I hesitated, thinking of a reason. Why did I want so much for him to show up? I shouldn’t care if he wanted to be in class or not. Yet I did. ‘Because I don’t want to be the reason you can’t graduate,’ I decided on at last.
Oliver gave me a curious look before shrugging his shoulders. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he replied before slipping back into the classroom.
I stared after him for a moment before sighing. At least he had decided to stay today. Hopefully this would be a first step of progress.
I went back to my desk. ‘Today we’re going to be learning about meat temperatures, how to check them, and the risks of uncooked meats. It’s pretty basic, so you guys might already know a lot of this. For example, what do you have a chance of catching if you eat raw chicken?’
Ten pairs of eyes blinked at me. No one raised his hand.
‘Come on. It’s simple,’ I prompted.
F
inally Zak raised his hand. ‘Salmonella?’
‘Correct,’ I said nodding. ‘Some uncooked meat has this bacterium in it. It basically causes food poisoning. You need to cook chicken thoroughly to kill the bacterium. Unlike with red meat, you can’t eat it in a medium-rare state.’
‘I thought that salmonella kills you?’ Luke asked.
I shook my head. ‘The chances of it killing you really aren’t that high. I mean, like in all cases of any bacterial disease it can kill you, but mainly it just makes you really sick.’
‘So it does kill you.’
‘It can.’
‘But I was kind of right.’
I rolled my eyes, but smiled nonetheless. This was going to be a long lesson.
I trudged into Will’s apartment after school, letting out a wide yawn. It had started to rain as soon as I’d left school, which made me both irritated and a little on edge – rain usually led to bad things. Will appeared in the living room seconds later, a pleading look on his face. I didn’t like that look.
‘Could you do me a favor?’ he asked.
‘Depends.’
‘Just run to the grocery store so we can have dinner tonight?’
‘Pig?’ Elliot appeared in the living room, looking at me with big eyes. ‘I want to go to the grocery store with Pig too!’
‘It’s already four, and I wanted to take a nap,’ I complained, glancing at the clock. ‘And it’s raining.’
‘I want to go!’ Elliot complained, pulling on my shirt. ‘Please, Pig!’
‘Yeah, please, Pig?’
I glowered at Will and he laughed sheepishly, scratching his head. Elliot looked at me imploringly and I sighed. ‘OK, fine. But it’ll be quick. Get your shoes on, Eli.’
‘OK!’ Elliot cried excitedly.
‘Thank you,’ Will said, putting a hand on my shoulder.
‘You watch Elliot all the time, so it’s the least I can do,’ I responded, waving my hand in dismissal.
Elliot reappeared, wearing one blue sneaker and one white one. ‘I’m ready, Pig!’
I grimaced. ‘Elliot . . . you know, wearing matching shoes isn’t a crime.’
He just grinned at me. ‘I like my shoes.’
Rolling my eyes, I nodded toward the door. ‘Whatever, let’s just go.’