Forever Destiny

by Mia Rodriguez

  Principal Bleaker held the phone very close to his mouth as if he was ready to glue his lips to it. “Let me just say Superintendent Morales what a great job you’re doing. I know you just got here like I did, but you're doing a magnificent job.”

  Lorenzo rolled his eyes. What a kiss ass.

  Hanging up the phone, Principal Bleaker’s whole demeanor shifted. The sickingly sweet posturing was completely gone as he sat up straight with his head tilting down towards Lorenzo. Even though Lorenzo stood at least five inches taller than Bleaker, his chair was much shorter. One of the first changes Bleaker made when he arrived at the school was to switch out the chairs. He made certain he stood much higher than the person across his desk.

  “I called you in, Mr. Montes, because we need to talk,” he snapped.

  “We do?”

  “Your teaching leaves much to be desired.”

  “What?” What is this idiot saying?

  “I’m afraid you’re not a very good teacher, and it’s my job to tell you.”

  I’m not putting up with this crap. “What do you base that opinion on?” Lorenzo asked furiously.

  “You baby your students.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’re in one of the poorest districts in the country. These students are lacking in everything.”

  “Yes, they lack for things,” Lorenzo said angrily, “but not brains.”

  “You’ve got to be tougher. That’s the only way they’ll make it out there, at least some of them will,” Bleaker announced wistfully.

  The nauseating churning in Lorenzo's stomach burned with scorching acid. The fire in his eyes flickered. “Principal Bleaker, if you had bothered to look into my success rate you would’ve seen that the majority of my students pass my class and even start doing better in their other classes. I wasn’t hired to be a drill sergeant. I was hired to teach and that’s what I do. I won’t push the weaker to the wayside to let the tougher ones through,” he snapped, standing up. “My free hour is almost over. I’ve got a class to teach. Is there anything else?”

  Bleaker’s icy blue eyes stared into him. “No, I’ve got nothing else to say but a piece of advice, Mr. Montes. It would do you good to remember who’s in charge here.”

  “How can I forget?” he expressed sarcastically as he left.

  When he arrived at his empty classroom, Lorenzo plopped down on his chair. Even though he was more energized than tired, he needed to contain the roaring fire. The bell would be ringing soon and his students would be rushing in. It would be good to be composed by that time.

  Underneath the burn in his stomach, Lorenzo felt a certain release for some unexplainable reason. It was as if a tight, stubborn knot in his stomach was coming loose—an old, petrified knot that could only come loose with a forceful yank. Telling the principal off had unnerved him because he wasn't used to being so flagrantly disrespectful, but it had also freed a long breath inside of him.

  Chapter 11

  Concerned about one student in particular, Ema Beltran, Valeria asked to speak to her in private. Trying to have a serious conversation in the middle of a busy class didn't square with her. An intimate talk sounded much better where she would squeeze the words out of her student if she had to.

  During Valeria's free hour, she waited patiently for the problematic but unique pupil. Completely closed off, Ema rarely let anyone into her sealed world. During lunch she ate by herself, and in class she wouldn’t speak to anybody or even answer the teacher's questions. Even though she’d rarely do her homework, her class work showed brilliance. Ema had a way of looking straight into the heart of literature.

  “I’m here,” Ema said with a frown, standing in front of Valeria's desk. Her shoulder length black hair was gathered in a severe and careless ponytail while her make-up free gamin-pretty face showed impatience.

  “Please sit down.”

  Ema plopped down in front of the teacher's desk. Valeria, however, stood up and dragged her chair next to her student. Ema looked visibly surprised.

  “Thank you for coming, Ema.”

  She smiled weakly. “I didn’t have a choice. You’re the teacher.”

  “Yes, but you could’ve blown me off.”

  “That wouldn’t have been nice.”

  Valeria smiled warmly, nodding her head. “Can you guess the reason I asked you to come here?”

  “My work? I know I’m not doing very well.”

  “Ema,” she sighed, “that's not the problem.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “No, the real problem is that you don’t want to do well.”

  Ema furrowed her eyebrows. “What?”

  “Why won’t you do all the work?”

  “I just can’t do it,” Ema rushed.

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t understand it."

  “Don't give me that,” Valeria stated.

  “What?”

  “Don’t play this game with me, Ema.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “You’re smarter than almost anyone in the class.”

  “I’m not. I’m—"

  “Ema,” she chastised. “You're as bright as they come, but you won’t give your full effort.”

  Furious flares burst out of Ema. “All you teachers do is stay on my back!”

  “What?”

  “Mr. Montes is so mean to me that I just don’t feel like being here.”

  “He’s mean to you?”

  “Yes, he tells me I’m too stupid to do my work.”

  “He tells you that?” Valeria asked, shocked.

  “Yes, and I don’t know about you but I hate being called stupid.”

  Valeria put her shaky hand to her heart seconds before it became knurled in a tight fist. She knew he was rude but not this rude. “I’m sorry, Ema. You're not stupid, and I don’t know why he would say that,” she said, between her teeth.

  The bell rang and Ema stood up. “I’ve got to get to my next class, Ms. Loya.”

  “Go ahead, Ema. I’ll finish talking with you later.”

  After Ema had left, Valeria looked through the long glass on her door. Lorenzo seemed immersed in his lesson, as if he was a caring and conscientious teacher. What a catastrophic lie! She angrily shook her head. This cannot be left like this, she said to herself. No way! He's worse than a raving bull that's loose in a grocery store.

  When the school day finally came to a close, Valeria gathered her frustrations and marched straight up to Lorenzo in his classroom. His eyebrows shot up in curiosity as soon as he saw her determined, furious face.

  “I need to speak to you,” she demanded.

  Lorenzo eyed her intently. “What can I do for you?”

  “I had a talk with Ema Beltran today.”

  “You did?” he asked, curiosity in his voice.

  “I’m going to report you to the principal.”

  “What?” he asked, flabbergasted.

  “Calling your students stupid is totally irresponsible and inexcusable.”

  “Calling my students stupid?” he asked, his tone puzzled.

  “Yes, Ema told me you had called her stupid.”

  “What?”

  “You told her she was stupid.”

  He shook his head. “What I said was—”

  “I don’t want to hear your excuses!” she declared as she started to leave.

  “Valeria,” he fumed, “how can you step into my classroom and start yelling at me? Accusing me of—"

  She slammed the door behind her. She just couldn’t stay in the classroom with that man a moment longer. Marching up to Principal Bleaker’s office, she asked him if she could take a moment of his time. He grinned at her with a smile she didn’t particularly like.

  “I’ve been wanting to meet with you privately,” he said, his eyes swept over her.

  Bile rose to Valeria's throat. She hated being treated as if she was a piece o
f meat.

  “I try to meet with all of my teachers in private,” he continued. “It keeps us in touch.”

  “You mean it keeps the communication lines open?”

  He frowned harshly. “Maybe but most importantly it keeps me in the flow of what is really going on. As the principal, the man in charge, I need to keep close tabs on everything my teachers are doing.”

  What a jerk! Valeria despised micromanagers. Instead of managing, they ruled with an iron fist, making everyone around them miserable while getting off on the feeling of power.

  “I just needed to talk to you about—"

  “You know, Ms. Loya, it’s hard having so much responsibility thrust upon you. You’ve got to be really tough, really strong. You know what Shakespeare said about the crown being a burden?”

  Valeria glared at him, flabbergasted and with disgusted disbelief. “’Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown?’”

  “Yes,” he stated.

  “Anyway, I’m here because—"

  “Yes, uneasy is the man with the crown. Very uneasy.”

  “But—"

  “You have no idea what it’s like—no idea,” he insisted.

  The jerk won’t let me talk. As soon as those words formed in her mind, a realization struck her, one that jolted her fiercely. I’m a jerk. I didn’t let Lorenzo speak. I didn’t let the man defend himself. Now she was stuck with this jackass, this human plague, who she would do everything possible to avoid from that day forward.

  Valeria abruptly stood up. “Thank you for letting me talk to you. I’ve got to go.”

  Principal Bleaker furrowed his eyebrows. “Did you have something you needed to tell me?”

  “I just wanted to say that I know I’m new here, but it’s a great school and I’m proud to be here.”

  “A great school?” he scoffed, his whole face in a tight frown.

  Valeria abhorred when people only saw value in material things, and when they saw no value in other people or places because of a lack in prestige. Despite the ridiculous saying about how much people were worth, people weren't worth money. People were priceless no matter what walk of life they came from in her firm opinion.

  “Yes, a great school,” Valeria stated, fierce annoyance in her voice. “Full of hardworking students.”

  “But—“

  “I’ve got to go,” she announced coldly.

  “Okay,” he mumbled.

  Valeria hurried out, hoping frantically that she would catch Lorenzo, but he wasn’t in his classroom. Disappointment and shame ate at her like a chicken pecking grain off the ground. She’d have no choice but to catch up to him the next day, she thought forlornly as she headed for her car. As she neared it, someone stood quietly next to it. With overwhelming surprise, she found it was a furious and seething Lorenzo.

  “You left me with the words in my mouth, not letting me explain anything,” he threw out angrily once she reached him. “Con la palabra en la boca!” he emphasized.

  “I—“

  “I know you went to Principal Bleaker and you know what? I don’t care. The man is a moron anyway.”

  Valeria started chuckling loudly. “I know.”

  “What?”

  “I know he’s a moron.”

  “You do?”

  “I just found out. By the way, I didn’t say anything about the Ema Beltran business.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “I realized the man was a jerk and left his office.”

  “I want you to know that I didn’t call Ema Beltran stupid. I’m not the kind of a teacher who intimidates students.”

  Valeria stared deeply into the sincerity of his eyes. “I’m sorry, Lorenzo. I should’ve let you explain instead of shooting my mouth off.”

  “Yes, you should’ve.”

  “I’m really worried about that student.”

  “So am I.”

  “Would you let me make it up to you, and let me buy you a soda?” Valeria asked hopefully. “Maybe we can try to figure something out about her.”

  “Sure.”

  The one short word that had come off his tongue so naturally and quickly had released the tension and disappointment of possible rejection. He had said yes to her.

  As they arranged to meet at a nearby restaurant, she was deeply aware of how his eyes looked into her with attentiveness instead of sweeping lasciviously over her like Bleaker's stare had done. His words weren't spiked with boastful talk, and he definitely didn't carry a limelight with him. Lorenzo Montes was much easier to like and admire than she had previously thought.

  Chapter 12

  As Lorenzo drove to the Mexican restaurant, Antojitos, he anxiously watched the speedometer, wishing he could travel faster but he was already at speed limit. His usual calm self was nowhere to be found as he grew uncharacteristically impatient with slow cars. Luckily, all his traffic lights had been green—all of them.

  Finally arriving at his destination, a quiet smile spread over his lips as he approached Valeria. Her curly hair fell to her waist as wild as ever and her dark, shiny eyes throwing sparks of life.

  “I really need to apologize again,” she said as soon as they were seated in the simple restaurant with the red tablecloths, square tables, and dark wood chairs. A radio set on a Mexican station sat in a corner, over a small table and belted out ballads in Spanish—the kind that usually made Lorenzo squirm with discomfort but that he was actually and surprisingly enjoying at the moment.

  The waitress took their order. Valeria wanted a glass of lemonade and Lorenzo a Coke but both declined an entrée. This isn’t a date, he said to himself. And it can’t seem like one. Instead, they both ordered appetizers—spicy hot chicken wings and nachos loaded with cheddar cheese, pinto beans, and ground beef.

  “You don’t need to keep apologizing, Valeria,” he stated.

  “Yes, I do. I burst into your office like a nutcase.”

  “I want you to know—absolutely have it clear—that I would never call a student stupid.”

  Even at his most blunt self, he’d never do something like that. His parents had taught him better. Even if they lived in Albuquerque, far away from him, their gracious influence still touched him. When he was younger, very shy and very solitary, they had coaxed him out of his shell, as far out as someone like him would go.

  She nodded. "I want you to know that I can go a little or a lot overboard when it comes to my students. Sometimes I act before I use my head."

  He chuckled. “It’s good that you are so passionate about teaching.”

  “Our students have so much going against them. They need someone on their side, you know?”

  Lorenzo smiled lightly, his hand aching to touch the softness of hers. “Yes, I know.”

  “I believe that with understanding, attention, and faith in them, I can help. I know it’s naive of me,” Valeria said quietly.

  Lorenzo nodded, his dark eyes with a deep shine. “If that’s naive then call me naive too. I tend to think that the world needs more idealists.”

  Her soft smile became a gentle grin. “Why did you get into teaching?”

  “Actually, I’ve never wanted to do anything else.”

  “Really?” she asked, the gentle grin becoming an outright strong one.

  “Yes, what about you?”

  “Same thing.”

  “You always wanted to be a teacher too?”

  “My favorite game as a little girl was playing classroom. Guess who was always the teacher?”

  He chuckled with a hearty laugh that came from deep inside. “I was five when I told my parents I’d be a teacher. They thought I’d grow out of it and want to be something else like most children do, but here I am.”

  She smiled with such warmth that Lorenzo had to look away. “About Ema . . .”

  “Yes?” he said, looking back at her and he almost looked away again. Gazing straight into her deep eyes was more of a difficult
task than he would admit—even to himself.

  A few silent seconds ensued with a comfortable type of awkwardness in the air. She finally spoke, breaking the spell. “I think . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “I think we should pay a home visit and talk to her and her parents. What do you think?”

  He tore his eyes away from her, so he could concentrate. “I think it’s a great idea.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded. Talking about someone else—someone they both cared about—helped get his mind back on track. “Yes.”

  "Great."

  He smiled. "Yes, great."

  “When do we go?”

  “How about tomorrow?” he stated. “After school.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes, tomorrow.”

  Valeria smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Tomorrow it is.”

  Chapter 13

  “Hi, Val,” Leonel said as soon as she answered her cell phone.

  “Hi,” she returned, trying to muster up some enthusiasm.

  “Where are you? I called your landline.”

  “I’m just stepping in the door.”

  “You had to take care of some school stuff?”

  “Yes,” Valeria said uneasily, hoping her voice had thawed out. “I had to take care of some things.”

  “Listen, I just got off work—early for once. I can be at your place in twenty minutes.”

  “Leonel, I’ve got a lot of papers to grade.” Biting her tongue at the half-truth, she firmly told herself she just needed some alone-time—that's all. Even couples about to get married needed time away from one another, didn't they?

  “But, Val, I really want to see you. I miss you. I haven’t seen you for three whole days.”

  He was annoying her with his recent stalker-like tendencies. He was calling her too often and wanting to see her what seemed to be every second of the day. She was starting to envision sticky, old bubble gum whenever she spoke to him.

  “Sorry, Leo, I need to get all these papers graded. I’m way behind.”

  “I’ll only take a few minutes. I just want to run something by you.”

  “A few minutes?”