When neither of them said anything else, I hissed, “And the others?”
Tamsin blushed and looked over at the wall. “Tabby can tell you those.”
Shooting her a glare that bounced off the back of her head, Tabby mumbled, “They think he’s got man issues.”
“Man issues? Like the happy little chappy blue pill type of requirements?”
“No, as in the opposite of that.”
What was the opposite of…. Ohhhh!
Dropping my half-eaten sandwich back onto the plastic wrap, I whispered as quietly as possible, “Is that something he should see a doctor about? I mean, if he can’t get it to go down, maybe he needs—”
“Sex,” Tamsin huffed, not meaning to say it as loudly as she did and turning bright red when people turned to look at us again. “Uh, that is that sex education should always be taught with an understanding of its impact on students and how they perceive sex in general.”
When people went back to their conversations, she smiled weakly at both of us.
“What the hell was that?”
Glaring at me, she snapped, “I panicked, okay? Everyone was looking at me like I was a deviant. But you need to understand what Logan needs is probably sex. Are y’all in the same bed still?”
When I nodded my head, Tabby grinned at me. “Well, guess you’re going to have to break out some moves for him to help cure him of his ailment.”
Blinking at her, I looked at Tamsin to talk some sense for her, but she just shrugged. “Sorry, I agree. You can’t tell me you guys aren’t in the same sex zone—I’ve felt the tension.”
Were we?
Before I could say anything else, the bell rang, making me jump.
“Well, I say you’ve got some food for thought, honey,” Tabby said as she stood up. “And if you need any help, just shout.”
Mutely, I picked up the remnants of my lunch and walked over to the trash can to dump it, my head spinning the whole time.
Sex.
Logan.
Sex.
Logan’s penis.
Sex.
My vagina and his penis.
Joining me, Tamsin got rid of her garbage. “Have you got what you need to help out my classes this afternoon?”
Shaking it off, I pulled the book I was bringing with me out of my purse, holding it up for her to see.
“I do. And if this isn’t a good example of what you’re talking about, I don’t know what is. All of the parents returned the acceptance forms, I guess what happened recently has shaken a lot of them up.”
I’d agreed to help her out with a class that dealt with psychology and helping students understand it. Her current project was understanding the impact of words on people and educating students on how deep the ‘reality’ of the internet went. Principal Teller had even agreed to let me speak to them while my regular class finished up a project I’d set.
“I’ve never read that,” she told me as we walked to her classroom. “The title’s kind of… brutal.”
“It’s a perfect example of how words were used years ago and comparing them against their severity now. But it’s a great book if you can get past the title.”
As soon as her students were seated, Tamsin settled them down and then pointed at me.
“I’m sure some of you already know her, but for those of you who don’t, this is Miss Heath, our new English teacher. I was speaking to her about how we’ve been discussing the impact of words on people, and she knew just the right example, so she’s going to be talking to you today. Your parents have been notified and gave their consent, so don’t panic.”
Smiling stiffly at her, thanks to the nerves that were swirling around in my stomach, I waved lamely.
“Um, hi? I recognize some of you already, but my name’s Bexley. I mean Heath. No, it’s Bexley Heath, but you can call me...” I groaned internally at how much of a loser I looked, “Miss Heath.”
Flashing what I hoped was a smile that screamed at them to take pity on me, I took a deep breath in. “I know Miss Waite’s been talking to you about how the meaning of some words change, or we start to use them differently, and the impact saying things can have on people, even if you don’t mean it badly. The example she gave me was a phrase I gather y’all are familiar with: go kill yourself.”
One of the girls threw her arms up in the air. “I hate it. People keep saying it, and I’m like, do they even realize how bad it still is to say that? No way does it mean to shut the f—” she stopped and looked between Tamsin and me. “I mean to shut— Uh, STFU.”
Nice!
“Let’s keep it PG, Kenya,” Tamsin suggested.
“I did. But people are still saying it means that, and, like, no way.”
One of the boys sneered at the girl. “Maybe you shouldn’t be such a kiss ass?”
“Ben,” Tamsin snapped. “One more of those, and I’ll send you to the principal’s office.”
I braced for an argument, but he blushed and looked down at his desk instead. “Sorry, Miss Waite. I understand what you’re saying and how good an example that is, but she’s always digging away at me and my friends.”
Not wanting to dwell on it and run the risk of making things worse, I continued with my plan.
Holding the book up, I tapped the front of it. “Who here has heard of an author called Alexander Pope?”
All of them looked back at me blankly.
“Alrighty then. Pope was an English poet who died in 1744, but he wrote a satirical piece that’ll always be one of my favorite books in the world called The Rape Of The Lock.” The title had the intended reaction as all of the students' eyes widened. “Exactly. The word rape is brutal and ugly, and back then, it was probably the same, but he managed to create something from it that highlighted how affectatious and vain society was.”
One of the boys held his hand up. “What does affectatious mean?”
“Pretentious, fake, and like it’s being done for show,” I replied, tapping the book again. “See, in it, the man cuts a lock of hair off the girl—”
“I’d kill him,” one of the students snapped, holding her ponytail in her fist. “My brother cut my hair once with those scissors that don’t even cut through paper. I glued him to the toilet seat.”
Everyone burst out laughing, including Tamsin and me.
“Understandable. I’m an only child, but my best friend’s male, and if he’d cut my hair when we were younger, I’d have done the same.”
Don’t think about Logan. Too late, there goes the blush.
Clearing my throat, I continued, “Anyway, the woman reacts by being overly dramatic, and society does the same thing. It’s like everything comes to a stop, and it’s the worst thing that could ever happen.”
This time they all looked at each other dubiously.
“For real, back then, it was all about how you looked, and any action against that was the kind of thing that would win trophies and long speeches at award ceremonies nowadays. That’s what Pope was aiming for when he wrote it—to highlight how vapid and pretentious society was. They all wore wigs to prove their stature, even the men spent hours powdering and putting red blush on their faces, and without that, you were nothing.”
One of the boys sitting at the back raised his hand. “That sucks. Who cares if you look great? I haven’t showered for three days, and I’m okay.” He sniffed under his arm and lowered it quickly.
“Exactly. Not only did Pope strike a blow with the content of the piece, but he struck a blow with the title of it, too. Rape—it’s one of the ugliest words, isn’t it?” All of them nodded. “Back then, it was ugly too, but they didn’t have social media or the type of mentality we have today.”
“Because they were too focused on their appearances?” One of the boys shouted.
Clapping my hands together, I pointed at him. “And there you have it. We’re conscious of how we look now, but it doesn’t define our society. Well,” I added with a smile, “not as much as it did back then.�
�
This made most of them laugh, and the others who didn’t still smiled.
“He was bringing attention to what was important by using it while making fun of how affectatious society was at the same time. What do you think would happen if an author wrote a book with a title like that today?”
A pretty girl at the front shyly raised her hand. “No one would buy it. We don’t like that word.”
“You’re probably right. Not many people I’ve spoken to have read or heard of this book, and when they hear the title, they look appalled by it. That’s because the weight and knowledge of what the word means are well known.
“Would you ever throw a sentence with it in it at someone? I mean, I can’t even bring myself to give you an example, but think back to the ‘go kill yourself’ one that we’re trying to get you to stress to people you meet online is unacceptable, and think along those lines.”
“Do people still buy that book?” another girl asked.
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “But for the content alone, they should. It’s an amazing piece of literature, and it shows how values, ideals, and society have changed in comparison to back then.”
Glancing behind me at Tamsin, I raised my eyebrows to see how I was doing, getting a nod and smile in return.
Focusing back on the students, I added, “Just so you know, the principal spoke to parents about us bringing in an old piece of literature with this title for you, and the emails we received back encouraged it. Words carry weight. You don’t know what someone’s been through or is going through, and you don’t know how your words will impact them, even if you don’t mean for them to.
“Think things through before you say them, weigh your words properly, and consider other people’s feelings. I’m not saying that Pope got everyone to understand how bad rape was and how vapid society was back then, but I’ll bet you he opened a lot of eyes when he published this.”
I held the book up again for them to see.
“Do you think we could read it?” A kid wearing a football shirt asked, nodding at the book. “Like, can we download it?”
“More than likely. I know the paperback is still available to buy at least.”
“Cool.”
After discussing it more with them, hearing examples of things kids were saying, and the other stuff they were dealing with online, we moved on to my least favorite part of any discussion. It didn’t matter whether it was me doing the talking or someone else, the words ‘do you have any questions’ just made me want to shrivel up.
Of course they had questions.
“Are you going to teach us about the book?”
“Can we study the book?”
“What other books have weird names?”
“Was Pope a pope?”
“How much of her hair did he cut off?”
“Couldn’t she, like, just get hair extensions? That’s what my mom does.”
And then came one that re-opened up the thoughts I was trying to ignore.
“I saw you with Logan Richards. Are you dating a deputy?”
Looking at Tamsin for help, I glared when she just smiled at me and asked, “Well, are you?”
“No, I’m not. He’s been my best friend since I was little, so that’s why.”
The girl who’d asked the question raised her hand again. “But he’s hot. Y’all look cute together.”
Before I could even think of anything at all to say to that, another one of the kids yelled, “Why’s he staying at your house? My dad said you’re hot, and he’d totally—” he stopped and cleared his throat.
This time Tamsin did help me out. “Why don’t you tell us about your name? It’s unusual.”
It was obvious that the kids wanted me to answer the previous question, but I held onto hers like I was Tom Hanks with a volleyball.
“Bexley Heath is a place in London where my family was originally from generations ago. When I was born, my parents thought it would be cute to name me after it, so here I am.”
I looked down at my watch at the same time the bell rang, and finally relaxed.
At least, that’s what I thought I could do, but none of the students moved. They just sat there staring at me.
“Uh, don’t y’all want to go? I always ran out the door when the bell rang.”
Then one of the boys in a football jersey with the school team’s logo on it stood up. Holy shit, he was tall.
“We just wanted to say thank you to you and Miss Waite. We get what you’ve been talking about, Miss Waite, and you’re right. You know what happened to those two students who joined that group—”
Two students had recently attempted suicide after joining a fucked up group on the web. Thankfully, they hadn’t succeeded, but schools were being instructed to educate students about the issues with groups like it and what they said to each other because of an increase in the number of cases. “
“And we just want you to know that we’re listening and applying what you’re saying.”
Part of me wondered if he was just saying it to get her to change the subject, but part of me wanted to believe that they really got what she was working on with them.
Then, he looked at me, and I noticed how red his ears were. “If, um, if you can, would you be able to go over that book with us during one of our classes? I figure learning about society when they were like that would be good for us.”
“I’ll talk it over with the principal and see what he says, but it might not be a bad thing. Well, aside from the title.” When I smiled at him afterward, his ears went darker, and his cheeks joined them.
Before I could ask if he was okay, they all started toward the door, waving at us over their shoulders. Once the last student was gone, Tamsin burst out laughing.
“Well, at least you’re guaranteed one student who’ll pay attention.”
Frowning at her, I closed the door until the next round of students arrived. “What do you mean?”
“Fraser Brown’s got a crush on you.”
“Gross!” No teacher wanted that, ever.
“I know. The good news is that he’ll be over it in a week and going out with a cute girl. I know she’ll be cute and not a vixen because he’s got that sort of gentle personality that’d probably balk at one of the more savage girls in the school. Until then, he’ll listen in class.”
I could totally see him with a pretty, quiet girl like she described.
Moving to sit on top of her desk, I swung my legs back and forth. “Is that what happened with you and Garrett?”
The laughter stopped almost immediately, and when she looked at me, her eyes were wide.
“Girl, no. Shit happened—literally. Baby shit, dog shit, lots of both. It was awful, and I swear I was starting to think that’s all life had waiting for us, but then we grew closer over it all, and the rest is history. Well, recent history, but in a few years, we can say it’s history.”
I hadn’t heard about the finer details of their relationship, so this response was a shock. “Shit?”
Nodding her head, she said slowly, “Yeah, shit.”
“As in shit shit?”
Tilting her head to the side, she repeated, “Dog and baby.”
I didn’t even know how that would bring a couple closer together, so I asked her.
“Well,” she started and then stopped. “Actually, I don’t know how, but we became a team to clean it up, and somehow that just,”—she waved her hand around in a circle—“brought us together.”
I guess stranger things had happened.
“You know what they say: the couple that shits together sticks together.”
She walked over to the door to open it back up as she looked over her shoulder at me.
“Yeah, no, they don’t. And if a couple does shit together, they probably have accounts with Victoria’s Secret and lingerie companies all over the world, ‘cause that’s some nastiness.”
Tamsin wasn’t wrong there. With Logan staying, I had to be careful what I w
as eating in case I needed the bathroom to poop. I couldn’t relax about it. At this stage, I existed on nothing but the blandest stuff I could think up because I was so paranoid.
I couldn’t go in the morning in case he needed to use the bathroom after me. I couldn’t go when I got home just in case he came home early. I had shitranoia. Yes, I could use another bathroom, but he never stuck to one, he tried them all.
Wait, where was he pooping? Did he do it at work?
It’s fair to say that I was distracted during the next class and the one after it while discussing the book. I know the kids took it on because they were active during discussions and came up with some great questions and points, but I couldn’t have given you a rundown of them afterward if I tried.
My first issue was that Logan was in a bad mood at work because he was horny. But he was sleeping in the same bed as me, so did I make him horny?
Did I want to make him horny? I knew the answer to that question, but it was one thing knowing how I felt and another thing knowing his penis was involved.
Then I was wondering about him pooping, which was weird and gross.
Somehow I managed to make it home in one piece, the questions going round in circles in my head.
To distract myself from it all, I picked up the design magazines I’d bought when I went to the store on Saturday for inspiration and started flicking through them.
I hit gold for distraction and my living room on the eighth page.
“What are you doing?” Logan’s deep voice asked behind me, making me wobble on the stepladder.
I’d seen a photo of a room with white walls and a cool blue, six inch border around them. A small strip of carved wood had separated the two. It suited the house and my style so perfectly, I’d gotten straight back into the car and headed to the hardware store before I could talk myself out of it.
That’s probably a strange thing to say, but I didn’t know what my style was, if I was honest. I kept humming and hawing over things I saw but hadn’t decided on any of them.
Seeing one that finally screamed yes at me was a sign, and the sooner I did it, the better I’d feel.
At least, that was today’s excuse.
Eat Crow (Cheap Thrills Series Book 6) Page 11