Beautiful Torment

by Paige Laurens

  My dad doesn’t make a lot in his small store, but I’ve never been happier that he doesn’t work in the City, like so many of my peer’s parents do.

  Lunch that day was oddly silent, with so many people missing. I didn’t even get halfway through next period lab before another announcement came over the loudspeaker: We are all to report to one of the two gyms based on our last name. The school, the Country, is on lockdown, and we have to wait for a parent or guardian to pick us up.

  Mr. Harrington stopped his lesson as we all gathered our things to leave.

  “Luci,” I meet his unusually warm gaze, so different than the typical annoyed looks I get. I’ve never seen him look so gentle, especially at me. “Are you okay?”

  I nod, even though I'm not. None of us are.

  I'd only later come to realize why he asked only me this. Why, despite everyone else also wearing frightened and sad looks, he only noticed mine.

  I was so relieved when I ran into Gracie in the gym. Even though we haven’t been getting along lately, her hug feels comforting and familiar.

  Dad closed the store early and came home to sit with us. We all watched the news until Mom made us turn it off.

  "Enough," we're the first words we heard from her since we got home.

  This all feels like a nightmare.

  There was school the following day, even though I was so sure they would cancel. I mean, how can we go to school? How can we go about doing something so normal and ordinary after something so bad and tragic happened?

  No one cared about anyone's lack of having homework done. It was obvious no one did anything last night except watch the news. Some teachers tried to take yesterday’s events off our minds by continuing with their normal lessons, while others wanted nothing more than to talk about it.

  We all couldn’t help but notice the empty seats, where it was obvious a parent worked in the city. How many were actually in the World Trade Center? How many loved ones were lost?

  To this day, I don't understand how some teachers moved past 9/11 so quickly. At the time, I was furious at them for being so uncaring. How can one go about life after this? After so much has changed? What's the point? Does your silly lesson mean anything when bigger things are going on?

  In the following days we were told to show no fear, and not to let this change us, or affect us. We have to stay strong. It all happened too quickly in my eyes. How can we simply get past this?

  Because I can't.

  I can’t move on.

  Maybe this was the start of it - of me not being able to move on, or maybe I've always been like this - stuck on things after they happen.

  Never letting go.

  By next Monday, everything is back to normal, or new normal, as I call it. Not quite the same as it was before, but how it's clearly going to be from now on.

  Ms. Harrington is the sweetest of all. I can tell she’s sort of like me in that she has trouble moving past things. She always wants to talk and tells everyone that her door is always open. All of her students like her, and it’s easy to see why. She’s so easy-going and wonderful.

  Meanwhile, I just try to understand why all I do is sit in her class and think about her brother. Is her door open to help me comprehend that?

  In chemistry, we get our periodic table quizzes back and my face falls when I see my 98. I know I got them all correct! I study the paper with a confused look as I meet the big, red, circled -2.

  I almost rip it to shreds.

  I did get all he symbols right, but I spelled “sulfer” instead of “sulfur".

  What the hell?!

  This isn't English. Your sister teaches that! I shouldn't be tested on spelling. If he just had to point out my mistake, fine, but why deduct the two points?

  Not even a month into school and adios to my perfect grades. Maybe I shouldn't even bother from here on out, but I tell myself September is too early to give up completely.

  When the bell rings I nod to Chloe that she should go ahead without me. I’m going to voice my unhappiness to Mr. Harrington, despite not really wanting to because not only am I a little embarrassed, but because my weird attraction to him frightens the hell out of me. We’ve never really spoken one-on-one before. In fact, we’ve barely said more than a few words, even during class.

  I take a deep breath, pushing my shyness aside and hoping my voice doesn’t crack. I watch as he gets up and starts erasing his writing from the overhead projection. His track pants make a swishing sound as he moves. He’s clearly coaching after school, and I hate how happy it makes me, knowing what his after school plans are, like it matters.

  “The test was on the periodic table symbols, and I got them all correct,” I slam the paper onto his desk. He stops erasing and smiles. I bite my lip to stop from automatically gleaming too; because the way it makes him glow is so striking, I almost can’t help it. “It’s not fair,” I look away, proud of my confidence.

  “Haven't you realized? Life isn't fair.” He’s cocky, not only in his voice, but in his demeanor too. My eyes land on the muscles protruding from his shirt and travel down his arms to his white knuckles, straining against the eraser, holding on tight. I imagine his grip on me, and I swallow hard.

  “Do you not like me or something?” He suddenly has me feeling bold, saying things I would normally never say.

  “Or something,” he chuckles lightly, and I know I don’t hide my surprised look very well.

  “So you don’t?” I don’t what I am more - crushed, furious, or confused.

  “It was a joke,” he shakes his head. “Why would you think I don’t like you?”

  Maybe I’m imagining all his annoyed and intense stares during class. Outraged by my own absurd feelings, I roll my eyes.

  “Never mind,” I whisper before turning to grab my things and go.

  “You’re reading War and Peace?” His voice interrupts. Surely he’s seen it on my desk a dozen times by now. I don’t answer as he approaches his desk, picking up the paper I slammed down. He stares at it with an amused expression. “I didn’t think they read that in high school.”

  “They,” I clear my throat. “They… don’t.”

  “And yet you do?” He does that stupid eyebrow thing again that makes me melt.

  “I like Tolstoy,” it comes out as another whisper.

  He laughs. It’s a magical sound, causing me to hold my books a little closer to my chest.

  “So the quiz?” I ask, just as the late bell rings.

  “It stays,” he smiles.

  “But it was a mistake! Spelling has nothing to do with the material that was asked!”

  “We all make mistakes,” he shrugs as he hands the paper back to me.

  There's no use in arguing with someone who won't listen, so I say nothing as I leave.

  “Luci?” I stop, not having enough courage to turn back around and face him. “Do you need a pass to your next class?”

  “No.”

  I hear his loud exhale as I walk out of the room.

  Public speaking has quickly turned into one of those classes I don’t mind at all. While Hannah was the only one I knew only a few short weeks ago, I’ve quickly become friendly with almost everyone. We all have. It’s different and more low key than any other class I’ve ever experienced. We have fun, Ms. Martin included. She’s a compassionate teacher and perfect for the subject, especially for someone as shy as me.

  She doesn’t get mad when I walk in late, and I’m thankful. It’s probably because she’s too concerned by the flustered look on my face. She asks if everything’s okay and I nod before taking my seat.

  Hannah and I sit next to each other in the last of the two rows on the side, and the guy who introduced himself on the first day of school is Nick. While he’s a resident bad boy, he’s actually really nice, and is constantly making Hannah and I laugh. It’s a welcome reaction from my previous, overly intense period with Mr. Harrington.

  “You look hot today, Luci,” Nick says as we take our seats.


  “Thanks,” I smile, embarrassed.

  The class hasn’t fully settled down yet, but Nick faces forward anyway, which is unusual for him. Hannah and I start talking, stopping when his voice interrupts us. “Do you want to go to a movie this weekend?”

  I look over at him, but he’s still facing the other way. I meet Hannah’s eye and she mouths, oh my god. I don’t answer, because quite frankly, I’m not sure if he’s even talking to me or not. Maybe he meant it for someone else. God, I hope he meant it for someone else.

  I roll my eyes and continue telling Hannah how upset I am about my chemistry quiz. I don’t even know why I’m talking about it. Maybe I just want to remember the way he looked at me, or the fact that he just looked. Or maybe it’s his voice I want that I want to savor, his stupid, pompous voice.

  “Luci?” Nick turns around when I don’t answer. Shit, he was talking to me. And I have no desire to go to the movies with him. “Did you hear what I asked?”

  “Um, yeah, sorry, wasn’t sure if you were talking to me or not. You sort of were facing the other way,” I laugh, feeling uncomfortable.

  He doesn’t say anything, waiting for my answer.

  “The thing is,” I try to find the right words. “I have this… thing this weekend.”

  I don’t look at Hannah because I know she’ll be disappointed in me. Hell, I’m disappointed in myself. Sure, he gets terrible grades and is always being written up for something, but whatever, he’s a nice enough guy. And what am I doing this weekend, aside from go to bed early to fantasize about my chemistry teacher?

  Yes, I’ll admit it. I look forward to that.

  My dreams are getting steamier and my orgasms are getting more intense. So what?

  I meet Nick’s waiting glare, feeling bad. His sweet face has fallen. “Um, maybe some other time though?” I offer.

  “Yeah, definitely,” he smiles.

  Phew, weird crises semi-averted.

  After school, I drop Gracie and her friend off at home and drive straight to Dad’s store. I can’t just sit in my room and think about him, but my distraction is to no avail. I still find myself talking about the quiz.

  “It’s a 98 honey, that’s great,” Mom assures me.

  “That’s not the point. I nailed all the elements. It should have been an 100.”

  “You’re stressing yourself out for no reason,” Dad yells from the back.

  I start helping Mom clear off the counter, looking for something to do.

  “Easy there,” Mom laughs at my frustration. I don’t realize I’m throwing the nails into their buckets too hard. I’m completely missing, causing them to splatter out everywhere.

  “Sorry,” I mumble. “He was just so conceited when I approached him about it too. Like, what the hell got up his ass?”

  “Should I put a call into the school?” Mom asks nicely, but her look tells me she doesn’t like my wording. “Or if it can wait, open house is not too far away. I can always bring it up then.”

  “No,” I sigh. “Forget it. I’m just mad, that’s all.”

  “Luci, you should go home and get started on your homework,” Dad yells, his head popping out from the doorway. “I also placed some college brochures on your desk.”

  I sigh loudly. They never want me to work at the store, or hang out here for too long. It’s always about school and the future.

  I linger a little longer, seeking any distraction I can get until they all but kick me out.

  I pass the school on my way home, driving into the back parking lot, just to see if track practice is outside today. It is, and I watch from a distance as he runs on the track with a graceful speed.

  IF YOU WANT TO GET TECHNICAL

  During the next couple of weeks I make sure to copy down every single thing Mr. Harrington writes on the overhead projection, focusing only on the words on my paper.

  I will myself not to think about how his hair looks today, or what he’s wearing, or his smooth voice, or his mouth as he talks. I don’t imagine his lips moving slowly over mine, or picture his strong jaw and soft tongue. Nor do I fantasize about tracing his cheekbones with my fingers while gazing into his sparkling eyes.

  Ugh.

  I try to focus on anything and everything that will take my mind off him, even down to whom my friends are crushing on, and other little insignificant things. I attempt to get into all of my classes - to treat them all the same, equally. Especially since, aside from chemistry, math is going to be the death of me. Although, for an entirely different reason.

  I feel like the biggest idiot ever, because I understand nothing. Mrs. Stalling’s teaching style is terrible, and you know something’s wrong when I’m semi-understanding science over math, when I usually equally suck at both.

  Ah, science.

  I’m actually mildly successful at ignoring Mr. Harrington, until one day he goes ahead and throws off my small progress. Instead of sitting at his desk like he normally is when we come into class, he’s standing at the door.

  “Hello ladies,” he smiles at Chloe and I as we make our way into lab. He’s just as excited to see you, the thought pops into my head before I can stop it, and I internally yell at myself for feeding this unhealthy, very wrong obsession of mine.

  “Hey, Mr. H,” Chloe nods while I just smile.

  We still haven’t gone to the back of the room - to the actual lab - so once again we’re at our desks. Since lab is only half the class, we’ve been allowed to pick our own seats, so Chloe and I sit next to each other in the very last row.

  We’re handed a worksheet in which we have to find the answers in a textbook. We’re still learning all about the tools and things we’ll find in the lab, and are promised by the end of this month we’ll get to go back there.

  The room is full of low whispers as Mr. Harrington makes his way around in case any of us have any questions.

  “Can I go to the bathroom?” Chloe asks when he comes our way.

  “Sure,” he points to the corner of the desk where his hall pass is.

  I let out a laugh. I can’t help it, it just comes out.

  “What?” he asks, fighting a grin as he sits in her seat. We haven’t really spoken since the day I stayed late after class, which didn’t exactly go well.

  “It’s just, for a grammar stickler such as yourself, I would have thought you would have corrected her,” I put my pen down, still stuck on the fact that he took points off of my quiz for spelling. He smiles, raising an eyebrow in question as I continue. “Since, as I’m sure you know, the correct way for her to ask would have been, “May I go to the bathroom.” I’m fighting a smile now too, biting my cheek.

  He chuckles, his eyes lighting up from my obvious entertainment. I couldn’t imagine his look if I tried. My heart starts racing as my blood boils with excitement. I realize it’s October, but will someone turn on the air conditioner, because holy hell is it hot in here?

  “Can I is the ability to do something, and May I is asking permission,” he says, licking his lips while shaking his head. He leans in close and electricity shoots into the room. My breath hitches from his proximity, filling my nose with a spicy scent that suits him. I gaze into his eyes before moving up to his long eyelashes that any girl would be jealous of. “You have to get over the two points,” he whispers, and I nonchalantly graze my own tongue against my lips, licking them, because he’s just so delicious. I suddenly can’t help but wonder what he looks like naked. How defined and hard his muscles are, how thick is happy trail is, how thick he is.

  Shit.

  Someone calls his name and I all but jump. Mr. Harrington clears his throat as he gets up. “Thanks for the lesson, Ms. Cunningham.”

  I catch another whiff of the spicy cologne in his wake, and absent-mindedly lean in closer to Chloe’s chair, inhaling more of his luscious scent.

  “Need some answers?” Chloe asks, returning to her seat.

  “Ugh, yeah,” I blush, embarrassed to have been caught doing something so stupid. Wh
at am I supposed to say? Nope, just trying to smell our teacher?

  The next day, we’re not even fifteen minutes into second period when the fire alarm goes off. We’ve been inside for P.E., because it’s been so unusually cold, even for October. Unfortunately for me, because we’ve been in the gym, I’ve been wearing a T-shirt and shorts.

  With no time to change, we’re ushered outside, my sneakers crunching against the leaves that have already started to fall to the ground, as the air jarringly hits my bare legs and arms.

  I’m freezing my ass off.

  We soon learn that this is not a drill, which means it’s going to take forever. It’s not a real emergency either, but just some idiot who pulled the alarm. Still, we have to wait for the firemen to arrive, and for them to search the entire school.

  Did I mention I’m freezing my ass off?

  Everyone starts talking as we wait, thrilled to be missing class. I begin to walk in circles, focusing on alternating the pressure from one foot to the other, desperately trying to warm up.

  “And you’re wearing that because?” I stop mid-hop, my chemistry teacher standing directly in front of me, looking hotter than ever as his eyes travel up and down my body. His question catches me off guard, because how can he not see the others around us, also wearing their gym clothes, most in short sleeves and or shorts too.

  “Gym,” I force a tight smile, praying my teeth don’t start chattering.

  “Right,” he nods, finally noticing everyone else in the vicinity. “And I suppose it would be a little weird if I offer only you my jacket?”

  “Probably,” I smile, looking down. The bumps on my pale legs reminding me just how cold I really am.

  “I’m gonna do it anyway,” he shrugs off his blazer.

  “Oh, n-,” I start to protest, but he shoots me a look and I shut up. “But what about everyone else?”