Not Yet

by Laura Ward

  “Well, you’re welcome!” Principal Mahoney laughed as I exhaled deeply, allowing my pent up nerves to release from my body. I shook hands with both of my new bosses, picked up a stack of employment and benefits information, and headed out in a daze. I gave Linda a thumbs up as I walked out and she yelled her congratulations. Wow… Now I really was a teacher… What the hell was I going to do?

  I was leaving the pool in a lurch, but I needed to attend trainings, set up my classroom, and plan lessons for next week. Thankfully, I hadn’t taken any days off the whole summer, so hopefully the club manager would be understanding.

  As I drove, my nerves lessened and the excitement grew. I could do this. I could teach high school students. I went to a great school and did really well. I was smart enough to handle this, and if I got in a bind, I was smart enough to fake it. Anyway, I had a job. I couldn’t wait to tell my mom and Landon. As I parked at the pool, I called mom and left her a message. Landon was away without his cell phone for the week, so there was no point in texting him yet. Then, I hurried into the club office.

  Management was great. They agreed to take over my responsibilities during the week until the pool closed and offered me the same job if I still wanted it next summer. I told them I could still work weekends until Labor Day and that I’d love the job next summer. This ended up being the best summer of my life. I ran down the steps to the pool and automatically looked for Landon. But he was gone. Like I always knew he would be. He was back to school, and I was here alone, without his enthusiasm and support to celebrate my good news.

  Sarah, one of our youngest guards, came in and grabbed her lunch as I packed my stuff in the office. She had been on duty this morning when I had to leave suddenly and was anxious to hear what happened.

  “Did you get the job, Emma?” She waited for my response until I smiled and nodded. “Awesome!” Sarah gave me a high five and watched me as she ate.

  “Thanks, Sarah! I don’t even know what grade I’m teaching yet. I find out everything at training tomorrow.” I grabbed the last of my belongings from behind the desk and from my cubby. “The only thing I’m worried about is… it’s not a middle school position.” I remembered Landon’s reaction to the concept of someone as young as me teaching high school. I understood his concern. I shared it. But there were no other teaching jobs coming my way. I had to take it.

  “Ooooo! Are you teaching at Avon High, Emma? It would be so cool to have you as my teacher!” Sarah rubbed her hands together and her excitement was catching. I would have loved to teach Sarah at Avon High. It was a highly rated, very academic school in our area. I had attended Tech High, a much more urban school due to its proximity to Indianapolis. It was harder around the edges and the students were less academic and more ‘street smart,’ as they say. Zionsville, on the other hand, was the opposite. It was a rural school, surrounded by farms and corn fields. It also had the biggest and best football team in the state. Everyone knew about Zionsville Academy—home of the Lion’s football team. It was Landon’s alma mater and he had spoken of the school fondly to me.

  “No, Sarah, but thank you for being so sweet—even if you just wanted an easy A. Actually, its Zionsville Academy. It’s close enough to home, no traffic in that direction.” I was nervously rambling. I took a deep, steadying breath. “I need to stop worrying. It’ll be fine.” Sarah nodded reassuringly as I zipped up my bag.

  “Zionsville’s a great school, Emma. You’re sporty and they are all about athletics there. Maybe you can even coach something?” Her words relaxed me a bit. I would make this work.

  I checked in one last time with the guards and assured them I’d be back on Saturday. Driving away from the pool, my stomach knotted with nerves. It hadn’t hit me until now just how much I was going to miss Landon now that he was back at school. Not just his kiss and touch, but his companionship. I’d never let a guy in before and he had become my friend. And much, much more. But now we both had to move on. I was the girlfriend back home who had to go to bed early and wake up at the crack of dawn for her adult job. There would be plenty of fun, cute girls with no schedule or responsibilities that would be all around him.

  Thoughts about Landon consumed me. We had never said I love you. We had made no formal commitment to each other. We were just having a good time. Right? I wiped my eyes, picturing his sweet smile and sexy embraces. I would miss my summer love.

  I knew that lesson all too well.

  ***

  JULIE WAS VERY apologetic. There was no way around it. I had to follow the previous teacher’s schedule. I would be teaching freshmen US History and seniors’ Economics. Seniors. As in, kids that could be only three years younger than me. That scared the bejesus out of me. I was essentially fresh meat being thrown to these lions.

  There was so much to do. Mountains of paperwork, books to catalog, lessons to plan, and I was drowning in the work. I ended up staying late each night, and Mom would drop off dinner for Evie and me before she left for work.

  Evie helped me with some light organizing, and my mom got a chance to meet Principal Mahoney and Julie. My favorite colleague was the young history teacher across the hall. Samantha Stone was a petite red head with freckles and a loud voice. She was newly pregnant and married to the football coach. She stopped in whenever she could with tips, pep talks, and jokes. There was pure positive energy around her, and I knew I had found a friend and an ally.

  The night before the first day of school, I was sick with worry. Freaking out about my first day of teaching and also missing Landon so much I ached. I didn’t want things to end with him—I thought I was falling in love with him. But I was scared out of my mind. What if I were to ask for a committed relationship while he was away and he said no? It would completely break my heart. I didn’t know what to do or how to proceed, and it was driving me crazy. God, I needed to meditate or take a Valium or some shit.

  I decided to text him. He wouldn’t be able to respond until he was back in Indiana tomorrow, but I needed him to know my big news. I wanted it to be the first thing he saw when he turned on his phone. Plus, I needed the calming reassurance of seeing his name on my screen and his contact picture smiling at me.

  Hey you. Miss you tons. I got a job!!!!  Call when you can.

  Feeling somewhat more settled now that I knew he would know my news as soon as he could, I decided to focus on the pressing issue of what I would wear for my first day of real employment.

  I tried on different outfits. First up was the suit that Mom had bought me for interviews. It was a conservative navy blue blazer with a matching skirt. I wore it with a slim button down white shirt. Slipping on high heels, I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. Christ almighty. I looked like a ten-year-old playing dress up in her mom’s clothes. The suit was too big, and I would be a joke wearing this in the hallways of the high school tomorrow. Teachers didn’t wear suits to school. Not unless they were trying to look important when they really weren’t.

  I took off the blazer and stood in the white shirt and blue skirt. Maybe if I added a scarf? I tied a blue and white chevron silk scarf around my neck and looked again. Lord help me. Why didn’t I just grab a floatation device and explain to the aircraft passengers where the closest exits were located in case of an emergency landing?

  Sinking onto the bed, I rested my face in my hands. I couldn’t pretend to be older by dressing formally. I needed to be confident in myself in the classroom tomorrow. I ended up choosing slim fitting black pants that hit above my ankle. I would wear sandals with heels to add height and hopefully some semblance of authority to my presence. I choose a flowing silk tank that hid my boobs and hoped for the best.

  My old jalopy of a car rambled into the faculty parking lot the next morning. I grabbed my leather messenger bag and travel mug of coffee and walked in the main doors of Zionsville Academy. My stomach rolled with nerves. I was going to puke. Checking in at the main office, I noted my presence was completely ignored. What was I expecting, fanfare? This was
the first day of school, and the place was swamped with kids with scheduling questions and general gripes about anything they could think of to get some attention, or, better yet, to lessen their work load. I was no one important—even my mailbox was empty—but, hey, at least I had a mailbox with my name on it. Partially deflated and partially exhilarated, I headed to my classroom.

  As I walked past the excited groups of students, I still couldn’t quite grasp I was their teacher. It seemed like yesterday that I met my friends on the first day and watched the new, young teachers enter their classrooms, wondering whether they could handle the pressure. Now, they were watching me, probably wondering the same thing.

  That made two of us.

  I turned on the lights to my classroom and looked around. My desk was set up in the corner with lesson plans and handouts organized. Bulletin boards with inspirational and historical quotes hung on the walls, and desks were shaped into perfect, neat rows. I was ready. My phone pinged with a text and I grinned. Landon.

  Congrats, short stuff! Can’t wait to hear all about it. I’ll be at your place at 5:00. I need to talk to you about something.

  Frowning at the last sentence, my stomach dropped. I had a bad feeling that I couldn’t shake. Maybe this was it? What I had worried about all along. Maybe he talked to his buddies this past week and they convinced him to cut ties with the old ball and chain before school began. I would be understanding. It would kill me, but I would let him go if that’s what he wanted. The first bell rang, and I hid my phone in my desk.

  Sam came to give me a thumbs up before my first class, and I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants. My day started with honors US history and I was excited to begin. My class of freshmen seemed just as nervous as I was. They were sweet, smart kids, and I loved my time with them.

  The bell rang at the end of the period, and adrenaline rushed through me. I did it. Maybe I could really make it through the day. Second period was a planning period. I headed to the faculty lounge down the hall for some more coffee. I walked in, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room.

  It was appalling. I didn’t know what I expected, but Jesus, Mary and Joseph, this was bad. The cinder block room was painted a dark orange and was lit by dingy brass lamps that I was pretty sure belonged to my great-grandmother. The furniture was straight out of the 1970’s, with rough orange sofas and plastic chairs that were too old-fashioned for even our classrooms. I guess I hoped I would find an oasis from stress, but the only good things I saw were a working copier and a semi-fresh pot of coffee. With powdered creamer and imitation sweetener. This was unacceptable.

  Even worse than the paltry accommodations was the dinosaur that lurked within. I was immediately greeted with a gruff, “What are you doing here?”

  An older man with a full white beard was standing at the copier, watching me with a scowl.

  “Um, I was just getting some coffee,” I said meagerly. I might’ve been a college graduate and a teacher, but this man was still able to scare the crap out of me. I wasn’t sure what his problem was with me. But perhaps he was also angered by these surroundings and what smelled to be clearly burnt coffee?

  “This is a faculty lounge! Students are not allowed in here!” The man, who I now remembered was an ancient, ancient math teacher, put his hands on his hips with irritation.

  “Sir, I’m Emma Harris. I’m the new history teacher,” I said politely but with some indignation. Shaking hands with Ted Francetti, he sheepishly apologized.

  On the walk back to my classroom, I recognized that this would not be the first time I was mistaken for a student here. It would probably be a good idea to keep my faculty badge on at all times.

  Third period was my first senior economics class. My nerves soared again. My back was to the class as the seniors noisily filed in and took their seats. I hadn’t made a seating chart yet. Student teaching taught me that it was best to wait and see who the trouble makers were and then separate them. The bell rang and I turned around to introduce myself to the class.

  A few whistles and cheers came from the back, and I scanned the room to see who was making the noise. A group of guys were sitting in the back row. The noisy one, a tall blond who looked like a surfer, waved to me. My brow furrowed as I took in the boys next to him. There was a shorter, stocky Latino guy, a thin lanky guy with a crew cut, and… no. NO. No no no no no. Landon Washington. Sonofamotherfuckingbitch!

  My hand covered my mouth as his eyes widened. I had to give him credit. He kept it together. It looked like he didn’t move a muscle when he saw me. He stayed completely still and calm. I saw his only tell, the muscle in his jaw clenching, and I knew he was holding back. I continued staring, conscious now of the other student’s whispers, and forced myself to clamp my gaping mouth shut. Finally, he gave me an embarrassed shrug. I turned around, vomit rising in my throat. Shit. Fuck. Shitfuckfuck.

  My heart was racing. Was I having a panic attack or a heart attack? Was this really happening? Was the guy I had licked this summer sitting in my classroom? Was my life always destined to be this fucked up? The sweat began pouring off of me, and I thought I saw stars. Dear Lord above, do NOT let me pass out right now. I would never live that one down.

  No. No, I couldn’t let this happen. My family needed this job. I had to suck it up. I gathered my stack of syllabi and took a deep breath before turning around.

  “What’s wrong, baby? Are we scaring you?” The blond surfer type yelled from the back with a grin.

  “Shut it, Dean.” Landon snapped, while remaining in his relaxed position.

  “Good morning, class.” My voice was shaky, but I grew up with a sibling with special needs who had a distinct appearance. This wasn’t the first time in my life I had been stared at, heckled, and studied for a reaction. I could get through it. I introduced myself and gave an overview of the class.

  I used the whiteboard to display my Power Point notes and focused on getting through my planned lesson with no emotion and without ever looking back at Landon mother-fucking-lying-bitch-no-balls Washington. Bitter? I obviously never heard of the word.

  Dean and his gang whispered loudly and laughed in the back. Dean? Oh my God, I’d heard that name before. Landon’s best friend. The one that was like his brother. Lord only knew what Dean had heard about me all summer. I had to shut this down immediately.

  “Can I help you all with something?” I used my strongest tone, still knowing that I sounded like a kid to them.

  “Oh, you can help me with anything you want, Ms. Harris.” Dean smiled and leaned forward in his chair. I looked at my roster, which had only last names and first initials.

  “Mr……”

  “—Goldsmith. Dean Goldsmith. Don’t forget it. You’ll be screaming that name out before you know it.” His clever harassment caused the class to erupt in laughter and cheers.

  I walked over to his desk with my arms crossed. “You will respect me in this classroom, Mr. Goldsmith. If you do not, I will follow through with the discipline plan in my syllabus.”

  Dean smiled and leaned back in his chair. “I love to be disciplined, Ms. Harris. I don’t mind being hit with a ruler, spanked… you name it.” He was testing me, seeing how far he could push me on my first day. Wanting me to break or cry. I would never give the little prick the pleasure.

  I put both hands on his desk and leaned into his face. The entire room had turned around to watch me in the back row. Looking him dead in the eye, I narrowed my gaze. “Try me, Dean. Try me, and you’ll be sitting in this same desk next year with all the juniors wondering why big man Dean couldn’t get a passing grade from the new teacher.” I held his gaze as he smiled saucily, and his classmates hollered their approval of my retort. I only leaned back from our standoff when the blessed bell rang.

  As the students left the room, I walked back to my desk, shaking, and I felt that familiar touch on my shoulder. “Em, look at me.”

  I whipped around, knocking his hand off my shoulder. “Get your hands off me,” I
whispered angrily. “And don’t you call me Emma. It’s Ms. Harris to you—and don’t you ever touch a teacher again.” I glared at him and fought off the urge to slap his lying face.

  “I’m so sorry. I had no idea this was your job. This was what I needed to talk to you about tonight.” He crouched in front of me, trying to make eye contact as I backed up, focused on the floor.

  “I can’t believe this,” I spoke quietly, through clenched teeth, doing anything I could to keep my anger in check. “My first job. My first job is to teach your underage ass. Unbelievable. God, you know I could be fired, lose my certification. Oh My God! This could ruin my family!”

  “I need to explain, I…” My next freshmen class poured into the room, chatting and laughing.

  “I need nothing from you. Get out. Now.” I glared at him and he turned and stormed out as I took deep breaths and focused on my next class of students.

  I knew what I had to do. A lying scumbag was threatening to turn my world upside down. I had to immediately revert back to the person I knew best. Defenses and walls had to go up for immediate self-protection. The Ice Queen, bitch, angry shrew, was back with a roar. Welcome, my old friend. Can’t say I’m glad to see you, but I sure do need you right now.

  What was that I was saying about boys changing and hearts changing?

  And hearts need to be strong enough to overcome it.

  ***

  I ENTERED THE faculty lounge quietly and stared at my lunch. I contemplated using the brown paper bag that my food was packed in as a breathing device to keep me from hyperventilating. It was a miracle I made it through that last class. I couldn’t believe he lied to me. I thought I was falling in love with him. This, this is why I never trusted men before… they always let you down.