by Kelly, A. S.
On what?
The seconds tick by, agonisingly slow.
Do you want me to come?
Oh, Headmistress. This game is so much more fun when it gets hard – and I’m not just talking about my magic wand.
That depends, too.
On what?
On what you’ll be wearing.
A few more long, painful seconds.
You’ll have to wait until Thursday to find out.
* * *
“How did it go today?” I ask my daughter as soon as she opens the car door.
“Same as always. He spent an hour talking about things I’ll never understand then gave me some homework.”
“How dare he…?” I comment, amused, as I pull out of the school car park.
I stop at the crossing to let my daughter’s tutor past on his bike. He lifts his hand towards our car in greeting, and my daughter looks away huffily. I feel obliged to wave instead.
At least this time there was no middle finger.
We’re making good progress.
I pull out into the road heading home, and try to launch myself into my fatherly role.
“Maybe you should give him a chance.”
She turns towards me.
“You know, get to know him better.”
I can feel her deathly gaze piercing me.
“You could invite him home.”
“You did not just say that.”
“We could tell you our opinion of him. Me, your grandparents – maybe even Aunt Rian.”
“Why would you do that?”
“To help you understand him. Maybe you could…I don’t know, meet him halfway.”
“What makes you think I care about that?”
“I don’t know whether you care or not. I just thought it could be a good idea.”
“I don’t see why I should.”
I decide I have to be honest with my daughter – avoiding the truth with her all this time has never caused anything but trouble. It’s alienated me from my family and left me alone.
“When I was your age – to be honest, even when I was older – I never gave people a chance.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I used to keep a distance between myself and anyone I thought was different from me.”
“Different in what way?”
I’m not proud of it, but I tell her anyway. “Anyone I thought wasn’t at my level. I never realised that, usually, it was actually the other way around.”
“So you thought you were better than them?”
I sigh. “Exactly. But I was…scared that I wasn’t enough, so I hid behind stupid, immature excuses – like deciding that they weren’t cool enough to be my friend.”
She sits there in silence for a moment, before saying: “I don’t want to be friends with that nerd.”
“This is exactly what I’m talking about.”
Skylar scoffs.
“It’s time to make new friends, and spending time with people your own age is a good place to start.”
“But do I really have to start with him? We have nothing in common.”
“How do you know?”
“Have you seen him, Kerry?”
“In passing, yes.”
“Exactly. But I’ve seen him – and I have to listen to him.”
“It can’t be as bad as you think.”
She glares at me.
“Invite him over. You could have one of your study sessions there, and then…”
“No dinner,” she says, cutting me off immediately. “Fine. Next time we can study at home, but he’s not staying for dinner.”
“But how do you expect me to give you my opinion of him after such a short time?”
“It only took me ten seconds to form an opinion of him.”
“That’s because you had a preconceived idea in your head. People deserve a chance.”
“Are you still talking about that nerd? Or are you talking about yourself, now?”
“Everyone,” I say, looking pointedly at her. “Everyone deserves a chance.”
What can you tell me about this nerd?
What are you talking about?
That boy who you’ve assigned to help my daughter.
Carter?
I don’t know his name, I just know that he’s a nerd and she hates him.
He seems like a good kid to me.
I’m sure he is, but Skylar thinks differently.
Has he done something to make her uncomfortable?
It seems stupid to talk about this over text, so I decide to put an end to the bullshit and just call her.
Jordan picks up after five rings – and a heart attack on my end.
“You didn’t want to pick up,” I say immediately as soon as I hear her breathing down the other end of the line.
“No.”
She’s honest. Although I’d have preferred her to be a little less honest.
“Are we breaking one of your rules?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“A phone call isn’t going to change anything.”
I can hear her voice waver – this time, she’s not being totally honest. But I know that she needs to play these games every so often, just to keep her guard up. To stop her showing her vulnerability.
“It could do us some good.”
“Our agreement still stands. Remember the small print.”
“I wasn’t suggesting otherwise.”
“Okay,” she sighs. “Go on.”
“Tell me about this Carter kid.”
“What exactly do you want to know?”
“I want to know why my daughter hates him so much.”
I can hear her smiling at the other end of the phone. “Do you remember our year group at school?”
“More or less.”
“There were two distinct groups: the losers and the cool kids.”
“I vaguely remember, yeah.”
“You were part of the second group, while I fell firmly into the first. The two groups had nothing in common, no links or ties.”
I sigh, guiltily.
“You used to make fun of people like me, who were in my half of the year.”
“I never made fun of you, and I definitely didn’t hate you.”
“Oh, no?”
“Not at all.”
“Well, maybe things have changed. Kids are a lot harsher nowadays.”
“I can imagine.”
“And the ‘losers’, or ‘nerds’, as you call them, don’t have an easy life. No one likes someone who knows the answer all the time.”
“I do,” I say suddenly. “I like people who know the answers. And I liked them before, too.”
“Are you trying to say that you used to secretly like all the nerds?”
“Not all of them. Just one in particular.”
Silence on her end.
“But I was too stupid to tell them. I thought that someone like me could never be attractive to a nerd.”
“Who exactly were you trying to attract?”
I didn’t even need to think about my response. “You.”
“Me.”
“You were beautiful, and so smart, and…you always knew what to say. You were always so comfortable in your own skin, and you made everyone around you confident, too. And you looked so sexy in that stupid uniform.”
She sighs heavily.
“Now that we’re talking about this, I can feel something stirring between my legs.”
There’s nervous laughter from the other end of the line. Maybe I’ve finally said something right.
“Are you trying to tell me that you used to fantasise about me, Kerry?”
“Fuck, yes. I’d fantasise about you, about that skirt, those glasses…” Without realising, I move a hand over my erection. “If I think about it now…”
“What?”
“Do you know what I’m doing?”
“I don’t know, but I’
m sure you’ll tell me.”
I quickly unbutton my jeans and slip my hand underneath my boxers.
“I haven’t been this hard since…”
“Please, don’t tell me.”
“You’re right. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard.”
“I thought you called me for information.”
“Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Kerry…”
“That’s just making me harder.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“No, please. Stay there.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to spend a little more time with you without breaking your ridiculous rules.”
“You hate them, don’t you?”
“A little, but I think they’re necessary.”
“Seriously?” She doesn’t believe me.
“It’s your way of dealing with things, and I get it. I’ve accepted it now.”
She sighs again. I’ve heard so much sighing during this conversation that I’m starting to believe we’re both having the same problem.
“Besides, it makes everything more exciting.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“Do you know what my last thought is at night? You, on top of me…”
“Kerry!”
“I think about it every time I go to bed – and I’m sure you can guess what happens after that.”
“That depends…” her voice is anxious. “Is it something that goes against our agreement?”
“It’s something that would force you to write a new one.”
More silence, then heavy breathing.
“You know how much I love rules.”
She’s seducing me; and I like it.
“Are you telling me that you want to hear me say it?”
“I guess I could make an exception.”
I move my hand slowly up and down my dick and look at it. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to do this more than I do now.
“No exceptions, Headmistress. You need to hear everything,” my hand starts to move a little faster. “And you need to hear it in person.”
Niall
“What’s this?” Skylar asks my mother.
“Apple tart,” she says, innocently, placing a baking tray on the kitchen counter. She takes off her over glove and smiles at my daughter, who looks like she wants to gouge her grandma’s eyes out with a fork.
“I thought it might be nice.”
I sit on the stool. I don’t want to miss this.
“Nice for what?”
“For your date.”
I don’t even attempt to stifle my laughter.
“Date?!” Skylar cries, horrified.
“To study,” my mother says, trying to retrace her steps. “A study date.”
“I knew this was a shitty idea!”
“Why? What’s the problem?”
My mum’s a better actor than me – I’d almost fall for her shocked, angelic expression. But Skylar doesn’t.
“Are you taking the piss?”
Now I have to intervene. “Watch your language.”
She glares at me, then turns back to my mother.
“He’s not my friend and he never will be,” she says, resolutely.
“Then a slice of apple tart won’t change anything, will it?”
My mother’s been playing this game for years.
“Don’t you dare bring us glasses of milk.”
Now it’s Mum’s turn to unsuccessfully stifle her laughter.
“I’m being serious!” Skylar says, losing patience.
“Would a Coke be better?”
“She’s making fun of me, isn’t she?” she asks, this time turning to me.
“I can’t be sure.”
Skylar huffs, muttering something under her breath that is probably better left unheard, before storming upstairs, leaving us alone in the kitchen.
“She likes him, doesn’t she?” she asks me.
“Who? The nerd?”
She looks questioningly at me.
“I’m scared she’ll kill him if we leave them alone. It’s probably best to make them study down here.”
“Stop exaggerating.”
“You haven’t seen the way she looks at him.”
“She’s just scared. It’s her defence mechanism. She’s scared of not being accepted.”
“Probably, but come on? Saying that she likes him…”
“She reminds me a lot of you.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“You used to shut people out, too.”
“But I had loads of friends.”
“Friends who were all the spitting image of you. People who followed you around, imitated everything you did.”
“What are you getting at?”
“You were only comfortable around the people who were familiar to you.”
“I was fine with anyone who had something in common with me. That’s normal, isn’t it?”
“Maybe, but I always thought that going against what everyone expected, showing a different side to yourself, would have done you some good.”
I smile at my mother. Her concerns seem to mirror everything I’m worried about for Skylar: that’s why I’m pushing her to make new friends. But I really don’t think that she likes Carter.
There’s a knock at the front door; not even a second passes before Skylar has thrown her bedroom door open and flown down the stairs.
“Don’t you dare go and open that door!” she hisses, rushing towards the living room. But I’m new to this job, being a father – and I’m also a bit of an arse. So before she can stop me, I’m already in the hallway.
“You’ll pay for this,” she hisses, as I plaster a smug smile onto my face and open the door to welcome our guest.
“You must be Carter. Skylar’s told me so much about you.”
Carter’s face flushes beet red, as my daughter appears from behind me.
“Come on, I don’t have all day.”
“Oh… Sure, I…”
“Please, come in,” I say, gesturing for him to step inside. “My mum’s made apple tart.”
“Is that really necessary?” Skylar asks, already pissed off.
“Do you like it?” I ask him, ignoring her.
“O-of course, sir.”
“Sir?”
He nods, nervous.
“You can call me Coach Kerry.”
“O-okay.”
“Do you play?”
He stares at me in total confusion. “Nintendo or PS4?”
I burst into laughter as my daughter’s face turns purple: ironically, her least favourite colour.
“I meant sport.”
“No, sir.”
“Have you ever played GAA?”
“Never.”
“Are you done?” Skylar groans.
“You should give it a try.”
“I don’t think I’d be very good.”
“How do you know that if you’ve never tried?”
He shrugs uncomfortably. My daughter takes this opportunity to grab the boy by his jacket and yank him behind her.
“That’s enough now, Kerry.”
“You’re right, sorry. I’ve kept you too long, and you kids have to study.”
“We’re going upstairs.”
“You could use the living room instead?”
She glares at me.
“No one will disturb you.”
“Do you really think I believe you?”
I don’t even believe myself. “Go on, then.”
My daughter rolls her eyes, dragging her poor tutor behind her. I smile, pleased with myself and of my first encounter with my daughter’s friend. All things considered, I think it went pretty well – so I decide to grab my phone and share the good news with my favourite headmistress.
I guess I don’t suck so much after all.
What are you talking about?
As a dad.
Silence. A silence I
’m not particularly fond of.
Carter’s here.
Here? As in, at your house?
Exactly. He came to study with Skylar. They’re in her room now.
Alone?
Sure.
Is the door open?
I don’t think so, I heard her slam it. Why?
Your daughter is fifteen. Carter’s sixteen.
So?
They’re teenagers. They’re alone.
“Oh, fuck!”
I don’t type that: I say it as I’m taking the stairs two at a time, heading towards my daughter’s bedroom door, which is closed. I knock. I don’t want to come bursting in furiously and grab him by the scruff of her neck. I open it slowly. My daughter is sitting on the windowsill, Carter on the bed.
I’m already uncomfortable with the situation.
“What?” she asks, eyeing me up. My phone buzzes in my hand.
I glance at the screen.
You went into her room, didn’t you?
“Well?” my daughter says, dragging my attention back to her.
I can’t make myself look like an arse again, or show my daughter that I don’t trust her. So I fumble around for an excuse.
“Grandma wants to know if you want any apple tart.”
I’m sure Mum won’t mind me saying that.
“Kerry…” my daughter warns.
“I’d like some apple tart,” Carter responds timidly.
“And I like the fact you like it,” I tell him, satisfied.
Skylar rolls her eyes.
“It’s downstairs.” I use the dessert as a convenient excuse to get them out of the room. “You could always study down there, too?”
“We’ve only just opened the book,” Skylar protests.
“You’d be comfier down there.”
“I don’t mind,” Carter says, getting to his feet. My daughter begrudgingly does the same.
“I’m not eating any of your fucking apple tart,” she says, glaring daggers at me.
“You can do whatever you want. Me and my friend Carter,” I say, wrapping my arm around his shoulders, “will eat enough for the both of you.”
Niall
How is it going?
I look at my phone. Apparently, my headmistress can’t survive even five minutes without talking to me.
I dragged them out of her room. Now they’re in the living room, under my supervision.
Doesn’t that seem a little harsh?
You should’ve thought of that before you gave me a heart attack.