by S. E. Law
My teacher’s monotonous voice causes an involuntary groan to slip from my lips, making the entire class turn around and stare at me.
“Am I boring you, Miss Linwood?”
Mrs. Miller says “Miss” with a lisp, probably due to her huge overbite.
“Um sorry, no?”
My response comes out more as a question than a statement. Snickers are heard around the room, and my best friend, Chastity, smacks my arm in warning.
Mrs. Miller is not amused as she places her hands on her hips. I knew I should have skipped her class today. The bell rings, and everyone jumps out of their seats, thankfully blocking Mrs. Miller’s view of me and saving me from the laser beams that are about to shoot from her eyes.
“Renee, you really should start paying attention,” Chastity shakes her head at me as I gather my books and throw them in my backpack.
“Whatever,” I roll my eyes and follow behind her.
But just as I’m about to stroll out of the classroom, I hear my name being called.
“Miss Linwood, can I have a minute?”
“I’ll wait for you by the flagpole,” Chastity whispers, shooting me a sympathetic look. “Good luck.”
I plod over to Mrs. Miller’s desk reluctantly. Glaring up at me, she leans back in her chair and places her hands under her sagging breasts. This woman needs to be introduced to a push-up bra and a dentist.
“Yes, Mrs. Miller?” I ask, wanting to get the lecture over with.
“Do you know that I can probably count on one hand how many times you’ve actually been to class this semester?”
“Oh really?” I try to appear vague and confused.
“Renee,” she huffs. “You’re a senior. Do you want to fail my class and not graduate?”
I want to tell her that I don’t really care about school or about graduating, but my father pops into my mind. Daddy would be devastated if I dropped out of school and didn’t get my diploma. He’s already picked out a handful of colleges for me to look at, and I hate to disappoint him.
I sigh heavily.
“What can I do?” is my defeated question.
Mrs. Miller’s eyes gleam brightly.
“Write a one-thousand-word essay on the Prohibition era to start with. Due by the end of the month,” she announces.
Oh god, I don’t want to do this. I’m already so busy, but slowly I nod my head.
“Okay,” I say. Mrs. Miller nods with a satisfied smile on her face.
“You need to get your head out of the clouds, Miss Linwood. Creating doodles on notebook paper isn’t going to get you through life.”
Mrs. Miller’s unsolicited advice angers me to no end. I duck my head and mumble something that’s incomprehensible before hurrying out of the classroom and down the hallway, which is now empty. Good. Hopefully I got out of there before she realized how little I think of her, and of school in general.
After all, the only passion I have in life is art, and it seems the world I live in doesn’t support any kind of future that’s artistic. All my teachers want to cram down my throat is numbers, facts about the past, and other useless information the Board of Education forces us to learn. But art classes are optional and you can only take one class per semester because of all the other required courses. Blegh.
Last year, I couldn’t even take an art elective because I was forced to take an SAT prep course instead. I had been unbelievably pissed, to say the least. The only class I look forward to each semester was taken away from me, all to prepare for a stupid test to help me get into college. But the problem is, I don’t even really want to go to college, much less apply.
I quickly march toward the staircase, my fringe boots clicking on the tiled floor as I hurry down the stairs like I’m trying to escape a fire that’s filling my high school. Sometimes, I wish a fire would consume this hell hole I hate so much.
After all, when I’m in this place, an overwhelming sense of suffocation consumes me. The walls confine me, the teachers want to control me, and my peers annoy me with their immaturity and pettiness.
As soon as I push the door open, fresh air fills my lungs and sunshine warms my face. A sense of freedom relieves me of the burden I’d felt when I was inside the building. I jog toward the flagpole, where Chastity is waiting for me with her long, beautiful blonde hair blowing in the wind as if she’s in a Pantene commercial.
“How badly did Mrs. Miller lay into you?” she asks sympathetically.
I sigh. “She gave me an extra assignment to make up for all of the work I’m missing.”
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry to hear that,” says my friend, shooting me a sideways look. “That blows. It’s so close to graduation too.”
I just shrug.
“Hey, at least I’m still graduating,” is my return smile.
With that, we start walking toward the front gate that leads to the parking lot. I tug my skirt down when we walk past a boy who is staring at me. I can feel his eyes on my butt as we pass. I shoot him a glare over my shoulder, and he quickly pretends to look up at the sky. Idiot.
“I honestly don’t know why your other teachers aren’t giving you a harder time,” Chastity laughs, shaking her head, oblivious to my interaction with the hormonal boy.
“It’s not even two months into the school year, Chas,” I sigh. “Mrs. Miller’s being a bitch. Why is she like this already?”
“I have no idea. Mrs. Miller is going to be the death of me too this year,” Chastity moans.
I nod, appreciating my friend’s empathy. Chastity Cooper gets me because she and I have been best friends since second grade, and as long as I’ve known her, she’s been a goody two-shoes who tends to panic when she’s stressed out. We couldn’t be more different from one another, but I think that’s why we make great friends.
While I’m fiery with a bee in my bonnet sometimes, Chastity lives up to her name. She’s sweet and innocent and as pure as they come. Sometimes I worry about people taking advantage of her naïveté, and that’s why I keep my eyes open for the both of us.
“Ugh, don’t worry,” I tell her, brushing it all off with a wave of my hand. “It’s our senior year. Most teachers will go easy on us as the school year progresses. They don’t want us back here next year, trust me,” I laugh.
That comment even draws a giggle out of anxious Chastity.
As we walk through the parking lot, I spot my boyfriend, Billy Borg, sitting on his car and smoking pot with his friends. I roll my eyes and nod toward him, nudging Chastity. She gasps.
“He’s going to get suspended if anyone catches him,” Chastity frets.
Billy is known for his bad boy reputation. He comes off as the typical mysterious and dangerous bad boy you see in teen movies. Complete with a leather jacket and a beat-up sports car.
I’ll be honest, Billy’s image is what attracted me to him in the first place. Living in a small town where I don’t tend to fit in because of my chubby body with its cartoonish curves and my sass, I’m drawn to anything that makes me stand out. Unfortunately, Billy’s image is just that – an image. Underneath the leather and joints, he’s a dweeb who doesn’t know where to put his hands when we make out.
I walk up to Billy as he slides down from the hood of his old Camaro with a playful look in his eyes.
“Hey, baby,” he says, blowing smoke in my face and making me cough.
I shove Billy away, but he just laughs and pulls me against him, squeezing me in his arms and kissing me in front of all of his friends. His slobbery tongue is all over the place as it enters my mouth, making it hard for me to keep up with his movements. Billy’s idiot friends cheer as we make-out against his car.
I pull away, wiping Billy’s saliva off of my bottom lip.
“You want a ride home?” he asks loud enough for his friends to hear, insinuating that I’d be riding him.
I chuckle, playing along with his phony image, and kiss his cheek.
“I promised Chastity I’d take the bus with her,” I say, gra
bbing the joint out of his clammy hand and taking a hit.
Billy smiles at me and runs a hand through his reddish-brown hair. The truth is, we haven’t even come close to having sex. We’ve been dating since the first week of the school year, but honestly, I haven’t spent much time alone with Billy.
His friends are always hanging around, and so is the marijuana, which isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac. Billy usually falls asleep before I can even get my top off. Besides, I’m not in any sort of rush to lose my virginity to Billy Borg.
There really isn’t much substance to him—physically or emotionally. He’s attractive, but I don’t know if I’m actually attracted to him. On top of that, his kissing skills leave a lot to be desired. Making-out with Billy is like him declaring war on my tongue, and I always seem to be on the losing side.
He looks past me at Chastity and nods at her before his eyes draw back to me. Trying to be cool and seductive, he talks loud enough for his friends to hear. Everything Billy does is for show, and I hate that.
“You free tonight?”
“I’m going out with my dad,” I explain. “Tomorrow?”
Billy nods his head with a smile before capturing my lips in another slobbery kiss. I pull away when his tongue tries to assault mine again, and I pat his chest, letting him know he needs to ease up. I know he’s trying to impress his friends and hang on to his image, but I’m already bored of it. Bored of him, actually. He’s a phony, and that’s one quality I can’t tolerate.
As I turn around to walk back to Chastity, a hand whacks my ass hard. Snapping around, I shoot Billy a dirty look as his friends make inappropriate comments.
Damn, girl.
Claim that ass, Billy.
I grab Billy by the collar of his jacket and pull him to me like I’m going to whisper something sexy in his ear.
“Do that to me again in public, and you will lose your dick before you ever get to use it,” I hiss before kissing his cheek as if I’m not mad.
Sticking my middle finger up at Billy’s friends, I head back over to Chastity, pissed as hell. I fucking hate these people. Such immature assholes, and my boyfriend is the king of them!
I receive plenty of attention for my curvy figure—most of it unwanted attention from teenage boys and even some pervy teachers.
Most girls my age are still filling out, but over the past couple of years, my body has sprouted into that of a full-blown woman’s. With double-D’s and a thick waist that leads into full hips and a shelf-ass, as the boys in school call it, I’ve grown used to the stares and inappropriate comments.
Like all of my old clothes, I’m also outgrowing high school. My body isn’t the only thing that’s evolved over the past couple of years. My desires and passions have changed or—more accurately—expanded as well.
The truth is, my mind is never on studying or high school drama or even what college I’m going to next year. My mind is only ever on three things: art, getting my own way, and Kane Forrester.
Kane is the one guy I’ve had my eye on my entire life. He’s fucking sexy as hell with jet black hair, cobalt blue eyes that stare into my soul, and a smile that always makes it look like he has a secret.
And that’s just his face…
Kane’s body is equally as impressive as his gorgeous facial features. On top of being some sort of sex god created on Mount Olympus—see, I pay attention in school sometimes—Kane is a mature man with a little bad boy thrown in there somewhere.
There is only one flaw about Kane…
He is forty-five-years-old… the same age as my father! Worse than that, Kane went to college with my dad, and they’re still best friends today. To make it all just a little more inappropriate, Kane is also my godfather. But that doesn’t stop me from fantasizing about his lips on mine, knowing that his experienced tongue wouldn’t slobber and wiggle wildly like Billy’s does.
The sun hits my eyes on the short walk to the quiet bus stop. The summer weather hasn’t cooled off yet, even though it is now well into the fall. Not that I mind hanging on to my tan a bit longer or lounging by the pool on the weekends. I prefer an Indian summer over the stubborn winter that we’ve grown accustomed to in New York.
Living in the village of Tarrytown, just north of New York City, makes our winters a bit more brutal and isolated, but it paints beautiful Thomas Kinkade-esque snowy scenes that inspire many of my sketches… as well as my snowbound fantasies of Kane and me.
“What do you see in Billy?” Chastity asks as we wait for the bus.
I shift my weight from one leg to the other and shrug my shoulders.
“He’s cute,” I reply, hating how shallow the words sound coming from my lips.
“He’s not that cute,” Chastity responds, tilting her head to the side.
We look at each other for a moment before laughing. The sound fills the street, which is crowded with other kids from my high school who are also waiting for the bus.
“I know you don’t like Billy, Chas, but it’s not like I’m going to marry him,” I reason.
Hell, at this rate, I don’t think Billy and I will last past next week. I’ve only tolerated him for this long because I’m bored with school and life.
Chastity sighs and looks at me with concern in her innocent blue eyes.
“I just think you deserve better, you know?”
“I know,” I smile at her. “You know he acts like a goon when his friends are around.”
“Anyway,” Chastity changes the subject. “What are you and your dad doing tonight?”
“We’re hanging out at Kane’s house,” I say with a smile splaying across my lips. “His pool is still open, so we’re milking the weather for one last swim day.”
“You’re milking the weather for one last chance at seeing Kane in his swim trunks!” Chastity says, shoving my arm.
“Of course I am. God, if only I was older… or he was younger…” I sigh hopelessly.
“Trust me, you’d rather be older. Younger guys are like Billy and the rest of the boys at school,” Chastity concludes.
Chastity could have her pick of any of the boys at school. She’s the complete package—brains, beauty, and as sweet as pie. But she’s laser-focused on school. In my opinion, too much so. Also, dating is something that is frowned upon by Chastity’s strict parents. No wonder they gave her that name! It’s like some kind of metaphorical chastity belt, yet it’s also literal… her name is Chastity for crying out loud!
“Somehow, I’d bet Kane still acted like a man in high school,” I disagree with her view on all younger guys.
She shrugs me off before mulling the thought over for a second.
“Yeah, I guess. I bet your dad was still a gentleman when he was our age too.”
My eyes shoot over at Chastity with my brows raised curiously.
“What?” she asks innocently.
Stifling my giggle, I respond with a shrug of my shoulders.
Chastity won’t admit it, but I know she has a little crush on my father. She finds ways to slip his name into our conversations, and if she comes over to my house, she asks where he is. If Daddy happens to be home, her face is beet red the entire time he’s near her. I’m pretty sure my father thinks Chastity’s natural complexion is maroon.
The bus pulls to a stop in front of us. Along with all of the other teenagers on our bus stop, we get onto the vehicle. The ride is noisy, with a million conversations taking off among the kids.
“You girls coming to the rager this weekend?” Bruce Davis asks from behind us.
“No,” Chastity answers quickly.
“You’re no fun,” Bruce sighs.
She bats her pretty blue eyes at him and shrugs.
“If getting high at a party is your idea of fun, then I guess I’m not.”
“How about you, Renee?”
“Maybe,” I shrug my shoulders. “I’ll have to see what Billy wants to do.”
“Alright.” Bruce smiles and looks over at Chastity. “If you change your mind,
your Uber is on me,” he winks at her.
Chastity smiles at him, and as soon as Bruce is distracted, I nudge her with my elbow.
“I think someone has a crush,” I whisper.
“I do not!” she gasps.
Laughter escapes my lips as Chastity overreacts at what she obviously perceives is an accusation toward her. I love getting a rise out of my best friend.
“I mean, Bruce has a crush on you, goober,” I say softly.
“Oh,” she sounds surprised as she looks back at him briefly. “Really?”
“Yup, but I know you don’t have time for dating,” I smirk at her.
“What’s the point? I’m going away to college in a few months.”
“It’s the beginning of the school year, Chas. And what’s the point?” I scoff at her. “There’s that whole popping your cherry business that could be fun.”
My words are more to embarrass her than anything else. The blush quickly takes over her alabaster skin as she shushes me.
“Renee!”
“What?” I giggle as the bus turns onto our block.
Chastity and I bounce off of the bus and head halfway down the street before going into our separate houses. I walk through the door of my quiet, three-bedroom house. It’s just my father and me living here; it’s always been the two of us, ever since my mother ran out on us before I could even walk.
Apparently, Mom hadn’t been ready to be a wife and mother, nor do I think she ever will be ready. I tried reaching out to her when I was twelve by sending her a friend request on Facebook. She must have blocked me because suddenly, I couldn’t find her profile anymore. I made Chastity search from her Facebook account, and sure enough, my mother’s profile popped up for her.
Ever since then, I stopped wondering how my mother was, or who she was. She still didn’t want me, so I stopped wanting her.
Besides, my father is amazing. He has always been there by my side, supporting me financially and emotionally. He took me to get my first bra and explained about periods. He warned me about boys and sex. I can talk to him about anything, and I’m so grateful for that.