This Girl: A Novel Read online

  I return her hug, but the sheet of paper that just flashed in front of my face has left my entire body feeling like an immobile solid block of concrete.

  She’s holding a schedule.

  I suddenly can’t breathe.

  She’s holding a class schedule.

  This can’t be good.

  Mrs. Alex said something about enrolling a new student.

  Oh, shit.

  Holy shit.

  I immediately begin to internally panic. I wrap my fingers around her wrists and pull her arms away from my neck before someone sees us. Please let me be wrong. Please.

  “Lake,” I say, shaking my head—trying to make sense of this. “Where . . . what are you doing here?”

  She lets out a frustrated sigh and thrusts the schedule into my chest. “I’m trying to find this stupid elective but I’m lost,” she whines. “Help me!”

  Oh, shit. What the hell have I done?

  I take a step back against the wall, attempting to give myself space to think. Space to breathe.

  “Lake, no . . .” I say. I hand her back the schedule without even looking at it. There’s no need to look at it. I know exactly where her “stupid elective” is. I can’t seem to process a coherent thought while looking at her, so I turn around and clasp my hands behind my head.

  She’s a student?

  I’m her teacher?

  Oh, shit.

  I close my eyes and think back to the past week. Who have I told? Who saw us together? Gavin. Shit. There’s no telling who else may have been at Club N9NE. And Lake! She’s about to figure this out any second. What if she thinks I was trying to hide this from her? She could go straight to administration and end my career.

  As soon as the thought crosses my mind, she picks up her backpack and begins to storm off. I reach out and pull her to a stop. “Where are you going?” It’s obvious she’s pissed and I hope her intentions aren’t to report me.

  She rolls her eyes and sighs. “I get it, Will,” she says. “I get it. I’ll leave you alone before your girlfriend sees us.” She pulls her arm out of my grasp and turns away from me.

  “Girlfr—no. No, Lake. I don’t think you do get it.” I wait for her to process what’s happening. I would just come out and say it, but I can’t. I don’t think I could say it out loud if I wanted to.

  The sound of footsteps closing in on us diverts her attention away from me. Javier suddenly rounds the corner and comes to a quick stop when he sees me in the hallway.

  “Oh, man, I thought I was late,” he says.

  If Lake hasn’t figured it all out by now, she’s about to.

  “You are late, Javier,” I reply. I open the door to my classroom and wave him inside. “Javi, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Let the class know they have five minutes to review before the exam.” I slowly close the door behind me and look down at the floor. I can’t look at her. I don’t think my heart can take what she’s about to feel. There’s a brief moment of silence before she quietly gasps. I raise my eyes to hers and the disappointment on her face tears my heart in two. She gets it now.

  “Will,” she whispers painfully. “Please don’t tell me . . .”

  Her voice is weak and she tilts her head slightly to the side, slowly shaking her head back and forth. She isn’t angry. She’s hurt. I’d almost rather her be pissed right now than feel the way she’s feeling. I look up at the ceiling and rub my hands over my face in an attempt not to punch the damn wall. How could I be so stupid? Why wasn’t my profession the first thing I thought to share with her? Why did I not see this as a possibility? I continue to pace, hoping beyond all hope that I’m the one not getting it. When I reach the lockers in front of me, I tap my head against them, silently cursing myself. I’ve really screwed it up this time. For both of us. I drop my hands and reluctantly roll around to face her.

  “How did I not see this? You’re still in high school?”

  She backs up to the wall behind her and leans against it for support. “Me?” she says in defense. “How did the fact that you’re a teacher not come up? How are you a teacher? You’re only twenty-one.”

  I realize I’m going to have to answer a lot of her questions. My teaching situation isn’t particularly normal, so I understand her confusion. But we can’t do this here. Not right now.

  “Layken, listen.” I realize when her name falls off my tongue that I didn’t call her “Lake.” I guess that’s probably best at this point. “There has apparently been a huge misunderstanding between the two of us.” I look away from her when I finish my sentence. An overwhelming feeling of guilt overcomes me when I look into her eyes, so I just don’t. “We need to talk about this, but now is definitely not the right time.”

  “I agree,” she whispers. It sounds like she’s attempting not to cry. I couldn’t take it if she cried.

  The door to my classroom opens and Eddie walks out into the hall, looking directly at Lake. “Layken, I was just coming to look for you,” she says. “I saved you a seat.” She looks at me, then back at Lake, leaving no traces or hint that she’s put two and two together. Good. That just leaves Gavin to contend with. “Oh, sorry, Mr. Cooper. I didn’t know you were out here.”

  I stand straight and walk toward the classroom door. “It’s fine, Eddie. I was just going over Layken’s schedule with her.” I pull the door open wider and wait for Lake and Eddie to make their way into the room. I’m thankful it’s a test day. There’s no way I would be able to lecture right now.

  “Who’s the hottie?” Javier asks when Lake slides into her seat.

  “Shut it, Javi!” I snap. I am so not in the mood for his smart-ass comments right now. I reach over and grab the stack of tests.

  “Chill out, Mr. Cooper. I was paying her a compliment.” He leans back in his chair and gives Lake a slow, full-body glance that makes my blood boil. “She’s hot. Look at her.”

  I point to the classroom door. “Javi, get out!”

  He snaps his focus back to me. “Mr. Cooper! Jeez! What’s with the temp? Like I said, I was just . . .”

  “Like I said, get out! You will not disrespect women in my classroom!”

  He snatches his books off his desk. “Fine. I’ll go disrespect them in the hallway!”

  After the door shuts behind him, I cringe at my own behavior. I’ve never lost my temper in a classroom before. I look back at the students and everyone is watching Lake, waiting on some sort of reaction from her. Everyone except Gavin. His eyes are burrowing a hole right through me. I give him a slight nod, letting him know that I acknowledge the fact that we obviously have a lot to discuss. For right now, though, it’s back to the task at hand.

  “Class, we have a new student. This is Layken Cohen,” I say, quickly wanting to brush what just happened under the rug. “Review is over. Put up your notes.”

  “You’re not going to have her introduce herself?” Eddie asks.

  “We’ll get to that another time,” I say, holding up the papers. “Tests.”

  I begin passing out the tests. When I reach Gavin’s desk, he looks up at me inquisitively. “Lunch,” I whisper, letting him know I’ll explain everything then. He nods and takes his test, finally breaking eye contact.

  When I pass out all but one of the tests, I reluctantly walk closer to her desk. “Lake,” I say. I quickly clear my throat and correct myself. “Layken, if you have something else to work on, feel free. The class is completing a chapter test.”

  She straightens up in her desk and looks down at her hands. “I’d rather just take the test,” she says quietly. I place the paper on her desk, then make my way back to my seat.

  I spend the rest of the hour grading papers from the first two classes. I occasionally catch myself peeking in her direction, trying hard not to stare. She just keeps erasing and rewriting answers over and over. I don’t know why she chose to take the test; she hasn’t been here for any of the lectures. I break my gaze from her paper and look up. Gavin is glaring at me again, so I dart my eyes down at m
y watch right when the dismissal bell rings. Everyone quickly files to the front of the room and places their papers on my desk.

  “Hey, did you get your lunch switched?” Eddie asks Lake.

  I watch as Eddie and Lake converse about her schedule and I’m secretly relieved that Lake has already found a friend. I’m not so sure I like that it’s Eddie, though. I don’t have a problem with Eddie. It’s just that Gavin knows way too much now and I’m not sure if he would tell Eddie or not. I hope not. I glance back down to my desk as soon as Eddie begins to walk away from Lake. Rather than exiting the classroom, she heads straight to my desk. I look up at her and she removes something from her purse. She shakes a few mints into her hand and lays them on my desk.

  “Altoids,” she says. “I’m just making assumptions here, but I’ve heard Altoids work wonders on hangovers.” She pushes the mints toward me and walks away.

  I stare at the mints, unnerved that she assumed I have a hangover. I must not be as good at hiding my emotions as I thought I was. I’m disappointed in myself. Disappointed I lost my temper, disappointed I didn’t use my head when it came to the whole situation with Lake, disappointed that I now have this huge dilemma facing me. I’m still staring at the mints when Lake walks to the desk and places her paper on top of the pile.

  “Is my mood that obvious?” I say rhetorically. She takes two of the mints and walks out of the room without saying a word. I sigh and lean back in the chair, kicking my feet up on the desk. This is by far the second-worst day of my life.

  “I can’t wait that long, man.” Gavin walks back into the room and closes the door behind him. He throws his backpack on the desk in front of me, then scoots it closer and climbs into it. “What the hell, Will? What were you thinking?”

  I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. I’m not ready to talk about this right now, but I do owe him an explanation. I bring my feet down from the desk and rest my head in my hands, rubbing my temples with my fingers. “We didn’t know.”

  Gavin laughs incredulously. “Didn’t know? How the hell could you not know?”

  I close my eyes and sigh. He’s right. How did we not know? “I don’t know. It just . . . it never came up,” I say. “I was out of town all weekend. We haven’t spoken since our date Thursday. It just . . . somehow it never came up.” I shake my head, sorting through my thoughts as they’re flowing from my lips. I’m a jumbled mess.

  “So you just found out she’s a student? Like, just now?”

  I nod.

  “You didn’t have sex with her, did you?”

  His question takes a moment to register. He takes my silence as an admission of guilt and he leans forward and whispers, “You had sex with her, didn’t you? You’re gonna get fired, man.”

  “No, I didn’t have sex with her!” I snap.

  He continues to glare at me, attempting to analyze my demeanor. “Then why are you so upset? If you didn’t have sex with her, you can’t really get in trouble. I doubt she’ll report it if all you did was kiss her. Is that what you’re worried about? That she’ll report you?”

  I shake my head, because that’s not at all what I’m worried about. I could see in Lake’s demeanor that the thought of reporting me never even crossed her mind. She was upset, but not with me.

  “No. No, I know she won’t say anything. It’s just . . .” I run my hand across my forehead and sigh. I have no idea how to handle this. No idea. “Shit,” I say, exasperated. “I just need to think, Gavin.”

  I run my fingers through my hair and clasp my hands behind my head. I don’t think I’ve ever been this confused and overwhelmed in my life. Everything I’ve worked for could possibly be going to hell today simply because of my stupidity. I’ve got three months left until graduation, and there’s a good chance if this gets out, I’ve just ruined my entire career.

  What confuses me though is the fact that it’s not my career that has me in a jumbled mess right now. It’s her. These emotions are a direct result of her. The main reason why I’m so upset right now is that it feels like I somehow just broke her heart.

  “Oh,” Gavin says quietly. “Shit.”

  I look up at him, confused by his reaction. “What?”

  He stands up and points to me. “You like her,” he says. “That’s why you’re so upset. You already fell for her, didn’t you?” He grabs his backpack and starts walking backward toward the door, shaking his head. I don’t even bother denying it. He saw the way I was looking at her the other night.

  When the classroom door opens and several students begin to file in, he walks back to my desk and whispers, “Eddie doesn’t know anything. I didn’t recognize anyone else at the slam, so don’t worry about that part of it. You just need to figure out what you need to do.” He turns toward the classroom door and exits . . . just as my faculty advisor enters.

  Shit!

  •••

  IF THERE’S ONE thing I’ve learned how to do well in my life, it’s adapt.

  I somehow made it through the observation unscathed and somehow made it to the end of last period without bashing my fists into a wall. Whether or not I’ll make it through the rest of the day just knowing I’m right across the street from her is still up in the air.

  When Caulder and I pull into the driveway, she’s sitting in her Jeep. She’s got her arm over her eyes and it looks like she’s crying.

  “Can I go to Kel’s?” Caulder asks when he climbs out of the car.

  I nod. I leave my things in the car and shut my door, then slowly make my way across the street. When I reach the back of her car, I pause to gather my thoughts. I know what needs to be done, but knowing something and accepting it are two completely different things. I asked myself over and over today what my parents would have done in this situation. What would most people do in this situation? Of course, the answer is obviously to do the right thing. The responsible thing. I mean, we went on one date. Who would quit a job over one date?

  This shouldn’t be this hard. Why is this so hard?

  I walk closer and lightly tap on her passenger window. She jerks up and flips the visor down and looks in the mirror, attempting to wipe away traces of her heartache. When the door unlocks, I open it and take a seat. I shut the door behind me and adjust the seat, then prop my foot on the dash. My gaze falls to the note that I left under her wiper this morning. It’s unfolded, lying on her console. When I wrote the words, see you at four o’clock, this isn’t how I envisioned four o’clock at all. I glance up at her and she’s avoiding looking at me. Just seeing her causes my words to catch in my throat. I have no idea what to say. I have no idea where her head is right now.

  “What are you thinking?” I finally ask.

  She slowly turns toward me and pulls her leg up into the seat. She wraps her arms around it and rests her chin on top of her knee. I’ve never wanted to be a knee so bad in my entire life.

  “I’m confused as hell, Will. I don’t know what to think.”

  Honestly, I don’t know what to think, either. God, I’m such an asshole. How could I have let this happen? I sigh and look out the passenger window. I can’t for the life of me hold my composure if I keep looking into those eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “This is all my fault.”

  “It’s nobody’s fault,” she says. “In order for there to be fault, there has to be some sort of conscious decision. You didn’t know, Will.”

  I didn’t know. But it’s my own damn fault that I didn’t know.

  “That’s just it, Lake,” I say, turning to face her. “I should have known. I’m in an occupation that doesn’t just require ethics inside the classroom; they apply to all aspects of my life. I wasn’t aware because I wasn’t doing my job. When you told me you were eighteen, I just assumed you were in college.”

  She looks away and whispers, “I’ve only been eighteen for two weeks.”

  That sentence. If that sentence could have just been spoken a few days ago, this entire situation would have been avoided. Why the hel
l didn’t I just ask her when her birthday was? I close my eyes and rest my head against the seat, preparing to explain my unique situation to her. I want her to have a better understanding of why this can’t work between us.

  “I student teach,” I say. “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “After my parents died, I doubled up on all my classes. I have enough credits to graduate a semester early. Since the school was so shorthanded, they offered me a one-year contract. I have three months left of student teaching. After that I’m under contract through June of next year.” I look over at her and her eyes are closed. She’s shaking her head ever so slightly like she doesn’t comprehend what I’m saying, or she just doesn’t want to hear it.

  “Lake, I need this job. It’s what I’ve been working toward for three years. We’re broke. My parents left me with a mound of debt and now college tuition. I can’t quit now.”

  She darts her eyes toward me, almost like I’ve insulted her.

  “Will, I understand. I’d never ask you to jeopardize your career. You’ve worked hard. It would be stupid if you threw that away for someone you’ve only known for three days.”

  Oh, but I would. If you would just ask me to . . . I would.

  “I’m not saying you would ask me that. I just want you to understand where I’m coming from.”

  “I do understand,” she says. “It’s ridiculous to assume we even have anything worth risking.”

  She can deny it all she wants, but whatever it is that I’m feeling, I know she’s feeling it, too. I can see it in her eyes. “We both know it’s more than that.”

  As soon as the words leave my lips, I immediately regret them. This girl is my student. S-T-U-D-E-N-T! I’ve got to get this through my head.

  We’re both silent. The lack of conversation only invites the emotions we’ve been trying to suppress. She begins to cry, and despite the fact that my conscience is screaming at me, I can’t help but console her. I pull her to me and she buries her face in my shirt. I want so bad to push the thought out of my head that this is the last time I’m going to hold her like this—but I know it’s true. I know once we separate, it’s over. There’s no way I can continue to be around her with the way she consumes my every thought. I know, deep down, that this is good-bye.