Rock Bottom Girl(53)

“Can you watch the hockey game for me?” I asked him without looking away from Lisabeth’s smug face.

“Sure. Yeah.”

“Great. Let’s go, Hooper.”

“Where are we going?” she sassed.

“To have a little chat.”

Under a full head of steam, I marched Lisabeth into my locker room office. “What’s your problem now, Coach?” she asked, examining her fingernails like she was bored.

But she underestimated me. I had experience dealing with girls like her at that age and every other age.

“That’s funny. I was going to ask you the same thing. See, I’m new here. I don’t have the benefit of knowing you for your entire high school career. So let me tell you what I see.”

“Goody,” she said with an eye roll.

“I see an entitled, insecure bully trying to make herself feel good by tearing other people down.”

“You can’t talk to me that way. It’s against the anti-bullying policy,” she snapped, her face turning crimson.

“Oh, and what’s hitting someone with a hockey stick?”

“An accident. She got in my way. I was going for the ball.”

“I don’t get it. Do your parents fall for this? Your teachers? Or are they all just biting their nails and clinging to the hope that maybe you’ll get into college and move far, far away and make a bunch of strangers miserable?”

Lisabeth was gaping at me. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Do you think people like you because you’re an emotional, teenage terrorist? Do you think that makes you popular? Worthy? Do you think whispering mean little lies to people makes you better than them? Because let me tell you what it actually makes you. Pathetic. And I’ve seen a hundred girls like you graduate and go out into the real world and get chewed up and spit back out.”

Okay, that part wasn’t necessarily true. Some of them married Cadillac dealership owners and lived happily ever after in their mansions.

“You can’t talk to me like this. I’ll go to the school board.”

“And what? Get me fired from my temporary job? Or is this finally the excuse that all your teachers and your so-called friends have been waiting for? A reason to finally take away your power. What would you be if you weren’t popular? What do you have left as a human being?”

“I have my friends!”

“You have people you gossip about behind their backs. You know, the acoustics in here are really good. What do you think Morgan W. would think about you telling the bronzer triplets that you think she’s a slut for going to second base with the guy you have a crush on?”

“You’re a shitty coach and an even shittier teacher!”

“Oooh. Now you’re swearing at me, and I feel kind of threatened,” I said, crossing my arms. “Do you know where you’ll be in five years? Sitting in a divorce lawyer’s office because your $50,000 wedding was the beginning of the end to some poor idiot who thought he loved you. But you can’t hide mean forever. And that’s what you are. A sad, mean girl whose only joy in life comes from inflicting misery on others. I feel sorry for you.”

“I fucking hate you!”

“Yeah, the truth hurts. And guess what? I don’t care if you were the high scorer last year. You’re off my team. I don’t have room for bullies.”

“My mom is going to sue you and ruin your life,” she shrieked.

Culpepper must have turned into a litigious community. This was the second time I’d been threatened with a lawsuit. But it was amazing how freeing it was to have nothing to lose.

“She can do that. As soon as you report to the principal’s office.”

“I’ll tell everyone that you dyed the boys team red!”

I shrugged even though her threat made me uneasy. “Your word against mine, and I’m feeling pretty lucky today. Besides, you’re the one acting like a vindictive jerk chasing down a sophomore during gym class. I’m just the concerned coach and teacher looking out for my students.”

“I HATE YOU, you crazy bitch!”

“Lisabeth, this is your wake-up call. It’s not too late for you to be a better person.”

“Fuck. You. You’re just jealous because you’re old and ugly.”

Well, at least I tried.

I whistled as I followed her down the hall to the principal’s office.





“What steaming hot mess did you bring me?” Principal Eccles asked, thumbing open a bottle of aspirin.

“Lisabeth Hooper,” I said.

The principal eyed me as she shoved the aspirin back in the bottle and swapped it for a prescription migraine medicine.

“What did our lovely Ms. Hooper do?” she asked.

“Other than being just a shitty human being?” I was still mad. Really mad.

Eccles washed down a tablet with water. “This is where I’m supposed to tell you that teaching is not an opportunity for you to right the wrongs of your teen years. That you can’t insert yourself into student politics and hierarchies because it’s a more valuable learning experience when they live through it themselves.”

“I’m not so sure that Rachel will survive Lisabeth,” I interjected. “Lisabeth hit her with a hockey stick as hard as she could. On purpose. If her tibias aren’t fractured, I’ll be surprised.”