See Me After Class(124)

Smiling, I shake my head. “Unfathomable.”

He shakes his head and sits up. “Miss Gibson, I wish I could see you as happy one day. Happy like me.”

“Maybe Mrs. Dewitt has a suitor for me.”

The class chuckles as there’s another knock at the door.

I turn around to find Romeo walking in, wearing a petticoat.

Oh, dear Jesus.

The class laughs hysterically, and he motions his hands to tamp down their laughter. Once settled, he adjusts his . . . breasts, and the girl in the bonnet says, “Mr. Romero to see you . . . uh . . . Mr. Turner’s aunt, or something like that.”

Romeo looks around, lifts his chin, and says, “You have a very small classroom, madam.”

The girl in the bonnet says, “Can we offer you some tea, Mr. Romero?”

In a haughty voice, he says, “Absolutely not. I want to speak to Miss Gibson. Alone.”

Chuckie climbs off the desk and scurries out of the room.

Once he’s gone, Romeo says, “Are you aware of why I make my presence?”

Thinking back to the scene where Mr. Darcy’s aunt confronts Elizabeth, I say, “I can’t recall why I would have the honor.”

“I’m not to be trifled with,” Romeo says, stomping his foot. The class chuckles. “You intend on being engaged with my nephew, Mr. Turner. This is impossible behavior, and I’ve come to let you know.”

“If you perceive this as impossible, why are you here?”

“Don’t fool with me, girl. Can you confirm you haven’t been spreading such rumors of a proposal?”

“You marked such foolery as impossible. How could it be true?”

“Do not toy with me. Mr. Turner is to be engaged to my . . . uh . . .”

“Daughter,” I hear Arlo whisper from the door, and when I spot him, my heart leaps out of my chest, right toward him, begging him to take it.

“Right, he’s engaged to my daughter.”

“If that’s the case, he’d have no reason to make an offer to me,” I say.

I can feel the energy in the room—all my students, eyes on us, immersed in the moment—and right then and there, I can feel what Nyema was talking about, what Arlo was trying to portray. This is how you make them see it. How you make them understand. This is how you make it come to life and leave an impact. Tears well in my eyes once again.

This man, the one standing silently at the door . . . the proud man, the man full of prejudice—he’s opened my eyes in a way I never thought he would.

“You selfish girl,” Romeo shouts, bringing me back to the scene. “Your inferior birth will not stand in the way of my daughter getting married. Now tell me, are you engaged to him?”

“I am not,” I answer, barely able to see over my own tears.

“And you will promise to never enter into such an engagement?”

“I will not.” The class cheers, and I can’t hold back my smile. “You have insulted my family and me in every possible way. Now you must leave.” I go to the door and hold it open.

Romeo storms off, and when I shut the door, my class erupts into a cacophony of cheers.





Greer: I’m going to puke. Fifth period starts in five minutes. I know what’s supposed to happen today.

Stella: You know what you want, right?

Greer: I want him.

Stella: Then take him . . . take all of him.





“Miss Gibson?” Simone in the front raises her hand.

“Yes?”

“Uh, there’s ten minutes left before school gets out. Is Mr. Turner going to come in?”

I glance at the clock and try not to show my disappointment.

“I don’t know. But let’s concentrate on what we’re doing right now, okay?” I take a deep breath and move to the side of the classroom close to the windows. I’m about to ask another question when the door to the classroom bursts open. A gust of wind blows in and Arlo stands in the doorway, wearing a white cotton button-up, brown jeans, and an overcoat. The shirt is open, a fan blows behind him, impersonating wind, and he stands there, proud.

He slowly walks toward me, and in that Darcy-like voice he says, “I couldn’t teach . . .”

I love his twist on the storyline.

Getting into character, I say, “Me neither.”

The class quiets, and I catch them all leaning forward.

“My aunt—how do I ever apologize for his behavior?”

A few chuckles.

“For I’m in your debt,” I say. “For what you’ve done for . . . Chuckie, and my family . . . for my career. I must be the one who makes amends.”

Chin held high, his voice cracks when he says, “You must know. It was all for you.” He takes a pause and then says, “If your feelings are still what they were two weeks ago, tell me now. My affection for you has not changed.”

There’s a slight gasp in the air.

“But if they have changed, I must know, because I need to tell you this.” He pauses again, his words almost drowned out by the rapid beat of my heart. “You have bewitched me, body and soul,” he says, just like Mr. Darcy. “And I . . . I love you. I never wish to be apart from you . . . from this day on.”

Taking a deep breath, I stare him in the eyes, the moment heavy, intense, so palpable that I can feel the truth in his words, the meaning behind them.