Jaded (Jaded #1)(26)

And me? I headed inside and actually went to the rest of my classes. I even disappeared to my art room during lunch. I wasn’t eager for a replay with Chad Yerling and the rest. I didn’t even want to banter with Corrigan.

Mr. Sayword glanced at me questioningly, but he didn’t say anything. When I was in the developing room later, a brisk knock sounded and I called out, “Yeah?”

Mr. Sayword called through, “Can I come in?”

I flipped the switch and the door opened. He closed it behind him and flipped the switch back.

I waited. He’d never come in before.

“Uh huh.” Mr. Sayword cleared his throat and shuffled on his feet. My art teacher was nervous. He tucked his longish sandy-colored hair behind his ears and straightened the wire-rim glasses over his nose bridge. His buttoned-down shirt was a little rumpled, but his pants were still nicely pleated.

“Yes?”

I asked.

“Uh…Miss Connors called me into her office for a consultation.”

“What?” I asked sharply.

“She has heard about our unique teacher-student bond.”

What bond? I respected the guy. That was a bond?

I remained silent.

“Yes, she—uh—she wanted to ask my opinion on your state of well-being.”

“What’d you say?”

He blinked, his eyes were magnified behind the glasses, but he gazed in stupefaction to me. He stared another moment and I noticed that his eyelashes were rich and plump. I was jealous. I wish I had those eyelashes.

“I said…well, to be quite honest, I told her that I had always thought you were a magnificent student. You’ve always been on time. A hard worker. You’ve never talked back to me or bullied another student. Your projects are always done wondrously with a touch of genius.”

What the hell? I blinked.

“Miss Connors was…she was, well…she was—she seemed a bit taken aback by my opinion and thought perhaps we have an unusual bond.”

My smile was barely constrained when I guessed, “She thinks we’re sleeping

together?”

He coughed and pounded his chest. He needed to turn away and cough some deep wrenching hacks before he was composed. When he turned back, he gulped and looked at me.

I held firm and stared him down. That’s when I saw the truth.

The one teacher that earned my respect is the one rumored to be my lover. Poetic, really.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Well,” he began, “I really just wanted to make you aware of the situation. Miss Connors seemed to have quite a list of concerns about you.”

“Do I quit the class?”

To this, I saw my first glimpse of anger in my normally-composed teacher.

“No.” He said it short, simple, and final.

I grinned despite the situation and replied, ruefully, “I’m guessing Miss Connors doesn’t know about those balls.”

He frowned, but replied, “Well, Miss Jeneve, now that you have been apprised of the situation, I will leave you to your work.” He nodded and I saw some amusement that tickled the corner of his mouth.

I finished a drawing for the rest of sixth period and headed to the cafeteria for study hall.

Chet moved down and I took his seat. The rest of the group all moved, grumbled, saw it was for me and shut up. I hid a smile at their expense. Bryce dropped his history books on the table across from me and sat beside Becky Lew.

No one reacted, but—like always—they watched me for the reaction.

I disappointed them all and focused on my homework. I finished my calculus and got up to buy a pop. When I returned to the table, Bryce was back at his seat across from mine. Becky Lew and her friends had moved to the open section of the cafeteria. They were painting signs for the soccer and basketball team. The rest of the cheerleaders had moved into the cafeteria so it must’ve been a planned event.

I ignored Bryce and started my history homework until the final bell rang. Bryce walked beside me towards my locker and asked, “What are you doing after school?”

I ignored him, but then he tapped my arm and leaned closer when we arrived at my locker. His arm draped across the top of the locker and he effectively entrapped me against the locker.

“What are you doing now?”

I shook my head and slipped out from underneath.

“Sheldon,” he called out.

“I’ll see you later,” I called over my shoulder and disappeared around the corner.

The counselor’s office was vacated, but the back office doors were still open. I walked to Miss Connors, knowing from prior trips where her office was located and watched her shuffle papers around her desk. She gripped a pencil in her teeth and frowned at her computer screen. The day must’ve been long for her because there were sweat marks down the back of her silk blouse and her skirt was rumpled where she would sit on it.

She sighed in frustration to herself and wrote a note on a pad near the phone.

I cleared my throat.

As Miss Connors whirled in her chair to see me, I said tightly, “So I hear that you think I’m sleeping with a teacher?”

“Sheldon,” she murmured, reproachfully.

I walked in, shut the door, and took a seat in the lounger besides her desk.

“It’s out of line and I’m a bit disappointed in how unoriginal you are,” I said firmly and leaned back.