Eighteen (18)(31)

“I shouldn’t have to take this stupid class in the first place. Why should I care if I get nothing out of it? It’s a waste of time and I’m being forced to give up my afternoons to placate some idiot board member who made that stupid rule about when kids are allowed to take science and math credits.”

The whole class is looking at me.

“Forget it,” I say, walking back to my desk. I grab my stuff and head out of the class, but the teacher follows me. I try to escape to the bathroom, but he grabs my arm.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“Why would something be wrong? I just completed half a semester’s worth of work in a week. How is that leading you to believe something is wrong?”

Just then Mateo walks around the corner. He narrows his eyes as he approaches. “Everything OK here?” he asks.

“I was just trying to figure that out myself,” science teacher says. “She’s having a bad day, I think. I didn’t mean to upset you, Shannon. I’m happy you’re getting your work done quickly. And I’m sorry you got caught in the red tape.” He shrugs, looks at Mateo like he can take over, and then walks back to his classroom.

I escape into the bathroom and lock myself in a stall so I can smoke. No one gives a f*ck if I smoke in here. There are no teachers patrolling hallways. If that science teacher’s expectations are low, the office staff’s expectations are nonexistent.

This might be the most shocking thing about school here in Anaheim.

No one gives a f*ck.

No one gives a f*ck about the kids, no one gives a f*ck about the curriculum, no one gives a f*ck about the rules. Oh, unless the rules are seniors with seven extra credits have to take an entire year of math and science over again for no reason. Suddenly everyone gives a f*ck about that rule.

Back in Ohio everyone gave a f*ck.

I’m not judging too harshly, either. I’m not overreacting. I’ve been to three high schools in California since I got here a year ago, and each one has some non-f*ck-giving staff trying to make me give a f*ck.

Why should I give a f*ck?

I think I’ll just continue to say f*ck in my thoughts all day long. Maybe that will make me give a f*ck?

“You’re stupid, Shannon,” I whisper to myself as I smoke. But it makes me smile. I check my phone and I’m already late for trig. It’s five-twenty. Maybe Mateo went home?

God, I hope he went home. I don’t know why I’m so pissed off, but I am. I’m pissed about everything. The credits thing, the night school shit, the teacher calling me on my temper tantrum, Mateo and his weirdness.

And Danny.

I’m pissed about Danny, I realize. Because I like him. And that story Mary told about him coming to her rescue as a little kid, well, it clinched it for me. He’s not as bad as he looks. I felt it immediately when I met his eyes in the counselors office on Monday. He was sympathetic to my plight.

He gave a f*ck.

So why does Mateo’s warning unsettle me so much?

There’s a knock at the door but I say nothing, just lean against the yellow cinderblock wall, smoking my cigarette.

“Shannon?” Mateo asks from the door. “I can smell the cigarette in the hallway, I know you’re in here.”

“I need the night off.”

“Why?”

“I’m not in the mood for your shit or your head games. I worked ahead anyway. I’ve gotten five chapters outlined already.”

“Trying to get it all done so you don’t have to come here anymore?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t think it will be as easy to breeze through trig like you did science.”

I blow out smoke rings as my response. “You’re a f*cking genius.”

“Why are you so pissed off?”

“Why?” I huff out some air. “Just go away, Mateo. I’m not coming to class today.”

A second later the door closes with a soft whoosh.

Well, mission accomplished. I wait in there, smoking my brains out, until the whole building goes silent. And thank God, when I finally decide to leave, the hallways are empty.

This has been the longest week of my life and it’s not even Friday. I push through the front doors and a weight lifts off me. Mateo is stressing me out. That’s why I’m mad. Mateo and his rules. Mateo and his weirdness. Mateo and his f*cking dick.

God.

I have a problem. A really big problem. And it’s not Mateo. My problem is me.





Jason is drunk when I get home. “Nice,” I sneer at him. Olivia is awake, but Jason has a bottle of formula propped up on a blanket and she’s slurping quietly in her swing. “I guess you won’t be needing my services for much longer. Not after you get fired for showing up drunk tonight.”

He drags his glazed eyes from the TV and stares at me in the chair to his right. “Be careful, kid. If you start nagging me like a wife, I’ll start expecting more than just babysitting.”

“You try it, I’ll cut your dick off when you’re sleeping.”

“Tough girl, huh?” he says back, taking another swig of beer.

“People underestimate me all the time, Jason. You have no idea who I am. So feel free to join the rest of the world. You’ll see what happens if you ever lay another hand on me.”