Eighteen (18)(6)

“I mean,” he continues, “it’s not easy. So how was it different?”

“I liked it, I guess. And biology made sense. Math does not make sense.”

“Well, that’s why you’re here with me, Shannon.” He doesn’t say my name. He growls it. “So maybe you just never had the right teacher.”

And then his legs stretch out under the table and rub up against mine.

I have my feet pulled all the way under my chair, so even if I wanted to escape his touch, I can’t. So I just sit there, imagining his biker boots as they press up against my Chucks, and pretend it’s not happening.

I take a deep breath and exhale. He either takes the hint that I’m overwhelmed, or he didn’t even notice in the first place. But either way, he pulls his legs back and the excitement I felt recedes.

“OK, well, you’re stuck here. Bowman made it very clear that you need this class to graduate and we’ve got a lot to cover in one semester. In fact, you should not expect to graduate in the spring. You’ll probably get your diploma at the end of the summer.”

“What?” Oh, my God. For real, I’m gonna cry now.

“Well,” he says, leaning back and placing his hands behind his neck again, “you said you’re not motivated so I’m going to assume you’re not lying about that. You’ll be super lazy and you won’t do the work.”

I look down and wring my hands in my lap. I wish I could go back one year and decide never to go to California with Jill. I should’ve just stayed where I was. Maybe asked one of my friends if their parents would let me hang out for a year and a half until graduation. I could’ve worked at Jackie’s dad’s Harley shop. Or done secretary work for Ronnie’s boss at the welding shop. Jesus, in what world is f*ck-up Ronnie my saving grace?

This one, Shannon. It’s funny how people you thought were total losers turn out to be stable and good when you see the real world through the eyes of a castaway teenager for nine months.

“Are you going to do the work, Shannon?”

I can’t even meet his gaze. I just stare at my wringing hands. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice. You can choose to be anything you want. Lazy is easy. Skate, you said this morning. You’ve been skating through life for a while now, haven’t you? You’re so smart you don’t have to study unless you want to. You can get an A on the final and pass the class, so why apply yourself?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” But I can feel the sting of tears in my eyes and the lump in my throat. I’m really going to cry.

His legs stretch out again, and that feeling from his touch is back. “I know exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve been you, Shannon.”

I look up just as the tears stream down my face. “No one has been me, Mr. Alesci.” I growl his name the same way he did mine and it makes him smile. That just pisses me off more. “You have no idea who I am and what I’ve been through.”

“You don’t know me either.”

“Well, I know who you’re not. You’re not Shannon Drake. And I don’t give a flying f*ck what that file says. That file isn’t Shannon Drake either.”

“Noted,” he says, ignoring my tears. “If you want to do the work and graduate on time, we meet every day for the rest of the semester.”

“I can’t,” I say, and then I really do start crying. I’m talking sobs. Everything that’s happened to me today—hell, the past nine months—comes pouring out in front of this man who has no right to be asking me these things.

“Why can’t you?” he asks, his voice gentler. Softer. “You’re smart. I can tell.” He reaches for a handkerchief in his suit coat pocket and hands it to me.

I take it and start wiping my face.

“Why can’t you, Shannon?”

I suddenly want to tell him everything. All the bullshit that’s happened to me. But once I let it out, it will never go back in. And I’m not ready for that. I’ll die if that happens.

“Bowman mentioned something about not having a ride. Do you need a ride?”

I picture Bowman driving me to Gilbert every day. All the pressing questions, all the explanations he’ll be probing me for. All the privacy he’ll be invading. “No, that’s not it. I have a ride.”

“Then what?” Alesci asks.

I sniff and get myself together. “Never mind,” I say, standing up and grabbing my backpack. “I’ll be here every day.”

I walk out. No, really, I run out. I run right past the front desk and burst through the doors like something is chasing me and if I stop, I will die.





Chapter Four




It’s raining pretty good when I get outside and I’m grateful for it. No one can see my tears as I walk across the parking lot and head down the street towards Lincoln. There’s a bus stop there at the corner. And even though I lied to Bowman this morning about not having money, I have two dollars.

Jason, my brother-in-law, leaves me five dollars a day to eat and I still have two left over from lunch. He never buys groceries, just formula for little Olivia. She’s a good baby, I think. I don’t have any experience with babies, but she sleeps a lot. Any time someone asks about her, that’s the one thing Jason says. She’s a good sleeper.