Misconduct(95)

Four times.

I’d pushed my car locks eight times, and I’d counted my steps into the school.

And then I’d sat down at my desk and laid my head in my arms, crying my eyes out before first period, because I didn’t want to be scared anymore.

I didn’t want to be like this.

I wanted to be how I was with him.

Not that Tyler could save me, but I’d been happy.

I was in love with him.

But I refused to miss him.

Tyler couldn’t make me feel better anymore, and I wouldn’t let him fix me.

So I dried my eyes and decided no more. I didn’t know who had been in my apartment, but I would be the one to deal with it. I’d called the police and reported it, deciding that I wouldn’t try to handle it quietly like my parents had. Instead, I’d be proactive and not sit and wait for anything.

I pounded the pavement, sweat running down my back as I completed my eighth lap and kept going. Shaman’s Harvest’s “Dangerous” charged my muscles, giving me the energy that my mood had depleted, and I started to feel more like myself for the first time in a long time.

It was a little chilly today, but I wasn’t feeling it, despite the white workout tank and black shorts I wore.

I stuffed my earbud back in my ear, as it had started to fall out, but then something slapped me on the ass, and I jerked to a halt, yanking both earbuds out.

“Hey.” Kristen jogged in place next to me. “You actually do this for fun?”

She smiled sweetly, looking a little comical, because she was losing her breath but trying to hide it.

I shook my head at her and continued jogging, not caring if she kept up. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” she breathed out. “I always see you run out of school at the end of the day in your workout clothes to go jog, and I think to myself… I could do that,” she mused.

I couldn’t help it. I snorted, my chest shaking.

“Made you laugh.” She gloated. “You haven’t been smiling the past few days – actually the past week – so I consider that my special skill.”

“What?” I grumbled, trying to sound annoyed.

“Making you crack a smile,” she pointed out. “I’m sure not everyone can do it. I might be like your hetero soul mate. Your other half.”

I rolled my eyes, the breeze flying under the canopy of trees cooling my skin.

“I’m fine,” I stated. “The honeymoon is over, is all. Teaching finally got hard.”

“Amen, sister,” she shot back. “But if I had your technique in the classroom, I’m sure I’d be very happy with my class. At least you’re not dealing with behavioral issues up the butt.”

No. I wasn’t. And what I’d told her hadn’t been the truth. Teaching was always hard, but that wasn’t the reason for my mood.

I just didn’t feel like telling her about everything.

Despite what had happened at the club, I liked her. It wasn’t her fault, after all, and with the way she’d handled herself at school afterward, and her discretion, I’d grown to trust her.

And she seemed to like me, though I had no idea why.

“I heard Shaw asked you to conduct a lesson for the teachers at Staff Development on engagement techniques,” she continued.

I nodded, draping my earbud cord around my neck. “I said no.”

“Why?”

“Because I think it would rub other teachers the wrong way for someone as inexperienced as me to tell them how to do their jobs,” I explained.

“Screw ’em.” She waved her hand at me. “Just like the students, the teachers have to be willing to change in order to succeed.” And out of the corner of my eye I saw her lean in, playing with me. “And you’re so capable, I think you could get them to want to.”

What did she know? Teachers usually hung on to their jobs for a lifetime, and they became creatures of habit. The idea that I could swoop in and tell them – people who had years of experience – how to improve was presumptuous.

Why would she care what I did?

I regarded her with a sideways glance. “Why are you so nice to me?”

She twisted her lips. “Skeptical much?”

“No,” I answered. “I mean, I haven’t really let you see anything about me to like.”

She giggled. “Not true. You’re a wonderful dancer. You do great things with your hands.”

I knocked her on the arm, letting out a snicker as I slowed to a walk and headed for the grass.

She smiled wide, following me. “I like you,” she panted, out of breath. “You do your job as if procedures weren’t already in place. You’re inventive. You do what you want, how you want.”

I dropped to my ass and pointed to my feet for her to hold as I crossed my arms over my chest and immediately started curling into sit-ups.

“People respect that,” she told me, kneeling down to hold my feet with her hands. “I respect that.”

I shot up, keeping my abs tight as I leaned back and curled up again.

Why shouldn’t she be my friend? I didn’t have many.

Or any, really.

And it had been a long time since I’d had one.

She was messy, and I could tell she enjoyed disorder. Everything I was against.