The tarnished son, p.4
The Tarnished Son, page 4
She pushed away from her desk, swiveled slightly in her chair, and crossed her legs. Her black skirt slid up to reveal more of her toned thighs. Any man with a heartbeat would have appreciated the view, and I was no exception. I took a moment to savor the result of her workout routine before diverting my eyes to her face.
She pursed her full lips, tapped the pen she held against them, and then shook her head. “I can’t think of anything right now.”
“Awesome. But if something comes up, please don’t hesitate to find me. If I’m not in my office, check the halls. I like to wander.”
“Thank you…Hank.”
“Have a fantastic first day, Madison.” I left the room whistling.
Yep. It was great to be back.
{ 7 }
Liam
Tuesday, September 5
I tried to follow along as the new science teacher explained each section of the anatomy class syllabus in agonizing detail, but my mind kept replaying the diver carrying the old man out of the lake. I only got a break from binge-watching the accident when I took Nora’s sleeping pills, stolen from her bathroom cabinet. I told myself it was an “accident” that had nothing to do with my driving because if the opposite were true, then I killed a man. And I didn’t know how to live with that fact.
It was the first day of school, and Sawyer and I had the same class schedules. He had been glued to my side since the bell for period one rang. I couldn’t tell if he was my protection or if I was his. No one had dared to give us any grief about the drowning, but the vibes from my classmates ranged from curious to accusing.
We sat on stools next to each other at a table with two nerds. Neither of us cared about science, so we purposely chose lab partners brainier than us—a brilliant plan I came up with back in ninth grade.
Sawyer nudged my knee with his. When I looked at him, he fanned himself with his syllabus and mouthed, “She’s hot.”
I scanned the room, seeing only the same heavily made-up faces from last year. “Who?”
“Are you blind as well as dumb?” he asked with a lift of his chin toward our teacher.
I shrugged and pretended to pay attention to what Ms. Taylor was writing on the board about lab schedules.
Since Dad was the superintendent of the Williams Bay schools, he had filled us in on the new teachers at dinner one night. Ms. Taylor had graduated from the University of Wisconsin, and this was her first official teaching job. With her long, wavy hair and porno-perfect body, she was better than any other teacher we had ever had. But I was in too bad of a mood to play along with Sawyer.
When the bell rang to signal the end of class, everyone zipped up their backpacks to head to the cafeteria for lunch, the only part of the day I enjoyed.
“Liam?” Ms. Taylor called out as my classmates filed out the door. “Can I speak to you for a minute?”
Sawyer gave me an envious look and a high five. “I’ll save you a seat.”
It wasn’t necessary. Only the ninth graders wouldn’t know where the jocks sat, and we quickly put them in their place if they picked the wrong table.
Ms. Taylor stood by her desk, and after the last student left, she said, “I don’t bite, Liam.”
I slung my backpack over my shoulder and shuffled my feet a few inches forward, hoping my bored expression made me look indifferent toward her summons. But then I inhaled, and her musky scent ambushed me. She didn’t smell like the cheap floral perfumes the girls I dated bathed in, which burned my nose. Instead, whatever she wore hit me deep in the groin.
“I’ve been reviewing your transcript.” She held it out, and I pretended to be interested in the piece of paper responsible for my future. “And while you’ve never failed a class, you haven’t exactly exceeded expectations.”
My jaw jutted out in a silent protest, and my eyes focused on the nearest corner of the worn metal desk. No one had to tell me my grades sucked. Long ago, I had put away my hope of getting into UCLA, my dream college.
She slid my transcript into a folder. “I heard you reported a drowning this past weekend.” She slowly shook her head. “That must have been a terrible experience for you.”
The change in subject left me confused and a bit in awe of the only person so far with the guts to bring up the paddleboard accident to my face.
She moved closer and placed a hand on my upper arm. “As your teacher, I’m here to help. Let me know if you need extra time with assignments as you work through the aftermath of such a tragedy. Good mental health is more important than meeting deadlines. Also, in regards to your transcript, I’m available for tutoring sessions if needed.” She tightened her hold on my bicep, her colored lips forming what seemed like a genuine smile. “I want your senior year to be the best year you’ve ever had.”
My brain felt thick, her powerful scent and caring words overwhelming me. I stepped back, breaking her grasp, and gulped fresh air.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
She nodded, seemingly satisfied with my lame response, and took a seat behind her desk. Her hands gathered her hair and draped it over one shoulder before becoming all business and organizing the papers scattered about. Then she turned and held my gaze with her cat-like green eyes. “That will be all. Enjoy your lunch.”
***
Still dazed by my encounter with Ms. Taylor, I got a tray of food and joined the rest of the football team at our table on the far side of the lunchroom.
“What did our flaming hot new teacher want?” Sawyer asked, showing a semi-chewed bite of sandwich in his mouth as he talked.
“Nothing.” I focused on opening my milk carton and unwrapping my spork and knife, hoping my one-word answer would be sufficient.
“Uh-huh.”
So much for satisfying his curiosity. I’d known him forever, and his tone said he wouldn’t let it go. “Fine. She wanted to discuss my grades.”
Sawyer laughed, and I felt some satisfaction when he started to choke. When he could talk again, he said, “It’s day one of the school year. How bad could they be already?”
“She was looking at my transcript.”
His brow furrowed. “And?”
“If I need help, she’ll tutor me,” I snapped. “Now drop it.”
“Sorry I asked.” He shoved a handful of chips in his mouth, and one cheek bulged like a squirrel’s. “But I wish she would say that to me. I’d be all over that offer.”
A hand clamped my shoulder and pressed me deeper into my seat. “Run anyone over lately, Clark?”
I sprung up with fists ready and faced Chris, a six-foot-two lanky cornerback and the number three athlete in our school behind Sawyer and me. “What did you say?”
“Woah, someone sure is wound tight. What’s the matter? Afraid that, for once, your last name won’t get you out of trouble?”
Sawyer stood, shoving his chair into Chris’s body. “Oh, sorry, Douchebag. Didn’t see you there.”
Anyone watching would think my best friend had my back, but I knew better. He hated Chris and took every opportunity to show it, whether a brutal hit on the football field or an elbow to the face on the basketball court.
“Boys, settle down,” a deep voice boomed across the noisy lunchroom.
I slowly relaxed my fists and sat down. I may ignore Dad at home, but he ran the school and coached the football team. After being told a thousand times to respect both positions, I acted on autopilot.
He appeared by my side, and for the third time today, someone put their hand on me, which was ironic because we had been taught since pre-school to keep our hands to ourselves.
“First day of the term, and you guys are mixing it up already. What have I said about fighting?” Dad asked in his “I’m not only your coach but also your friend” voice.
“Save it for the other team,” the jocks at the table said in unison.
He grinned broadly. “Exactly. See you at practice. Three-thirty sharp.”
I picked at my lunch and thought about how Dad acted differently at school. Here, he walked the halls, cracking jokes and helping out whenever needed. Everyone loved him. But at home, he sneaked from room to room, avoiding Grandpa as much as possible.
Grandpa moved in at the beginning of the summer because of his hip replacement, and he seemed in no hurry to leave. When Nora asked Dad how long he was staying, he never gave her a straight answer. Maybe he was too scared to tell him to move out.
Sawyer gathered his backpack and tray. “I’ll see you in class.”
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“You told me to distract Isabel. She’s in the library right now. Alone.”
I had one minute to myself before the next challenge of the day arrived.
“Hi, Liam.” Tara slid into the chair opposite me. One finger twirled a piece of her long brown hair while her eyes begged me to notice her.
“Hey.” Given my current state of mind, it was the best I could do. We weren’t dating, but occasionally we hooked up. She was in Rose’s class, so come this Saturday, when I turned eighteen, I would have to cut her loose. She definitely wasn’t worth the risk.
She babbled on about her classes, who was in them, and an upcoming volleyball tournament that her team would probably lose. I nodded whenever she stopped to breathe but kept my head down, concentrating on my food.
Then, she whispered, “I heard about what happened.”
I grunted and shoved a soggy tater tot in my mouth.
“It must have been awful to watch.” When I didn’t say anything, she put a hand over mine. “I’ve been defending you all day. And maybe you should ask your dad to make some kind of announcement about the rumors going around. People are saying some wild stuff about you.”
“Like what?” I asked louder and harsher than I had intended. A table full of juniors turned toward us, and I held up my middle finger until they started eating again.
Tara stopped twirling her hair and scooted back in her chair, putting distance between us. “I don’t know. Someone said you were swimming and pushed the guy off his board. Someone else said you swamped his board with your boat. Basically, they’re saying it’s your fault he died.”
“That’s bullshit,” I hissed, and she flinched at the anger in my voice. “We saw a guy fall into the water as we passed him and reported it. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
The bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period, and she seemed relieved. “I know you didn’t. I believe you. Meet me at my locker after school?”
“Sure.” I probably wouldn’t, but lying was easier than the drama that usually followed the truth. She blew me a kiss before catching up with her pack of girlfriends on the other side of the cafeteria.
I scanned the faces of my classmates. Fricking losers couldn’t mind their own business. I picked up my tray and dumped what I hadn’t eaten into the nearest garbage can.
{ 8 }
Rose
Tuesday, September 5
My anxiety surged as I stood at my locker in the near-empty hallway, switching the books in my backpack with those I needed for the afternoon. I wouldn’t have been in danger of being late if Hank hadn’t cornered me. Mom probably told him to do it as if today were my first day of pre-school, not my sophomore year.
After triple-checking everything, I made it to English class as the fourth-period bell rang.
Mrs. Morales smiled at me as she closed the door. “Great to see you, Rose. How was your summer?”
“OK, thanks.” I scanned the room, taking in the fifteen other students, all familiar faces.
From the far corner, Zoe waved and pointed to a desk next to her. I slid into it and took my time pulling out a notebook and pen so I wouldn’t have to engage in small talk. But Zoe had gossip she wanted to share.
While our English teacher gave her first-day spiel and passed out syllabuses, Zoe leaned over and whispered breathlessly, “Isabel thinks Sawyer likes her.”
Her gleeful expression made it obvious she thought this was good news, but I didn’t.
“Why?” I asked, though I already knew I wouldn’t like the answer. Sawyer practically lived at our house. I wouldn’t wish him on my worst enemy.
“He sent her a dick pic.” She covered her mouth to muffle her giggle.
Mrs. Morales stopped her prepared speech mid-sentence. “Do you have a question, Zoe?”
She picked up the syllabus on her desk and pretended to read it. “No. I’m good.”
Mrs. Morales sighed, flicked her wrist to check her watch, and continued her lecture. When she turned to point at a list of books written on the whiteboard, Zoe mouthed to me, “I’ll tell you more later.”
I forced a smile and nodded.
For the rest of the period, time dragged, the forty-five minutes seeming like a hundred. I alternated between listening to Mrs. Morales and worrying about Isabel with Sawyer.
After class, Zoe waited in the hallway until no one was in earshot before resuming her gossip. “She showed me the pic this morning when I got to school, and I literally freaked out.”
“I think it’s a bizarre way to show you’re interested in someone.” A terrible thought occurred to me as we started walking, and I stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall. “Wait. Isabel didn’t send a pic back, did she?”
“She might have.” Zoe’s tone was casual as she dug into the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out some gum.
“No,” I wailed. “Why would she do that?”
“Because she wants him to like her. Duh.” She offered me a piece of gum, then shoved two in her mouth and chewed like a cow. She’d have to spit them out before her next class, as most of our teachers outlawed anything enjoyable.
“What if he shows it to other guys? Everyone is going to be talking about her.”
“It’s just a body part,” she said defensively. “It’s not that big of a deal, Rose. Have you ever gone to an art museum? There are boobs all over the place—and dicks.”
“If it’s not a big deal, why did Liam spend a week begging my stepfather not to suspend Sawyer from baseball last spring? They didn’t name the girl, but he got caught sending her pics from the team bus after a game.”
Zoe made a face. “Eww. I always thought they took them in their bedroom. I wonder who the girl was. I bet it was Rachel.”
“You’re missing the point. Sawyer and Isabel could get into a lot of trouble if any adults find out.”
“Who would tell?” She put a hand to her heart. “I’m not going to.”
We reached the library where I planned to spend the free period I had next. “Please ask Isabel not to do it again. Sawyer’s not as great as you both think he is.”
“Are you serious? The guy’s a hottie. Not quite on the same level as Liam, but no one in this school is.”
“Please?” I tried to sound as if it was a life-or-death matter. “Promise me?”
Zoe rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll talk to her.”
I blew out a relieved breath. “Thanks.”
“Hey, could I come over tonight for some help with our geometry homework? I didn’t totally understand the example Bailey put on the board.”
I hesitated, wondering if she wanted to see Liam and not me. Still, if I agreed, Mom might leave me alone for a while. “Of course, seven o’clock?”
“Perfect.” The bell rang, and Zoe swore. “Late again! See you tonight.”
Anxious thoughts controlled my head for the next hour. Instead of doing my reading assignment for English class, I debated whether to talk to Liam about Isabel and Sawyer. After all of Liam’s pathetic pleading last spring, Hank agreed not to punish Sawyer if he swore never to send nude pics again. I was sure Liam would want to know that Sawyer hadn’t learned the proper use of his phone. He might even agree his friend shouldn’t be pursuing Isabel. But conversing with Liam was unpleasant at best. Even in a good mood, he was mean to me, and he’d been in a bad one since Saturday.
Then, my anxiety switched topics, and I agonized over a realization that had been festering in my mind since Saturday. If I hadn’t given in to Mom by asking Zoe and Isabel to go boating, Liam and Sawyer might have found something else to do, and the old man would still be alive. From the comments left on his obituary page, some people thought Liam was at fault, but maybe I was also to blame. For once, I should have stood up for myself and done what I wanted to do instead of being a people-pleaser.
Tears wet my lashes, and a sob escaped my throat before I could clamp down on my emotions. The guy napping on his books a few tables away lifted his head with a questioning look in my direction. Realizing it was Chris—Liam and Sawyer’s sworn archenemy but also a longtime crush of mine—my face turned volcanic red.
I swept up my stuff, fled into the hall, and smacked into Tara, my class’s queen bee and Liam’s friend with benefits. Reacting to my presence in her personal space, she shoved me into the nearest row of lockers. Books and papers flew from my arms and landed at my feet.
“Watch where you’re going, freak.” As she continued walking, she veered enough to land an expensive leather boot on my copy of Lord of the Flies.
Tara lived to make the girls in our school miserable. And because of my relationship with Hank, I was one of her favorite targets, especially in gym class. She knew I wouldn’t blab to him, so it increased her power in the eyes of her followers.
For probably the hundredth time, I considered asking Mom about homeschooling, but it would be a waste of breath. She loved her time in high school and would never understand why I didn’t belong in mine.
{ 9 }
Hank
Tuesday, September 5
Dad’s car was in the driveway, which was strange as he usually spent his day at Village Hall.
“Hello?” I called out, moving into the foyer.
A cough came from the living room, where I found him sprawled on the couch, one arm covering his face. Nora’s designer pillows littered the floor, and the drawn curtains semi-darkened the normally bright room.
