Hot For Teacher (57 page)

The bell rings as I sit my backpack on the gray tiled floor and ease into my seat. I reach inside and take out a notebook and pen. Ms. Tillman doesn’t allow us to use laptops or electronic devices in class, so we write our notes by hand. She often complains about the lost art of penmanship. Some of the kids grumbled when she announced her class rules¸ but I think they just want to use the devices to email or text their friends.

I watch Ms. Tillman write on the blackboard as I stretch out my legs and settle into my chair. Her long blond ponytail sways across her back as she posts our next assignment in dusty white chalk.

I can’t keep my eyes from travelling down and landing on her ass. Its slight wiggle as she writes makes my mind wander and wonder what lies beneath her dress.

Can anyone guess what I’m thinking?

I glance around me and notice all the boys with their mouths open in shock and awe. I should feel relieved but I don’t. Now I wonder if they’re thinking what I am.

She returns the chalk to the metal tray and turns to face the class. I become still in my chair and hold my breath as she scans over the students. I may be fooling myself, but I swear her eyes light up when her glance stops and meets mine. I smile at her and she returns it with a gentle grin then begins the class.

Out of nowhere, the bell rings to dismiss us from class. I shake my head from its fog. I have no idea what Ms. Tillman or my classmates discussed today, because my mind was lost and scattered. The same thing happens everyday. When she stands before the class and speaks, I’m led into a bizarre trance where my brain shifts into dark and dirty desires.

I scribble the assignment due tomorrow down on my notebook and throw it into my backpack hoping I can understand what the hell I have to do later tonight when I’m back home.

I’m the last student remaining in my seat since everyone bolted for the door the second they heard the bell. I make my way past her desk with my head held down. I can’t look at the desk or her after what I’d imagined doing to her during the last hour.

“Wait, Daniel.” Ms. Tillman calls to me as I approach the door. “Do you have a second? I’ll write you a pass if you’re late to the next class.”

Oh, shit. My needed escape doesn’t look likely.  “Sure,” I respond while shuffling toward her desk. I don’t want to get too close because I will become tongue-tied if I smell her perfume.

“Mr. Dorsey spoke to me yesterday about your grade in my class. He wants me to tutor you a couple times a week. You did great in English last year, so I’m surprised you’re having trouble. I hope it’s not me.”

Hell, what can I say to that? Yes, it is you! You’re my complete fantasy. My ideal of the perfect woman. I don’t think that would go over very good.

“I need to concentrate more in class. My mind has been somewhere else.” I don’t tell the whole truth just enough of the truth to give a reason for my shitty performance in class.

“It’s senior year and you have a lot of pressure resting on your shoulders. You’re right in the middle of football season and need to select a choice for college. All of this has to be weighing heavy on you.”

“I guess so.” I shift my weight and stare at my feet wishing I had more to say to her, but my mouth won’t cooperate.

“Are you okay with tutoring a couple nights a week?” Ms. Tillman asks as a whiff of her sweet scent hits me. I’m afraid to look up and eye her this close, but I can’t stop myself and raise my head. “Mr. Dorsey is going to speak to your parents about it. I know you can bring up your grade.”

She moves closer to stand by the side of the desk and a sweat breaks out on the palm of my hands. I want to wipe them over my dark jeans but it would reveal how she’s my weakness.

I take a couple deep breaths in hope that my body doesn’t start giving me away while I look into her blue eyes. I’ve never seen a color like them before. They’re the lightest of light blue. Her soft, pale skin and blond hair make her seem breakable. She’s a complete contrast to me.

While diving into the deep blue, a miracle occurs and I remember she asked me a question.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine with the tutoring.” I lie because the thought of being alone with her two nights a week freaks me out. If my parents knew how wild I am about her, they’d never allow me to spend one second with her alone. Hell they’d likely get me transferred out of her class.

“Great.” Ms. Tillman’s face lights up like the sun all bright and warm. I never knew someone could be so beautiful. “Why don’t we start tomorrow night? It will be a light session since the homecoming game is the next day. Can you meet me back here in the classroom at five?”

“Sure. What do I need to bring?” She bites her lip as she thinks about my question, and I grab my backpack tighter.

“Just bring yourself. I have an idea of what we can work on and I think you’re really going to like it.”

A smile twinkles in her eyes and I know I’m in trouble because I can’t wait until tomorrow night for my first session with her. She bends over the desk to write me a pass and I gaze down her shirt to see two white and delicate curves meeting in the middle.

I swallow hard when she stands up to hand me the pass.

“Just come prepared to tell me about your favorite football hero.” She nods her head and smiles. “The man who most inspires you.”

I reach for the pass and touch the slight warmth of her skin. “Thanks,” I manage to say, and head out the door to class. I hope I can put two words together when we meet tomorrow night.

When Daniel exited the classroom yesterday, my mind began to plot out today’s tutoring lesson. I want to encourage him to write about a passion in his life, and I am thinking his love for football might carry over to his writing.

I saw his eyes widen after I gave him the instructions, so maybe an idol came to mind. We can progress to more complicated avenues later. My main focus is getting his pencil moving across his paper.

Something needs to get a spark going in him, because day after day, he leans back in his chair with his long legs stretched in front of him. Then he stares the entire hour at me with a vacant faraway look, as if he can see right through me. I’ve wanted to snap my fingers to pull him from his trance but I hated to embarrass him. He seems like such a sweet guy.

There are moments, I glance at him and wish I could meet his gaze and try to connect, but I can’t forget about the class full of onlookers. They might read something more into our interactions. Maybe it’s my own guilty fears, because I can’t deny finding him insanely attractive.

The boys here at Monroe when I was in school didn’t have his mature movie star looks.

This morning I shuffled through the notes from Ms. Brown, his English teacher last year. I find glowing remarks on his performance. She listed his average in her class as a B+, and even commended Daniel on class participation.

The entire summary of his actions from last year had me searching over the papers to confirm if it was really Daniel’s and not a mix-up. When I saw his name mentioned in the closing comments, I knew there was no mistake. So I asked her to meet me in the teacher’s lounge during sixth period since both of us have a break from teaching at that time.

I’m heading to the lounge after the bell rang and I dismissed my class. I arrive before Ms. Brown, and need my usual afternoon pick-me-up. I walk over to the coffeemaker and pour the dark remains into a Styrofoam cup. After adding sugar, I find the table by the window empty. It’s away from the main conversation area, and the lounge’s hideaway where teachers grade papers and spread out their work.

I spin my coffee stirrer in the cup and watch the black coffee’s controlled swirl. It reminds me of Daniel’s commanding presence on the football field smooth and almost liquid. He owns the field and everyone watching him knows they’re observing greatness. It’s such a contrast to the beautiful and quiet young man in my class who keeps to himself.

“Ms. Tillman?” I look up to see Ms. Brown gazing down at me with her head tilted to the side. “I’ve been trying to get your attention. Your mind seemed somewhere over Georgia.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, and please call me, Staci. I was just thinking and definitely needing this.” I hold my cup up and take a sip while Ms. Brown sits across from me. I wonder how long she’s been trying to talk to me.

“I’m Beth,” she says. “And I understand. We have to be here so early. If you’re up before the donuts shops, than something’s wrong.” She added with a laugh.

“You’re the swim coach for the girls right?” I remember seeing her with wet hair one morning and she said the girls threw her in the pool as a birthday prank.

“Yes, that’s the reason I get up so early. The pool is open for us at five-thirty.” She sat her folder down and opened it up.

“I’m lucky that the cheerleaders practice afterschool. I don’t think we would have anyone trying out if we had practice anytime before the first bell rang.” Ms. Brown shook her head knowing it was the truth. “I have a hard enough time getting them focused as it is now.”

I took another sip of coffee before we got down to the business of discussing Daniel. I glanced at the clock and realized we didn’t have too much time before the next period started.

“You were a cheerleader here too right?  Heard you were All-state and there’s a banner with your name hanging in the gym.

“That’d be me.” I want to move the conversation along to avoid being labeled as a former student, especially when I can still pass as one now. “So let’s talk about Daniel. What can you tell me about him? He’s having a difficult time in my class and I’m starting some private tutoring to help him after school today.”

“I have to be honest. I’m shocked he’s having trouble. He did fabulous in English Composition last year. One of my brighter students. Most of my assignments were fact driven not creative like your class,” she says. “He has quite the vocabulary. He must be a secret reader.”

There it is in a nutshell. He is not the same in my class. But why?

“Do you know much about his personal life? I hate to ask but I’m at a loss at what’s happening with him.” I don’t share the rumors I overheard from the cheerleaders. Daniel stands as a conquest to them. A brooding young man that needs their kind of fucking.

“He’s had some tragedies in his family.” Beth lowers her head and leans closer to me over the table before continuing. “It’s not discussed much since his family moved to this area of town for a fresh start. Do you remember a few years ago when a young man kidnapped his girlfriend after she broke up with him? It was all over the news. In Fair Haven I think.”

“I remember. I think I was a senior in high school at the time. He held her hostage and shot himself right after the police arrived?” Fair Haven is the town over from Tuscaloosa. I worried where this story was going. A knot starts to from in my stomach, as I fear the worst. Maybe it was his sister.

“That’s the one.” Beth’s shoulders move in a fast shudder. “The young man was Daniel’s brother.”

Her words hit me hard, stunning me. “You’re kidding?”

“I wish I was. Daniel’s family and life hasn’t been the same as you can imagine. What a tragedy. His parents don’t allow him out of the house except for football and school. He’s on lockdown. He’s twenty years old. Did you know that?” Beth shakes her head and I sit there speechless.

“Twenty?” It makes sense that he’s older. He has a different command of himself compared to the others in his class. Not to mentioned he looks like he should already be in college.

“His family kept him home for two years after the tragedy. Daniel was supposed to be in middle school, but they moved and he was lost in the shuffle I guess. Finally someone from protective services gave them notice to enroll him back in school or else.”

I can’t even imagine what Daniel has gone through over the last few years. The loss of a brother, the shame of living with what his brother did to the poor girl, and being isolated from the world he walks in. I’m convinced the sensitive young man I see in class each day carries scars hidden way down deep.