Thirst (6 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

IT’S LATE

It did not surprise him, but it did not fail to frustrate him. Wade Fenner tapped his foot anxiously as he sat at the front of the classroom, waiting for his students to show up—nearly all of who were late.

Andrew was the only student who showed up on time. He was actually thirty minutes early, which was just as annoying for Wade, because it meant making awkward small talk while he waited for the rest of the class to show up—and Wade hated small talk more than anything else in the world.

It was no secret that Wade was not the best conversationalist. All he wanted to do was teach kids, mark tests and go home to his family—he was not the best when it came to relating to the younger generation.

“Thanks for being early, Andrew,” Wade said with his deep, commanding tone.

“It’s my pleasure,” Andrew replied.

There was a long awkward pause while Wade stared anxiously at the clock—which had already struck class time. 

Wade took a breath and looked around the room. “Did you see the game last night?” Wade asked.

“Which one?”

“The Leafs-Wings game.”

“That’s hockey?”

Wade groaned. “Yeah. It’s hockey.”

“Sorry—no. I’ve never really gotten into hockey.”

There was yet another long awkward silence.

“Then what are you into?” Wade asked.

“Me?” Andrew asked.

Wade looked around the empty room. “Yes, Andrew. You.” Wade meant well—he was just painfully introverted.

“Um,” Andrew thought. “I like to travel,” he said.

“Is that why you’re taking English?”

Andrew laughed. “To travel?” he asked. “No.”

“Why is that funny?” Wade asked. If you did not know Wade, it was easy to think he was a brooding, grumpy man. People generally found him intimidating and uninviting.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” Andrew awkwardly apologized.

“No—I’m serious. Why is that funny?” Wade just genuinely wanted to know what was so funny.

“I don’t know—It’s just—Why would I take English so I can travel? I already know English. You’d think I would take something like German or Spanish—Languages that are useful to know when you travel.”

“Oh,” Wade said. “I thought that maybe you were trying to get into travel writing.”

Andrew laughed. “I’ve never been into blogs.”

“What’s a blog?” Wade asked.

Andrew laughed for a moment, and then noticed Wade’s unimpressed expression. He stopped. “It’s like a website where you keep an online journal.”

“That sounds stupid,” Wade said.

Andrew laughed.

“I meant travel writing for travel magazines, and guide books. It’s very lucrative right now, and they only hire people who have been everywhere, so that they can draw comparisons. One of my cousins writes for Lonely Planet. He makes a load of money, and they pay him to go everywhere in the world. He’s in Lebanon now.”

“That’s a thing?” Andrew asked.

“Yeah. They need to update all of those books every year so that they’re current. There are one hundred different publishers, and dozens of different countries…”

“One hundred and ninety five,” Andrew stated.

“Right—I’m no math guy, but that’s a lot of books every year.”

“One thousand, nine hundred and fifty.”

“There you go…” Wade said.

As Andrew stewed over the recent revelation, Wade looked back up at the clock.

“Well,” Wade said. “Should we just start?”

Andrew did not answer. He was too preoccupied with his new travel writer daydream. “I could be paid to travel?” he thought to himself repeatedly.

Wade groaned—he had effectively lost a student, bringing the attendance down to zero.

Then, the door finally opened, and Connor rushed in, panting. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “My boss…”

Wade cut him off. “Connor, I don’t care. Just sit down.”

Connor sat down quickly. It was not until he was fully in his seat that he noticed the room was practically empty. “Did I miss something?” Connor asked.

“Just my smiling face,” Wade replied unenthusiastically as he looked back up at the clock, tapping his foot with the metronome of the second-hand.

A few silent minutes passed. Connor dug out all of his schoolwork, including the finished assignment for the day. He smiled—proud that he had actually completed something on time.

The door opened, and Hanna entered. “I’m sorry—I got…”

“Sit,” Wade said—his patience growing thinner.

The room was silent as Hanna took a seat next to Connor. Connor looked over at her and smiled, reaching for her hand under his desk. Wade could see the lovers joining their hands together. He groaned.

Another few minutes passed, and Kane showed up. Before Kane could open his mouth, Wade pointed to a seat. Instead of speaking, he simply grunted what sounded like “Sit.”

He waited another moment for Brittany, tapping to the rhythm of the clock.

“Well, she’s apparently not showing up,” Wade muttered. He stood up from his desk. “This is unacceptable,” he announced with his loud, deep voice. He was angry. He stood tall and his muscles became tense. It was like watching Bruce Banner turn into The Hulk.

Everyone was silent—too afraid to even breathe. “I am sick of going through this every year—Everyone showing up later and later as the class goes on. I do not care how boring you think English is. I don’t care about the reason you are here.”

The room was so silent, you could hear a pin drop from across town.

“I do not teach this class for a chance to yell at kids! I don’t teach it because anyone makes me!” Wade continued. “I do it because no one else will—no one else cares. I am on your side—I’m the person you should be thanking—not the person you should resent. I don’t need the pay bump I get from teaching this class. If I stopped teaching this class, none of you would be able to take English in Snowbrooke. You would have to travel at least two-hundred miles south to take it.” Wade stopped and took a few breaths.

He scanned the room of silent students.

“Presumably, you’re all here because you want to eventually get into college—or some post-secondary program. Fail this class, and that will never happen—Ever. Plain and simple. It’s a couple of months. Suck it up. Do the homework. Be on time. Is that asking too much? If you need help, ask me for Christ sakes!”

Wade took a few breaths, relaxing the tense muscles in his body. “Who here even finished the assignment?”

Connor, Hanna and Andrew raised their hands. Kane slouched into his chair.

The door opened, and Brittany walked in. She had a hood over her head, and she was not wearing any makeup. On her legs, she was wearing sweatpants—and not her usual designer jeans, tight pleather pants or fashionable tights. Under her coat, she was wearing a heavy black hoodie—and not her usual low-cut tank top or revealing bralet.

“Sit!” Wade roared. His booming voice echoed through the school hallways.

Brittany stared at Wade unenthusiastically for a moment before turning and sitting at an empty desk, far from Kane. Andrew noticed the quick glance between Kane and Brittany. He turned back to Wade, hiding his sly smile from Brittany and Kane. Once again, there was a glimmer of hope that Brittany could be his.

“From here on out, if you are late, or you don’t finish an assignment, I’m sending you home—and you’re failing the class. Is that understood?”

The frightened class nodded their heads. Brittany was not listening. Instead, she was staring out the window.

“Brittany!” Wade snapped.

Brittany turned to Wade. She glared at him.

“Are you paying attention?”

Brittany did not reply. She just stared at Wade. No matter how hard she tried that night, she could not make herself care about English.

Wade groaned. “Did you do the assignment?”

Brittany was silent for a moment. “No. I forgot.”

Wade groaned as a vein on his forehead began to pulse.

“Today, we’re talking about prepositions…” Wade said, shifting into his lecture.

Brittany noticed Kane look over at her through the corner of her eye. Instead of returning the glance, she immediately looked back out the window, watching the snow endlessly fall from the dark sky.

“Brittany!” Wade snapped again.

She turned to Wade.

“Take off your hat.”

“This is a hood,” she said in a sarcastic tone.

“Take it off now or get out.”

Brittany sighed. She removed her hood, revealing her long messy hair. It had been years since Brittany left the house without her hair looking perfect.

“Was that so hard?” Wade asked.

“Impossible,” she replied.

Wade stared at the girl for a moment. He wanted to snap at her. Instead, he took a breath. “Stay after class.”

“I was just kidding…” Brittany said.

“I said, stay after class.”

Wade turned back to the rest of the class and continued his lecture.

“Fuck…” Brittany muttered.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

NO RESPECT

Brittany tried to sneak out with the rest of the class, hoping Wade had forgotten about the detention he had assigned her two hours before.

“Brittany—Where do you think you’re going?” Wade barked. He did not forget.

“Sorry—I forgot,” Brittany lied.

Wade waited for the rest of the students to leave, and then he closed the door with force. He turned to Brittany and stared into her eyes. Wade did not intimidate Brittany.

There was a long silence.

“What?’ Brittany asked.

“I’m waiting for your apology,” Wade said.

“Apology for what?”

“The apology you owe me for disrespecting me.”

Brittany rolled her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Fenner. What could I ever have been thinking?” she said sarcastically.

“That’s not going to get you very far in life, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“That attitude. That disrespect.”

“Look—I had a bad day, okay? Can we do this another time?”

“You are one spoiled little brat,” Wade said.

“What?” Brittany asked, offended.

“Your parents—The Brucheveskyjs. Everyone in Snowbrooke knows who they are.”

“So?”

“You come from one of the wealthiest families in the country—and you act like it too. You’re used to getting everything you ask for. You’re used to throwing money at your problems to make them go away.”

“That’s not true,” Brittany defended. “My parents gave me shit.”

“In that case, help me to explain why you seem to think you are so deserving. Help me to explain why you think you can talk down to me like you do. Why you think I’m some sort of peasant.”

“Who says that I think that?”

“If there was any other teacher standing here right now, your ass would be sitting at home, explaining to daddy why you’ll never be able to go to college. I haven’t done that—and you still act like you deserve my sympathy.”

“Well doesn’t that just make you a great humanitarian?”

“What did I do to you?” Wade asked.

Brittany looked over at the clock.

“Look at me,” Wade said.

Brittany looked into Wade’s eyes as the room went silent again. “What?” she asked.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Brittany asked.

“Why you hate me so much—What did I do to you?”

“You call yourself sympathetic, but you’re the opposite. When we’re late, you yell at us. When we try to explain our reason, you tell us to shut up. You aren’t sympathetic. Do you even know why I was late? Do you even know why that Connor kid is always late?”

“When someone goes out of the way for you, you treat them with respect. That means showing up on time for class.”

“His mother is in the hospital!” Brittany yelled. “He works a full time fucking job, sees his mother in the hospital and he still makes it to your class within a few minutes of the start time.

“Do I deserve your sympathy? Maybe not—Maybe I’m just an undeserving bitch who doesn’t deserve anything because her parents, who she hasn’t seen in fifteen years, left her a credit card that hasn’t expired just yet—But Connor? Yeah—He deserves your sympathy.

“I don’t give a shit when you yell at me, or threaten to kick me out. I’m trying my best—and no, maybe my best isn’t up to your standard—but when you treat everyone else like shit, then you lose my respect. I get it—you don’t need to teach this class. I get that you’re doing us all a favor, and giving us another chance. And I’m sorry that it isn’t your dream gig—but you need to open your eyes and realize that your life isn’t the only life that shows up for this class every night.”

Wade stared at Brittany for a moment. Brittany looked back at the clock.

“So what—Am I kicked out of the class or what?” Brittany asked.

“Sit down,” Wade said.

Brittany sighed.

“Sit down,” he said sternly.

Brittany reluctantly took a seat at a desk.

“I understand that life can be hard. I understand that sometimes there are more important things to think about than prepositions, or Charles Dickens. I don’t even like Charles Dickens. I think he was a self-indulgent writer and I don’t care for Tale of Two Cities.

“I’ve got a life—just like you. Sometimes, I have things happening at home that make it difficult to put on a smile for a group of kids who would rather be playing video games. Believe me—I know what you’re going through right now.

“That being said—there’s a very important life lesson up for grabs here. Do you know what separates the successful with the unsuccessful?”

“What’s that?”

“The successful suck it up. Yeah—It isn’t easy to suck it up sometimes, but that’s what you have to do. I heard about Connor’s mom, and it’s a shame. I know about you and Kane—and it’s unfortunate.”

“You don’t know anything about me or Kane.”

“You think I’m just some dumb angry fat guy? Yesterday, you were both drooling over one another. Today, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. Take it from someone who’s been in a lot of relationships—someone who’s been through a lot of fights.”

Brittany rolled her eyes. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“It always is. All I’m saying is, the world doesn’t stop for your problems. I can stand at the front of the class and say, ‘It’s okay that you’re late and forgot to do the homework. You still get an a!’ But I don’t say that—You know why? If I did that, I’d be setting you up for failure. If you show up late for a university class and expect the professor to care about—or even listen to your problems, you won’t last a semester. When I see a kid who graduated my class dropping out of college, I feel guilty. I feel like I let that kid down. It’s a blow to what I’ve chosen to be my lifework—do you understand?”

Brittany was silent as she listened to Wade’s speech.

“I’m not a high school teacher,” Wade continued. “I teach creative writing for senior year college students. The university—not the public education board, pays me. I do this because I was given a second chance, and I’m thankful every day for it. The person who was running this class before me, Quincy Glass, was a dickhead. He failed most of the students that came through, and he didn’t give any warnings.

“I was teaching a bunch of rich kids who were taking my class because they heard it was an easy GPA booster. Not one kid who came through my class knew what they wanted to do out of college, nor did they care. As far as I know, they used their degrees to wipe the shit off their asses. The kids Quincy was failing were kids, like you, who were victims of unfortunate circumstances—Kids who didn’t know that they wanted to go to college until after high school was finished—Kids who went travelling instead of finishing school—Kids who weren’t fortunate enough to get teachers who complimented their learning style. Those were the kids who wanted to be in my class—kids who actually wanted to learn what I had to teach. And, because Quincy didn’t recognize that, they never got the chance. And that was really hard on me, so I took over the class.

“This isn’t me trying to shame you, or me trying to let off some steam—this is me trying to help you. Do you understand where I’m coming from?”

Brittany shrugged.

“That’s it? Nothing to say?” Wade asked. “None of that even went into your brain, did it?”

“You want me to say that I’m out of line, but you can’t acknowledge your own faults.”

“And what faults are you referring to?”

“I’ve already told you—so I guess poor listening skills is one of them.”

Wade wanted to explode—nothing he had said had gotten through to the stubborn girl.

“I agree with you—The world is a mean, cold place. I know that no one is going to stop what they’re doing to listen to my ‘unfortunate circumstances’. I know that, because I deal with it every damn day. But you don’t go and kick a dog so it understands what pain feels like—especially a dog that’s already been hit by a truck. Do you understand what I’m saying? Do you honestly think Connor doesn’t realize that people don’t have time to listen to him whine about his mother? Of course he knows—which is why he hasn’t mentioned it to anyone!

“And no—I don’t give a crap about Kane, and no—that has nothing to do with me being late. Did you ever think that there might be another reason why everyone is always late for your classes—year after year? Did you even think that maybe the problem isn’t every single one of them, and maybe that it’s you?”

“Me?” Wade asked. “They’re late because of me?”

“Sure—I was late because of you. Why wouldn’t that be their reason too?”

“And why exactly am I the problem? Am I boring? Do I make you uncomfortable? I’m dying to hear your reason.”

“Yeah—You’re boring, but so is every other teacher. Your impulsive outbursts make me uncomfortable, but that’s beside the point. I was late because I don’t respect you. And you can take that as am insult, or you can take it constructively. I don’t care.”

“You don’t respect me?” Wade asked. He tried to maintain his poker face, but the remark stung. In twenty years of teaching, he had never felt genuinely hurt by a student’s comment.

“Why would I? You walk around telling us about why it’s so important to be respectable—that it’s the most important trait we could have. But it’s like having a waiter tell you the steak is the best thing on the menu, when the waiter is actually a vegetarian. You’ve given yourself the title of ‘most respectable man’, but has anyone ever told you how much they respect you? Or is that a title you assigned yourself?

“Respect is something you earn, and so is ignorance. Self-proclaimed respect is ignorance. You want my respect? Earn it. Quit telling me that you’re my last chance. Quit telling me that I need to respect you because I have to. What you’re asking for is pretend-respect—pity. I can figure this class out on my own. I can memorize the textbook, read the Dickens book, and figure out everything I need from the library and the Internet—I’m learning the material just fine. I will pass the test; I will meet the class requirements. You want me to acknowledge you and listen to your lectures? You want me to take notes? You want me to come and ask you questions, and show up on time for class? Then earn my respect. Don’t beg and whine for it like some toddler at the toy store.”

“Go home,” Wade said as he stared at the door.

Wade was silent; he had just been told by a nineteen-year-old girl. Everything she had said was true—no one had ever had the balls to tell him. He was so affected that he could not muster up the strength to look Brittany in the eyes—A nineteen-year-old girl who spent more time every day doing her makeup than sleeping.