True; and it’s going to have a worse impact on her than our ‘affair’. She was just beginning to feel accepted again, to trust people, to really make an effort. She was just starting to believe: and I’ve destroyed everything.
“No,” he tells me, dragging my attention back to the present. “Stop blaming yourself. You did what you had to do.”
“I made everything so much worse. She didn’t need more discipline: she needed a different kind of help.”
Niall scoffs, before getting to his feet and yelling something at the team.
“I have to go,” he says, “or we’ll never win this tournament. And I made a promise to someone that we’d win.”
I smile. Even though now is not the right time to be thinking of his promise, I can’t help but harbour a little glimmer of hope.
“Can we talk later? I don’t know what’s going to happen once we get home. I might need some guidance.”
I think about it for a moment. “Of course. I’m not sure I’ll be helpful, but…”
“Thanks, Jordan.”
“Go on, your team’s waiting.” I nod towards the field. “I’ll be here if you need an assistant.”
He flashes me a smile before leaping down the steps leading up to the gym and joining the exhausted kids. I think over everything that’s happened: the way Skylar spoke to me, the rage and pain brimming in her eyes, the fact that I’ve made everything worse. She’ll never be able to trust me again.
I think about the fact that I’m giving this way too much thought.
Way more than if she were just any student.
Niall
Isay goodbye to Carter and gather my courage, opening the driver door and sliding into the car. To my enormous relief, Skylar is still sitting here. I switch on the ignition and pull out of the car park, heading home in silence, my stomach in knots. I really hope I can keep up this hard, stern exterior for the whole journey; but apparently, fate has already decided to leave me to my own devices. My daughter talks as soon as we’re on the main road.
“She kicked me out.” Her tone promises already that nothing good can come of this conversation. “All those chats, all that crap about wanting to help me… And she suspends me for five days! Fuckingfive days!” Her voice grows louder. “What for? For telling her the truth? That she’s fucking my dad?”
I can’t keep up any pretences, here. So I dive right in. “That was the least she could’ve done. All things considered, it actually went well for you. She could’ve expelled you: then you’d have had no qualifications and no hope at doing anything good with your life.”
I don’t think that went too badly; but she seems to think differently.
“Oh, ofcourseyou’re defending her!” She waves her hands around frustratedly. “She must be pretty fucking amazing in bed, or you’d have got bored already, like you did with all the others.”
She’s just trying to wind you up, I tell myself.She’s doing it on purpose, trying to get a reaction from you. I can’t give in. I won’t crumble.
“How do you feel, Kerry? Accepting money to sleep with the headmistress of your daughter’s school?”
“Skylar…”
“Is that not what you’re doing? Aren’t you just mending the wounded ego of the poor loser whose husband left her for a woman half her age?”
“You’re going too far, Skylar. Watch what you say.”
“Why? Are you going to send me back to where I came from?”
I stop in front of my parents’ house and watch as my daughter throws open the passenger door, launching herself out of the car. I follow her as she storms around to the back of the house.
“Skylar!”
She whips around suddenly to face me. “You can’t send me back anywhere, Kerry!” she yells. “I have no one. I don’t know where to go. I don’t have…” She runs her hands through her hair. “My mum is dead!”
“I know, honey.”
I try to approach her, but she backs away, holding her hands in front of her.
