Page 17 of Working for the Teacher

“Why not? Everybody already knows anyway.” He shrugs, a mean little smile pulling at his mouth. “It's not like it's a secret you're a failure. Everybody in this town talks about it.”

Heat rushes into my face, and for one awful second, I can’t trust myself to speak. Twenty-five pairs of eyes are fixed on me, waiting to see what I’ll do next.

Whatever happens, I am not crying in front of a room full of fifteen-year-olds.

“Mason. Hallway.”

“Why, because I said something true?”

“Now.”

He rolls his eyes and slides out of his chair with all the urgency of a man walking to his own execution. I follow him out and pull the door closed behind me.

“You cannot talk to me like that.”

“Why not? It's true.”

“It doesn't matter if it's true. You don’t know the situation, it's disrespectful, and it's not your business. I need you to understand that there are consequences for talking to any teacher the way you just talked to me.”

“What? You gonna write me up? Send an email home that nobody reads? You don't get it. You don't get to come in here and act like you have it all figured out. You don't know anything about me.”

“You're right. I don't. So why don't you tell me instead of taking it out on me in front of the whole class.”

“Forget it.” He turns like he's going to walk off again, the same way he did the last time, and I feel the familiar helplessness rising in my chest, the sense that I am completely and totally out of my depth with this kid and I have no idea how to reach him. I've tried patience, firmness, calling home, which resulted in a voicemail that's permanently full, and an email with no response. Every approach I've tried just seems to bounce off him.

“Mason.”

He doesn't turn around. I open my mouth to say something, but I don't get the chance.

“Hey!”

The voice comes from down the hall, and both of us turn to find Ryder, arms crossed over his chest in a way that makes it very clear he's heard every word of the last two minutes.

Mason's whole posture changes instantly, cocky bravado draining out of him.

“You got a problem with authority, huh? I used to have the exact same problem.”

“I wasn't talking to you,” Mason says.

“No, you weren't. Doesn't mean I wasn't listening.” Ryder takes a step closer. Mason visibly shrinks a couple inches even though he's trying hard not to. “I know exactly what you're doing right now. Been there. Done it worse than you're doing it, if I'm honest. You're pissed off about something that's got nothing to do with her, and you're taking it out on the person who's actually trying to give a damn about you, because it's easier than dealing with whatever's actually wrong.”

Mason doesn't say anything, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I got sent to juvie around your age. You know why? Because it was easier to be angry at the whole world than admit I was scared of my own life falling apart. Took me a long time to figure out that being a smartass to people who actually give a shit about you doesn't fix anything. It just makes sure you end up alone.”

Something shifts in Mason's face. The anger doesn't disappear, but it loosens into fifteen-year-old confusion.

“Ms. Hayes didn't do anything to you,” Ryder says. “She's trying to teach you something, and you're wasting the opportunity being a jackass about it. That's on you, not her. You want to be pissed off at something, be pissed off at whatever's actually going on at home, and stop taking it out on the one adult in this building who's still showing up for you even when you're making it hard.”

The hallway is completely silent for a long moment. Mason looks at the floor.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and it's not entirely clear if it's directed at me or at Ryder or at the floor itself, but it's the first apology I've heard out of him in weeks.

“Not me you need to say it to.”

Mason glances up at me, still not quite meeting my eyes. “Sorry, Ms. Hayes.”

“Thank you,” I manage. “Go back to class and take out your textbook, yeah?”