Page 3 of People Like Us

“I knew you liked to gossip.” I clicked my tongue in disapproval.

“You’re lucky she had the foresight to tell me instead of calling your father.”

My gut twisted at the thought. “I know,” I admitted quietly.

The old man rocked on his heels in thought. “Might want to ask someone to tutor you,” he suggested, hands buried deep in the pockets of his khaki slacks.

“Know anything about marine biology?” I asked dryly.

He glared at me impatiently. I don’t think I’d ever seen Mr. Hayward smile, but I was determined to get one out of him before I graduated. “No. But I’m sure one of your classmates might.”

I nodded, understanding that he was more so instructing me on what to do rather than merely suggesting it. I usually followed any advice he had to offer considering he was the only adult I knew that didn’t hide exactly what he meant to say in some religious allegory, or thinly veiled threat of eternal damnation.

“Yes, sir,” I agreed.

“Don’t linger out here forever,” he said tersely, waving a hand peppered with sunspots toward the bottle that had finally halted its adventure underneath a stack of lockers.

“Yes, sir,” I repeated.

He nodded and returned to his class. When I made it back to mine, after taking my time to fill and drain my bottle a few times, first period was almost over.

I didn’t bother to take any notes on the last few slides. The bell rang, and I quickly stuffed my unused laptop into my bookbag and made my way out the door. I had been meaning to request to move my locker to this building so I could ditch the device after biology without having to walk across campus, considering I didn’t need it for any other class on my schedule for the semester, but I kept forgetting.

Mr. Hayward said hand writing was a lost art, and had refused to allow anything digital to be used in his class, forcing us to keep physical journals instead. I had home ec third period where we mostly learned how to cook and iron—a class I thought ought to be mandatory for all students, but was only ever filled with girls. And then I interned in the library for my last class of the day, after lunch. Therefore the school-issued laptop, funded by the ticket sales our football team brought in, only served as extra weight in my bag for the majority of the day.

The hall was flooded with students all moving at an annoyingly slow pace. Couples lingered, friends gossiped, teachers stood watch, sipping coffees that I envied. I pushed my way through the crowd to Mr. Hayward’s room. I should have chosen English for my first period since I could easily dissect Brontë and Austen in my sleep.

The old man stood on the threshold of the room, his large belly taking up the frame and denying me entry. “Did you find a tutor?” he asked.

“Its been ten minutes,” I said, the words slurring around the cough drop tucked in my cheek.

“Ten minutes in which you were in a room full of students passing the exact subject you need to be tutored in,” he said gruffly.

I rolled my eyes and turned to scan the sea of students. My eyes caught on a head of dark curls hovering above everyone else and I smiled to myself.

I called August’s name and his steps slowed, giving me enough time to catch up with him. When I reached him, he turned, long fingers working quickly to spin one of the several rings on his other hand. August easily towered over me, his wide shoulders slumped forward.

“What?” he asked, sounding as exhausted as I felt.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound cheerful.

“Hey,” he echoed flatly.

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in tutoring me? I could pay you.” I gave him my most charming smile, the one that usually got boys to give me whatever I asked for.

“Why?” he asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious.

“Cause, I’ve been really into porn lately and I wanted to bring my student-tutor fantasy to life,” I said in a mock valley-girl tone, twirling a lock of dark brown hair around a manicured finger.

The corners of his mouth turned up just slightly, his cheeks beginning to warm, which sent a thrill through me that I did my best to ignore. “Alright.” He shrugged. “But I’m not very good at multitasking, so we’ll have to find a third to film. Think your boyfriend could be into that?”

I narrowed my eyes and his smirk dropped instantly, while the color in his face deepened before he said, “Just meet me in the parking lot after school. We’ll figure something out.”

“Okay,” I agreed, brightly.

When I made my way back to Mr. Hayward he stepped dramatically out of the doorframe, gesturing for me to go inside. I curtsied before I entered.

The rest of the day went smoothly until lunch.