Page 10 of All the Broken Pieces: Vol. 3

Chapter 9

Vi stares at me with her jaw hanging open. She’s leaning on the wooden counter in my classroom, mute.

I wave a hand in front of her face. “Vi. I need help. What the hell is going on? Who would do this to me?” I pull back and drop all expression off my face. “It’s not you, is it?”

That snaps her out of it. “Hell no! It’s not me. I’m a bitch, not a fucking psycho.”

At that moment a student walks through the doorway. It’s a senior guy with long slicked back hair wearing clothes that are too big for him. If he washed his hair and realized he’s not lanky under that mountain of clothing, he’d have a girlfriend. “Ms. Sabba. Miss Clement.” He grins at Vi.

I straighten and walk over to him, ignoring Vi’s red face. She doesn’t talk like that when students are around, but this kid swept in all stealthy and silent. “Jay, what can I do for you?”

He’s still smirking at Vi, when his gaze finally drifts back toward me. “I was passing by and wanted to tell you that my guidance counselor is nagging the shit out of me to go over college acceptance stuff today. I didn’t want you to think I cut.”

“Got it. You’ll be with Mr. Pi?”

He nods. “Yeah. Unfortunately. I’d rather be in here.” He smiles at Vi.

I repress the smile that’s trying to form and lead him back out the door. “Yeah, I’m sure you would. Tell Mr. Pi ‘hello’ for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He takes the hint and goes. When I turn around, I shut the door behind me and Vi’s statue-like pose shatters.

She laughs so loudly that I’m sure Jay can hear her down the hallway. Vi slaps the counter, and lets her mouth hang open for half a beat before asking, “Who else does that happen to? Not you. Just me. That kid is going to tell all his friends what I said and it’ll get back to Muller. That guy hates me.”

Dr. Muller is the principal and although he doesn’t hate Vi, he doesn’t like her either. Vi has a tendency to grate with certain personalities. She speaks her mind. Loudly. Which is why I decided to ask her about all this Facebook stuff.

“No, he doesn’t. And summer is only a few days away. He’s not going to care. If it was September, different story. But it’s June. You won’t hear a peep from him. He wants to get his wife up to the Catskills as fast as possible and bang out a few babies before fall.”

Vi snorts loudly and points a finger at me. “Holy shit! I can’t believe you just said that.”

“That’s all the guy talks about—romantic weekends at that cabin with his wife.”

“I know, but no one says it like that. I think I like you more now. Not that I want to have babies with you or anything.” She barks a laugh and then grins at me. When I don’t know how to respond, she continues, “Not that you’re not hot, because you are. And there are a lot of guys that dig that emo vibe you’re giving off.”

“I’m not emo.” I look at my white outfit and quickly add, “The black smock doesn’t count.”

“You’re emo on the inside, babe. Your inner-emo resides in here,” she presses her blood-red nails to my heart. “Cuz, doll, in case you didn’t know, you’re not exactly perky.”

I look down at my tits, “I used to be. Perky. Heading towards forty sucks. Stuff starts pointing south.” I’m half kidding. Half. The other half is inching toward the equator and it’s hard not to notice.

Vi starts laughing again, and slaps my arm. “Not that you have that problem, but that’s what boob jobs are for. Now, back to the problem at hand. Some fucktard is messing with you.”

“Nice vocabulary.”

“I teach English and hang out with juvenile delinquents all day. Whatcha expect?”

“Just because you didn’t get the honors kids this year doesn’t mean that they’re all in juvie.”

She waves a hand at me. “Same thing. So listen, the break-ins. Think it’s the same person?”

I sit on a stool and rub a hand over my arm, trying to wipe away the uncomfortable feeling the question spurred. “I don’t know. I mean, it doesn’t make any sense. I must have pissed someone off, someone who cared about Zach—but other than his family and me, there isn’t anyone else.”

She lifts a perfectly plucked brow. “Tim. There’s Tim.”

“I thought of that, but—why? That’d be so weird? And why now?”

She folds her arms over her ample bosom and then points a finger in my face, head swaying to one side. Her voice is staccato. “But nothing. Listen. See things like they are. The guy likes you—always has—and has been trying to get in your pants forever. Now is the perfect time to swoop in. Right when you’re ready to finally give up the fuckin’ what-ifs and move onto the next guy. Am I right? Cuz, honey, you gotta be so horny. It’s been years.” She drawls out the last word and doubles over as she says it. As if it were the most horrible thing in the world.

I stiffen at that and jerk my head back like a shocked squirrel. “He doesn’t like me. Not like that.”

“Outa everything I said, that’s what you latch onto?” She has a throaty chortle. “Are you mental, babe? He wants you. The way the guy looks at you says everything. The way he looks at me says everything.”