Teach Me (9 page)

ASTARR

Ouch. I look at the time stamp, and she had just sent it a half hour ago. I need to talk to her, to explain to her that I had no idea. My hands are tied. Not just losing my job, but jail time, she is my underage student.

But I love her; that hasn’t changed, and she needs to hear it. I send the e-mail I had written as a response to the key charm bracelet. The one I had planned on sending while I was five hundred miles away. I make the split decision to go to her. I am still that guy from the beach, and she deserves better than an e-mail trying to explain. I am on the road in no time and type her address into my GPS in my rental car. She only lives ten miles from where I am staying.
Convenient.

I pull up in front of her house, and it is dark; there are no lights on except for one room upstairs. I sit and just stare, waiting for something to happen. I guess I am that something that needs to happen. I know that Mr. Starr works long hours and isn’t usually home until after ten or eleven most
nights, and it’s only six. I am somehow at the front door, knocking before I know what I am doing. I knock and then knock again with sudden urgency.

“Coming!”
I hear Ali yell from behind the door. She swings it open and then freezes. “You can’t be here,” she says, quickly closing the door halfway. Her eyes are red and puffy, and she is clenching a tissue in her fist.

“I am that guy from the beach,” I almost yell. Her sad doe eyes widen. “My love for you hasn’t changed, but we do need to talk about this. I’m not letting you just run away from this.” I lower my voice.

Ali nods slowly and looks down the street, then opens the door so I can come in. I can feel the tension in the air, and all I can think about was our last night on the beach together filled with a completely different tension. We just stand there, three feet apart, not even looking at each other. Ali turns her back to me and takes a step away from the door where I am still standing.

“So I’m guessing that you came here to say something along the lines of ‘I will always love you, but it’s over’ or something like that?” Her voice is low and defeated. I take a step closer and touch her arm.

“No,” I say slowly, and Ali turns to look at me. “I came here to tell you that I love you.” Her breath is caught in her throat. I am overwhelmed with emotion at the raw look in her eyes. “I love you, Allison Starr, always,” I say, taking her in my arms, filling my lungs with air. It’s like I haven’t been able to breathe without her close. “I love you,” I say one last time
before I kiss her. I can tell that she is holding back. “It is me Ali, Cooper,” I say, kissing her ear, letting my teeth graze her lobe. I feel her shiver against me.

“Cooper,” she whispers in recognition and hearing her say my name is the sweetest sound on Earth. I nod, and her arms come around me, pulling me close. I know I should be here to tell her it’s over, but it isn’t. I don’t think it will ever be over for either of us. So instead we make out like it’s our last day of the planet. All
the
want and need from being apart has taken its toll, and we can’t control ourselves. The next time we come up for air, it is about an hour later, and we are somehow in her bedroom. I roll over on my side, and so does she.

“How did we get in here?” I ask. Ali laughs, and I recognize it as the laugh before I became her
Mr. Perez
.

“I can’t be positive, but I am pretty sure you carried me some of the way,” she says, running her hands through my shortened hair. For the next hour, we are just Coop and Ali who fell in love over the summer. We kiss and
laugh,
and no problems loom over us. Our stomachs remind us of the simple things like the necessity to eat. We decide to go to the kitchen, and she makes me macaroni and cheese. I am surprised to see that it is almost nine.

“When is your dad coming home?” I finally have to ask. She looks at the clock.

“He is on a twenty-four-hour shift, so maybe around eight a.m.”

Allison’s dad is a fireman and has some crazy hours. He is the captain, so his hours are a little more structured, but he is always willing to go beyond the call of duty if it is for the greater good. At first all I can think about is that it gives us hours upon hours alone together, but the reality of my visit dawns on us.

“Ali,” I start. She shakes her head.

“I’m not ready for this to be over yet.” She stands and crosses the room, crossing her arms over her chest. I stand and follow her, holding her from behind.

“It isn’t over,” I assure her. “Just wait until we can figure out what to do.” She turns and faces me.

“You are my teacher. They will fire you.” She says it so direct and cold. “Or put you in jail.”

I nod, not wanting to accept this. “I know.”

“So,” Ali finally says, “we are done.” I can feel tears burning at my eyes.

“In the sense that I am not going to see anyone else until my girlfriend graduates in May.”
I kiss her hair. Ali lets out a hard laugh and a
smile that doesn’t touch her eyes. We kiss once more. It is very soft and sweet.

“I don’t expect you to do that,” she says as we walk to the door. I turn to make direct eye contact with her.

“I don’t think you understand how much I truly love you.” That blush that I love touches her cheeks. “You are the woman I love, and I am not going to date other people until that special day in May.” I feel sick to my stomach saying this, knowing how much it will hurt to be away from her. “I do understand that this is your senior year, and you’ll have events and dances, so . . .” I don’t even want to finish my thoughts. Ali nods solemnly but doesn’t answer.

“Okay.” She smiles, but it still doesn’t touch her sad eyes. I lift her chin, and I can see it—the separation. Ali is closing down and shutting me out. But what else can we do?

Seven

Allison

             
I never wanted to be the strong one, but I could see it in his beautiful blue eyes that September night, I had to be the one. Saying goodbye—no matter how temporary it may be—was one of the hardest things I had to do. I thought as the weeks went on that the pain would subside, but it only grew. Every day became a challenge if I could make it through or not. I have lost my appetite for life too. Nothing seemed to matter. I couldn’t even seem to lose myself in the safety of my books.

             
Tutoring during the week was agony, being so close to Cooper but having to keep distance. All evidence of summer erased from his appearance. Gone was the carefree floppy-haired boy surfing away his days. Now a man with the weight of Atlas on his shoulders stands at the front of my class every day.
His hair darker, the tan of his skin lightening.
He looks like Cooper, but it just isn’t the same person. My chest ached from being away from him, and I don’t know how much longer I can justify my depression.

             
Being in a private school means there are less students, so everyone knows everyone’s business, including things about teachers. We’re teenagers, and we gossip—it’s just what we do. About a week ago is when I
first heard it. Mr. Perez and Ms. Sherman are dating. Two days later, it was rumored that they were engaged. Talk about a blow to the heart. Ms. Sherman, Stacy Sherman. She isn’t just any teacher—she is the PE goddess of our school. I’m not exaggerating—Zeus could be her father. She is tall and slim with a tight muscular . . . everything. Her long blonde hair is always perfect to match the perfect tan she has year-round. She is a few years older than Cooper, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I know this because I am a stalker. I waited by the faculty parking lot and watched them leave for lunch together. They were laughing, and he opened the door to his car for her, and she touched his arm and winked at him. Winked! She is a tramp. Ms.
Tramp,
and I have her fourth period just before lunch.

             
So much for “I’m not going to see anyone until May.”
Blah-blah—crap crap.

It has been almost three months, or sixty-eight days, since the last time we’ve been together. I should have savored every second of that last day we had, but I didn’t grasp that it was our last day—our kiss. If I had, I may not have ever let him leave. It’s the first week of December, and we’ve had almost no contact. Three weeks until winter break and I can mope all I want.

Coop—Mr. Perez has been extremely careful. He hardly calls on me in class, never makes eye contact for more than a second, and during tutoring, he keeps the door open and sits on the opposite side of the classroom. I, on the other hand, have been borderline depressed and
obsessive. I replay every second we spent together. Now I have the joy of analyzing Ms. Sherman and comparing myself to her, and I never come out on top when I do. I don’t think I slept or ate for the first month of school. He looks fine, more than fine. His hair is darker and a little longer, and he even has the nerve to have a bounce in his step. I sigh and realize Christina is watching me. We are in chemistry, and I have an hour with Mr. Hotness, as some of the girls have taken to calling him, in about twenty minutes.

             
“It has been months, Ali,” she whispers almost urgently. I nod. “I mean he dumped you hard and acts like you don’t even exist.” She touches my hand lightly. “I hate to be the one to say it, but you need to move on.” I pull my hand back from hers like she burned me.

             
“I don’t want to move on,” I mumble angrily.

             
“I know,” she says and takes my hand, ignoring me. We listen to the rest of the lecture and then have lab time. Christina decides I need to spruce up a little and puts some blush on my sunken cheeks and gloss on my lips before English. When the bell rings, I am surprised to find Jeremy waiting outside of the door. Christina smiles and shrugs as she walks away.
That sneaky little . . .
move
on . . . Jeremy. Some friend she is.

             
“Hey, Ali,” Jeremy says, taking my backpack from my shoulder to carry it like he used to back when he was my boyfriend. “I thought we’d walk to class together.”

             
“Okay,” I say, feeling naked without my bag to hide behind.

             
Jeremy is a nice guy. We dated until the end of last year; we just thought it was better to break it off and enjoy our summers. It was mutual, but now I am thinking it was more my idea than his. Being back at school has made him sentimental or something. Jeremy had persistently kept in touch this summer, telling me he missed me, but I have been a ghost the last few months. Still, he has been telling me that he misses “us” and has been trying to take me out.

             
“So,” he says as we get into an almost-empty hallway, “winter formal is in three weeks, and I heard you didn’t have a date.” I stop walking and look at him.

             
He is a good guy, cute too. But can’t he see that I am broken? I have known Jeremy since elementary school, and he has always been my friend. I was there when he made varsity football our freshman year and went to every one of his games. He was the popular jock, and I was the nerd. He was sought after by all the girls in the school, and I couldn’t lie to myself—I could see the appeal. Jeremy is average height, but loaded with muscles. His hair is the color of fresh brewed coffee, and his eyes are this intense amber brown that you can’t help but get lost in.

Last year we just looked at each other and decided to give dating a try. It was strange at first, especially the first time he kissed me, but I also felt safe and wanted. It was strange walking hand in hand with him as he carried my backpack class to class, with everyone watching. I secretly wondered if we’d get married someday and tell our kids how we met in the
sandbox, friends all our lives. In the end, I realized he’d always be my friend, and he had gained a new perspective in what he saw in me. He told me the night we broke up that I am the love of his life.

             
“I’m not going,” I tell him flatly. He takes my hand in his and keeps walking. I want to snatch my hand back, but it feels so warm, and I feel that wanted feeling. Immediately, people turn to watch us. I’m sure we will be rumored to be back together by first period tomorrow. Right before we enter our English class together, he turns me toward him.

             
“Please just think about it,” he says, amber eyes pleading. “I’m asking you to please go to our senior winter formal, Ali.
Even if it is only as friends.”
Jeremy leans in and lightly brushes his lips to my cheek, then walks into class. I can feel eyes on me, two of them blue and burning fiercely, as I take my seat. The entire class saw and heard everything between Jeremy and me, and I know my face has to be the color of a tomato.
Great.

             
Jeremy puts my bag on my desk, and I slowly look up. Cooper looks upset and gives me a look that chills my heart. He told me to go to school events. He is the one who won’t even speak to me. How can he be angry at me? The bell rings, and I sit in my hard plastic chair.

             
“Don’t unpack your things,” Mr. Perez says. “We will be spending this period in the library so you can do some research for your paper that is due
before winter break.” The class is excited, and Jeremy stands to carry my bag for me again.