A Little Crushed (8 page)

“No.” Rebecca held up her hands and stepped back. “I am not talking about him. He has nothing to do with this conversation.”

“But he has.” Emma’s colour deepened. “It’s just...well...everyone in our class is a bit worried. We’re not all as clever as you, and if you’re going turn every lesson into a battlefield…We’re not in fifth year now. You used to be funny but… Oh, I hate this.”

“Spit it out.” Rebecca guessed what was coming but no way was Emma getting off lightly.

“The others are tired of your antics.”

“And you? Are you tired of me?”

“Don’t be daft.” She looked close to tears. “You know we’re best friends.”

“Are we?” Rebecca turned before Emma read the hurt on her face. “Look, if you want to go out with Andy Stone, then go. I don’t care. I am not your keeper. If you want to be stupid and gullible, just don’t expect me to tag along.”

“Why is it that every time I disagree with you, I’m stupid, or pathetic, or gullible? I happen to like Mr. Jackson, and so does everyone else. You’re the stupid one. Sarah’s right. You do need to grow up.”

Astounded by this unprecedented attack, Rebecca had no come-back.

* * * *

From behind his copy of
Romeo and Juliet
, Max watched Rebecca slip behind her desk. She looked paler than normal. He noticed she and the girl with the curls were not talking. He wondered if they’d argued. They seemed too close to fall out. Rebecca looked up and met his gaze causing him to feel…struth…embarrassed, like a shy schoolboy caught drooling over a secret crush. For the briefest of seconds, he found it hard to breathe. Her expression tugged at his heart. In her eyes, he read incredible pain and so much anger. Mouth turned down in a dismissive frown, she looked away and opened her bag. He wasn’t fooled. His scrutiny unnerved her.

He tugged at his neck.
Pull yourself together, Maxy boy. You’re the adult, remember.

“Okay, folks. Let’s get this show on the road. I thought we’d begin with some more of the great bard. Who would like to read from where we left off? You. Simon, isn’t it?” Deliberately avoiding Rebecca and her friend, he zeroed in on the carrot kid. “Off you go.” Arms folded, he leaned back against the desk. “Let’s take it from where Romeo climbs up the balcony to woo his love.”

“To what?”

A wave of laughter ricocheted around the room. Even Max had to smile at the look of pure terror on the freckled face. “
Woo
, you philistine. It means to court, to flatter, to flirt. What’s the matter, Simon? You have never tried to flirt?”

“Only with his hamster.” Laughing so much at his own wit, Peter nearly fell off his chair.

“At least my hamster is a girl. You snog your dog, and it’s a boy.”

More raucous laughter.

“For goodness sake. You’re all pathetic.”

Rebecca leapt to her feet with such force her chair careened back and crashed to the floor. Grabbing her bag, she stormed from the room and slammed the door so hard, the glass pane rattled.

For a moment, Max didn’t know what to do. A stunned silence swirled around his head. His students stared at the door in unison, mouths open before turning their collective gaze on him. It was like a scene from the
Dawn of the Dead.

David Keeley pierced the tension first. Lips parted in a cruel grin, he leaned forward and tapped Emma on the shoulder. “Hey Brown, you wanna stop hanging around with her. She’s well on the way to the funny farm.”

“And you’ll be on your way to detention if you don’t shut up.” Max wasn’t sure if he was allowed to tell a pupil to shut up, but he didn’t care. Gripping the edge of the desk, he held his temper in check. He itched to wipe the arrogant smirk from the boy’s face. Why he felt compelled to defend a girl who showed him so little respect, he didn’t know—except Rebecca was a troubled soul.

“O...kay, Simon.” He loosened his tie. “Let’s take it from ‘With love’s light wings did I o’er-perch these walls; for stony limits cannot hold love out
.’
Come on, we haven’t got all day.”
Ladies and gentleman, the part of efficient, in-control teacher will now be played by Max Jackson.
Yup, that’s how he was going to do this. He would
act
at being a teacher. He’d been pretty good on the boards during his college days.

His strategy worked. Max got through the remainder of the lesson on autopilot. His class remained subdued, buying into his brooding mood, no doubt. When the bell sounded for lunch break, he shared their relief.

“Essays on my desk by Friday.” His command mingled with the muted chatter. “Miss Brown, Emma…can you wait behind, please?”

Max waited until the room emptied of inquisitive pupils, and he closed the door. Emma stood by his desk, bag clutched to her chest, gaze focused on the blackboard. He doubted his scrawled examples of Shakespeare’s use of iambic pentameter fascinated her. She bit at the inside of her mouth. He made her nervous. Great. It seemed to be his forte these days.

“Relax.” Smiling, he tried to put her at ease. The blush deepened. The penny dropped.
Oh Lord, that’s all I need: a schoolgirl crush.
“I want to talk to you about Rebecca. You and she are best friends, am I right?”

“Oh, yes, but please don’t report her to Mr. Black.” Emma looked close to tears. “I know she was rude to you the other day, and she shouldn’t have run out like that, but well, you don’t know the whole st—anyway, she’s really not that bad, sir. She is very kind really. She…um… She loves animals.”

“So did Adolf Hitler.” He couldn’t help it; it just slipped out.

Loyalty momentarily pushed aside, she giggled.

“Emma, I respect that you wish to support your friend. It is truly commendable, but you shouldn’t allow her to overwhelm you quite so much. And to put your mind at rest, I have no intention of reporting Miss Harding to the Head. I know more than you think. I understand she has been through some tough times but…I have to ask. I think there is more going on, here. Did you two argue?”

Emma averted his gaze and shuffled her feet. “You guessed that? Yes we did.”

“Well, I won’t ask you what about, but when you see Rebecca, please ask her to come and see me. This can’t go on. This is your final year. Exams are not that far off, and I cannot have this continuing atmosphere in my classroom.”
Oh, that was a good line. Way to go, Max. You almost sound like you know what you’re doing
. He patted her on the shoulder. “Okay, you may go now and Emma...”

She turned at the door.

“No more copying, please.”

“You knew?” The china blue eyes widened in amazement. “Shit—I mean oh. Funny, Mr. Adams never did.”

Waiting for her to close the door, Max slumped in his chair and buried his head in his hands. “This is too fucking hard.”

“Knock, knock.” Tom stuck his head around the door, a wide grin stretching what Kate called his boy-band face. “As your superior, I must remind you no blaspheming until four p.m., and you look like crap, by the way. More problems?”

Dragging his palms down over his chin, Max contemplated telling him. He decided not to. He couldn’t go running to Tom every time he faced a challenge. No, he would figure Miss Harding out on his own. “Nope.” He slipped his arms into his suit jacket. “All is well in the land of ‘Aus.’ Now, didn’t you say you had some of Fiona’s delicious egg mayonnaise sandwiches to share? Let’s hit the staff room.”

“Are you sure?” Tom gave him a sly wink. “Fiona tells me Christine Holmes is on the attack. She wants you, man.”

“Well who wouldn’t? A hot-blooded specimen of manhood like myself? God,
I
even want me.”

“Modest as ever.” Tom allowed him to pass before slapping him on the back.

Rebecca sat on a bench in the market square, a
Sara’s Sinfully Sweet Shop
bag of comfort food on her lap. Who cared if she missed English? She didn’t. Compared to this
crise de confiance,
education seemed irrelevant. She stuck her tongue in the delicious, creamy centre of a gooey creme egg, two hazelnut fudge bars on her lap as back up. If only life was simple. It
had
been simple until he arrived.

Her brain was in chaos. Being out of control was a new experience for her. She hated it. How on earth was she supposed to get through the rest of the year? It would be hell on earth, facing him each day. And just why she blamed him for today’s fracas, she didn’t understand. Actually, she did. Easier to blame him than admit Emma had a point. And of course, their latest arguments had all come about because of him.

“It just doesn’t make sense, you know.” She vented to the stoic pigeon waiting patiently for a crumb of chocolate. “I don’t know why I’m letting him bother me so much. He’s just another patronising teacher.” Her friend cooed and bobbed his head in agreement. “Oh, here.” She scattered the half-eaten chocolate on the ground, much to his joy, and he immediately summoned his family of twenty.

“No feeding the pigeons!”

The disgruntled park attendant glared at her, but Rebecca fixed him with her my-father’s-taxes-pay-your-wages glint. “I’m going.” She sniffed. “Oh, and by the way, the ladies’ loos honk. I suggest you spend less time on terrorising animal lovers and more on your job.”

“You’re not supposed to feed the pigeons,” he croaked. “They’re vermin.”

Rebecca wasn’t surprised he croaked. She couldn’t remember a time when the old boy hadn’t had a fag glued to his bottom lip. “So sue me.” Scrunching up the empty sweet bag, she lobbed it into the wastepaper bin. She knew he wouldn’t. Her father’s deadly lawyer reputation preceded him. He’d been bailing her out of trouble since she could walk.

Sighing, Rebecca folded her hands behind her back. Across the common, the river meandered in the fragile late September sun. She mourned summer’s passing. She missed her river swims. So what to do with the rest of her day? No way was she going back to school, and going home was out of the question. Her mother meant well, but she wasn’t up for a round of inquisition-style questioning. Which left… She jumped up and brushed the chocolate crumbs from her lap. Her father’s office was at the end of the high street, and it was Wednesday. He always ordered in a doorstop sized burger and fries on a Wednesday.

* * * *

“Afternoon, Beth.” Blowing a kiss at her father’s long-suffering secretary, she breezed into the inner-office just in time to catch her father bite into a high rise burger. When he saw her, he nearly choked.

“My, my, dear Pater.” Kicking out one of his leather client-interrogation chairs, she then sprawled in it. “No wonder you are such a fine lawyer. Such deceit.” Trying not to laugh at the sheepish expression, she leaned forward, elbows resting on the huge walnut desk, and chin resting on bridged fingers. “Tell you what. You don’t tell Mum I bunked off school, and I won’t tell her about your cholesterol fest.”

Her father gave that crooked grin she adored. “I have raised a monster, I think.” He dabbed at his lips with a ketchup-stained napkin. “Okay, deal.” His eyes narrowed. “You knew, didn’t you? How?”

“Dad,” reaching over, she nabbed a fry, “you may be an ace lawyer, but you’d make a crap criminal.” She waved the chip at his snowy-white shirt. “Ketchup stains. Mum never notices, but I do.”

“Mmm…quite.” He sat back, fingers bridged together. “So, despite our mutual let’s-not-evoke-the-wrath-of-mother pact, I fear I must slip into outraged father mode and demand to know exactly why you are bunking off school. I know Jack and Victoria occasionally stray but you? Never.”

“You knew about Jack and Vicky?”

“I have my spies, and don’t prevaricate. What’s going on?”

The benevolent dad gloves came off, and he morphed into prosecution mode.

“Nothing.” Drawing her legs up onto the chair, she wrapped her arms around her knees. “Everything. I stormed out of his lesson.”

“Oh dear.” Sighing, he removed his Larry King specs. “By ‘his,’ I am presuming you mean Mr. Jackson. Talk to me, Becky. This is about more than this Mr. Jackson, isn’t it?”

He slipped back into concerned parent role. His gentle tone only made her sorrier for herself.

“Nothing feels right anymore, Dad,” she admitted. “I can’t seem to control my feelings. I don’t even understand them. I feel so angry with everyone—and now especially with Emma—and I know I have no right to be.”

“Emma? What does she have to do with any of this?”

“It all started really with that bloody—sorry—Mr. Jackson. She’s always been on my side, but now we argue all the time and especially about him.”

“Rebecca, listen, love,” he said. “Emma is just growing up. She’s developing her own personality, and well, you can be pretty domineering at times.”

“I suppose, but I always thought we saw eye to eye on everything. I used to be the most important person in her life and now—”

“I suspect Emma doesn’t always agree with you. She backs you up because she’s loyal. Just because she disagrees with you every now and again doesn’t mean she isn’t your friend. She will always be your friend. When you went missing…”

Rebecca wanted to cry. She hated seeing the pain on his face.

“I’ve never seen anyone so distraught. She blamed herself for not going with you.”

“Lucky for her she didn’t.” Rebecca dug her nails into her forearms, not wanting to go down that road.

“My point is Emma loves you.”

“It all sounds so petty, doesn’t it?” Rebecca forced a smile to her lips. “She’s got a boyfriend, you know.”

“And you’re feeling left out. It’s a perfectly normal reaction, but really, I wouldn’t worry too much about her boyfriend. He may be the first, but he certainly won’t be the last. Your friendship will outlast any of them.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Rebecca wasn’t convinced.

“Don’t shut her out.” Reaching out to her, he took her hand. “This is a very new experience for Emma, and she’ll want to share it with you, her best friend. I know it’s going to be hard for you. You’re not ready yet for relationships. It will take time to learn to trust.”

“Dad, please—”

“No, Becky, let me finish. You know I’ll support you in anything you decide—even if it means going against your mother. But I have to wonder; maybe she’s right. Perhaps it’s time to try it her way.”