Unlovable (4 page)

The CaL classroom was full. I worked
my way to the back, waiting for my carpool assignment. The teacher,
Miss Coy, came in and tried to call the class to order. She was a
small soft-spoken woman and it took her several tries to quiet the
room down. Eventually, a techno-geek helped her hook up a
microphone. It only made it worse. Her petite voice kept breaking
up over the speakers. I leaned toward her as if it would help me to
understand better.

“
Most of you had this c—ss
last s—ester and wo-ld like you to conti—e driving with the same
p—ple. H—ever some of you are new, or h—ve switched perio—. Who
does not —ave a ride this seme—er?” My hand and four others shot
up. Before Miss Coy could ask for volunteers, Seth Prescott turned
to her and said something.

Seth? I had no idea he had
signed up for CaL. He didn’t seem the type: a good looking,
seemingly self-absorbed guy, working with children? I quickly
chastised myself for judging him unfairly. I’d noticed I was
getting a little too judgmental lately and decided my New Year’s
resolution this year would be to rein it in. Might as well start
now.
I will not judge
, I repeated over in my mind.

Miss Coy said something in reply to
Seth before calling the class to order again. “Who can t—ke —?” She
rattled off the other four student’s names, nine kids volunteered,
and she made the assignments. “Maggie Br—, you’—be riding wi-h—”
Her voice broke up again making it impossible for me to understand
her. She continued. “These assi—ments are for the e—ire semest—, no
exceptio—,” she added sternly. I raised my hand to ask of my fate,
when Seth appeared next to me out of nowhere.

“
Ready, Maggie?” Seth
rattled his keys in front of me. I gawked at him as if he had lost
his mind. Surely, Miss Coy hadn’t assigned me to ride with him?
“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the entire semester, you heard
what she said about switching rides.”

Why did he volunteer to take me? The
expression on my face must have been obvious because he added, “I
believe we’re both in Mrs. Mathew’s class at Hunter Hills,
correct?”

I groaned silently and nodded. There
was my answer. What in the world would we possibly have to talk
about on the drive over? Hair-gel? He could probably give me some
pointers, his hair always looked great even after the wind had
tossed it onto his face. I heaved my book bag up onto my shoulder,
smiled politely, and followed him out to the parking
lot.

An arctic blast cut through my thin
sweater as he opened the car door for me and I let out a gasp. He
was around and in the car in record time, cranking up the heat and
twisting the vents in my direction. “You really should wear a
warmer coat,” he said. “You could get pneumonia wearing only that.”
His car had black leather interior; it was beautiful, and cold. I
was glad the heater worked well.

“
I love
this sweater,” I mumbled through my chattering teeth. Besides, it’s
not as if I had another choice. Rich people like him don’t have a
clue what …
You’re judging him,
Maggie
.
I smiled,
tightened my sweater around me, and blocked out the negative
thoughts.

Before long, we lapsed into an
uncomfortable silence, neither he nor I seemed to know what to say.
I wrenched myself closer to the door while stealing a quick glance
at him. I was surprised to see his hands wrapped tightly around the
steering wheel, so tight his knuckles were white. I looked out at
the road to see if maybe we were driving on ice. It looked clear to
me.

Finally, Seth broke the silence. “Why
do I make you nervous?” He had a slight smile on his face now. “By
the way, you should slide to the center of the seat, it’s much more
comfortable.”

“
I’m comfortable, thanks.”
In actuality, the armrest was digging into my hip, causing me
significant pain. I shifted a bit, making it worse.

“
Isn’t Hillary taking this
class with you?” I desperately wanted to change the
subject.

“
No, cheerleading practice
was switched to second period. She had to drop CaL.” He chuckled
softly, leading me to believe he’d heard Melody in the hall
earlier. How embarrassing!

Only when we pulled up to the school
did I realize my fingers were tangled up around my hair. Seth
looked over at me and smiled. My face went pink as I untwisted
them. He jumped out and came around to open my door before I could
get out.

“
Thanks for the
ride.”

He nodded. “This is my second semester
here. It’s my favorite class.”

“
Mine too,” I said,
astonished.

“
Why is it yours?” His face
looked sincere, as if he was truly interested in what I had to
say.

“
The kids love you, and they
don’t care what you wear.” I thought of my thin worn out sweater.
“Nor do they care what your hair looks like.” That was aimed at his
vanity. For a split second, he smiled. “They love you and want you
to love them, no strings attached. It’s …” I trailed off in search
of the right word.

“
Pure love.”

“
Yes, pure love.” I couldn’t
have said it any better. This was the one place I ever felt loved
or wanted. My mother certainly didn’t love me, at least she never
expressed it in any way. As a child, I longed for her to gather me
onto her lap and read me a story, or brush my hair and tell me I
was pretty. She never did. She never hugged me, or tucked me into
bed at night, and she never made me dinner, or any other meal for
that matter. She had a wicked mean streak, and when she was upset,
her harsh words nipped at my heart. She was a cold, distant woman
who drank too much.

A year and a half ago
things changed-for the worst. She was rarely sober anymore and
seldom left the house. Her words took on a new cruelty; they cut
clear to my soul, some days shredding it into pieces. Words
like:
get out of my sight, you lazy
girl
, or,
can’t
you do anything right, you unlovable nothing
? And my
favorite,
I should have given you up when I had the
chance!

As we approached the school
door, a passage from my favorite Victor Hugo novel
Les Misérables
crossed
my mind.
For Jean Valjean there was no
sun, no beautiful summer days, no radiant sky, no fresh April
dawn
. Completely lost in my pain, I didn’t
feel the tears brimming up in my eyes until one spilled over the
edge.

Seth softly turned me around to face
him. “What’s wrong?” He peered into my eyes and it felt as if he
was burrowing down into the dark recesses of my soul. His fingers
ran softly across my cheek, brushing away the tear. There was an
undeniable tenderness about him and it made my heart flutter. His
reaction caught me off guard, I stammered for a moment not knowing
what to say. Should I tell him about my pathetic life, explain to
him how unloved I was, or how I could totally relate to these
children and what they were feeling?

I opted for the safe
answer, like always; show no emotion, keep it locked inside, they
can’t hurt you if they don’t know anything about
you
.

“
It’s the cold air, it’s
burning my eyes.” Clearly, he didn’t buy my lame excuse, but to his
credit he said nothing. He held the school door open for me and led
us down the hall.

Crying? What the heck was wrong with
me? It must be PMS! I stayed a few steps behind him secretly drying
my face and running through a calendar in my mind.

Approaching the classroom, I peered
around his shoulder and saw twenty-two little smiles eagerly
awaiting us, their little cherub faces pressed up against the glass
before the door promptly flew open. Out they came, jumping on Seth
and me, knocking us both to the floor. Their reaction to him
stunned me. Apparently, they loved him as much as they did
me.

Zane, a tenderhearted blond boy, was
now perched on my knees. “Why are you here early, Miss
Maggie?”

“
I had to change my school
schedule to this hour.”

“
Wow! Our two most
favoritist teachers at the same time,” swooned Noah, a sweet little
guy with big brown eyes. “I’m the luckiest boy ever!” He smiled as
Seth helped me up off the floor.

“
You know what this means!”
said Elise, a stunning, curly-haired blond girl.

“
What?” Seth
asked.

“
It means
you two have to get married.” She smothered her giggle into her
hands, along with several other little girls, while some began
chanting, “Kiss her, kiss her.” Seth laughed loudly, scooped me
into his arms, and before I could protest, planted a big noisy kiss
on my cheek.
Wow, his cologne
smelled heavenly
. I laughed as the girls
cheered and the boys made gagging sounds. He released me when their
teacher, Mrs. Mathews, a tall, middle-aged, Korean woman with long
silky black hair, came out into the hall and shooed them back
inside.

“
Alright, children, settle
down.” As always, her voice was gentle. “We now have Mr. Seth,
along with Miss Maggie as our visiting teachers for this hour.
Since we haven’t had our guest teachers read to us for several
weeks, we’re going to separate into two groups for story time.” She
quickly divided the kids up and sent the groups to opposing ends of
the room. Harrison, a precious redheaded boy, chose several books
for me to read as the rest of my group settled into beanbag chairs
or on small carpet squares. Noah curled up in my lap and began
stroking my cheek.

The time flew. Occasionally, I’d hear
Seth read a line with exaggerated drama and the children would
laugh. I tried not to look over at him, yet my eyes were drawn
there as if by some unseen force. He was glowing. He seemed at home
with the little first graders, three of whom were sitting on his
lap. I was taken aback by this side of him.

Halfway through the hour, Mrs. Mathews
had us switch places so the children could spend equal time with
both of us, though Noah insisted he stay with me. I looked at Seth
as we crossed the room. He smiled and winked. I dropped my head as
my face turned at least four shades of red, and my mind flooded
with suspicion. Why was he acting this way? Did he think I was
going to be another notch in his belt?

Elise tugged at my arm. “What’s wrong,
Miss Maggie?” I didn’t realize my expression had deteriorated into
a scowl. Nudging the negative thoughts out, I began reading to my
new group.

By the end of class, my ill feelings
toward Seth had almost vanished, that was until he slipped his arm
around my shoulders while we walked down the hall toward his car. I
pulled away and gave him an icy glare.

“
Sorry,” he said, wrestling
with a smile. “My car is out this way.” I glanced around and
realized I had turned down the wrong hall. I nodded curtly and
walked toward the correct door, completely humiliated by my
childish overreaction.

I settled quietly into his car, and we
drove back to the high school, again, in tortured silence. If I
didn’t know better, I’d swear he was as nervous as I
was.

Clearing my throat, I attempted to
make conversation as we approached the school. “The kids really
like you,” I said.

“
Yeah, probably because I’m
so hot!” he teased, I think… I hope!

Augh! Melody!

“
You know, I’m surprised the
three of us can fit in your car.”

“
Three? I do believe there
are only two.”

“
Me, you, and your
over-sized ego. I believe that makes three.” I jumped out before
the car came to a complete stop, slamming the door shut behind me.
I was trying to placate some of my guilt, though why I should feel
guilty I had no idea. It was Melody who criticized him, not
me.

“
You’re welcome,” he shouted
to my backside.

Just because he does something kind
doesn’t mean he’s not an egomaniac, I reasoned, still trying to
salve my wounded pride.

Later at lunch, I cut through the
cafeteria on my way to the library. The placed reeked of rotted
food and gym socks, not the most enticing smells for a lunchroom.
Divided into rows of three were forty long gray plastic tables with
attached benches. Spaced evenly across the ceiling were a dozen
humming fluorescent lights and down the center of the room sat
three black garbage cans spaced between the tables, adding to the
ambiance.

Seth and Hillary were snuggled
together at their usual table near the front of the room, all
giggles and jokes. Never once did he look my way, which was just
fine with me. Who needed an arrogant snob in their life? I had
enough to deal with without adding him to the list, including the
nagging voice in the back of my head telling me it was wrong to
judge him. It really needed to shut up!

I arrived home from school to find my
slimy neighbor, Mr. Hoffman from across the road, walking back
toward his haggard gray trailer. My guess was that he had spent the
afternoon with my mother and a bottle of vodka, something he seemed
to be doing all too regularly over the past three weeks. I opened
the door and found my mother passed out on the couch and surmised I
was right.