Page 7 of Devil's Savior

I’m days away from seeing my, hopefully, last PT session and my check-in with my doctor.

Even better than that, I feel so much better.

Not having any energy as I was healing, especially at first, was so damn hard. I’ve always been pretty active in my life, but it felt like exhaustion became my best friend right after the shooting. It took forever for me to feel like I had even a little bit of control over my life.

Things are better now, but sometimes being tired and a bone deep ache can sneak up on me. It’s a reminder of everything that happened and the day my life changed completely. Then there’s my scar.

I shake my head as my students start to file into the classroom. I almost cringe as I watch them. Freshman year is rough, and my students are clearly being weighed down by the year. I’m grateful as hell that the end of the school year is close.

Was I ever this gangly and awkward? I know I was. Hell, Wrenley would pull out some pictures and show me every single reminder she could get her hands on if she were here right now. That would be…unfortunate.

Colt flashes me a smile, one he probably thinks is sexy and flirty, as he makes his way to his desk. I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. For the most part, my students have been amazing as I’ve been recovering, but a few of them are assholes. If I could place a bet on it, I’m sure they’re going to be that way for their whole lives.

When it comes to Colt, he’s the kind of guy who thinks he’s a gift to womankind. Somehow, that includes me. How? I have no fucking idea.

Sure, I’m not all that much older than my students, but I’m in a completely different place in my life and none of these pubescent teens do a damn thing for me. He wouldn’t have been my type back when I was in high school either.

He’s that typical cocky guy who wants attention and popularity to fall at his feet. He’s on the football team and while he’s not a starter, I’m sure he’ll work his way up in the team. I’m already annoyed at the kind of guy he’ll be when he’s a senior.

“Hey, Ms. C,” Colt exclaims. “You’re looking good today,” his voice is flirty which is just gross and wrong on so many levels.

I keep my face neutral and blank. “Colt, I see you’re in a mood today. Let’s curb that considering you need to concentrate in class today.”

I arch my eyebrow and hope he can read between the lines. His last essay was complete trash and I’m not even trying to be nice when I think that. It’s such a shame because he’s clearly a smart kid. He could be doing really well in my class if he simply applied himself.

I’ve known guys like him my entire life. Peaking in high school is not an accomplishment.

He huffs out a laugh like I’m joking with him, but the deadpan look on my face has his smile dropping. With a slow nod he admits, “Yeah. I got you Ms. C.” He lowers his voice and something vulnerable flashes on his face. “I know I didn’t give my last essay all the focus I could have, but I like this book so much better.”

I chuckle softly and crack a smile. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. Romeo and Juliet is a little harder to get through because of the language and the use of iambic pentameter.” The look of confusion on his face has me rolling my eyes; like we didn’t cover that fully during the unit. We did, but here we are. “Guys tend to like Huckleberry Finn more.”

Colt’s eyes light up as he nods eagerly. I’m glad he’s connecting with something this year. I’ll admit I was a little afraid he, along with a few of my other students, wouldn’t be able to connect with any of the books we’re reading this year.

Teaching has always been my dream. Seeing my students connect with what I’m teaching is just as rewarding as I always thought it would be. English and reading have always been loves of mine and I was lucky enough to have some amazing teachers who really made what they were teaching come alive.

I’ve always been a little worried I would never live up to those memories and how important they were to me. But maybe I’m not doing as bad a job as I was afraid of. Getting Colt to engage with the material makes me feel like a fucking superhero, even more so than conquering PT.

As more students file in, there are bro hugs between some of the guys and tittering giggles coming from cliques of girls. I never thought that I would enjoy being in high school again, but being on this side of things is a different experience.

I would never want to be a student again. Hell, I would never want to be that age again. Trying to figure out how to navigate my limited world while building the skills I’d need to move forward in life once was enough. Don’t even get me started on the damn hormones that you have to contend with.

No, thank you.

Once the bell rings it takes less than a minute for my class to settle down. I’ve never been the teacher who gets up right away and demands their immediate attention. Ruling my classroom with an iron fist sounds like a lot of fucking work. On the other side, my students know I’m not their friend.

I’ve found a balance and I think they respect me more because of it.

Then there’s the reality that at the beginning of the year I couldn’t just jump out of my chair and start class. It would take me a moment to get up and there were days when I could barely manage to do it. Recovery might have been slow, but I can see how far I’ve come as I stand pretty quickly and walk around to the front of my desk.

A lot of my students have been cheering me on and seen the improvement as well. We don’t talk about what happened, it’s not any of their business, but they know I was hurt and that I’ve been getting better throughout the year.

As I dive into the lessen plan for the day, my students engage in discussions with each other making it clear who read the assigned chapters and who didn’t. It’s clear that the words came alive for most of my students where others are going through the motions, but not connecting.

That’s okay too. Not every book is for every reader.

“I think that’s a good point,” I interject into the discussion, trying to keep it on track. “How does that point relate to what we were talking about a few days ago—the need Huck and Jim have for freedom?”

As my students take up the conversation, I can’t help but smile. Even though I thought I wanted to teach younger kids, I would have missed out on the insights, thoughts, feelings, and perspectives of these people who are just on the cusp of finding their own freedom.

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