Page 8 of Wicked Scandal

Shaking my head at him, I make my disappointment in his sarcastic attitude known, but I also don’t make a fuss about it. I’m really not in the mood to argue with the guy who everyone defends, even when he’s nothing but a bully.

I look at Rome’s brother, Wilder, wondering how these two are even related, let alone twins who shared a womb. Their personalities, and even looks, are complete opposites. Rome has lighter hair and blue eyes, while Wilder has dark hair and light brown eyes. Rome is outspoken and slightly obnoxious, whereas Wilder is mature and kindhearted.

Wilder catches my gaze and a rush of heat shoots through me as if I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. In reality, I’m just thinking too much. I’m always thinking too much. My mind never stops thinking.

I blink my eyes away from him, knowing in just two more weeks the seniors will be done with this class and I’ll never see ninety percent of them again.

That’s not true, actually. I’ll be seeing Wilder, Rome, and Elodie frequently since last night their dad made his official announcement that he’s running against my husband in the mayoral election. Six months of campaign work, debates, fundraisers, advertisements, meetings. All of which Troy expects me to attend because it’s my duty as his wife.

Troy has served Willow Creek for two consecutive four-year terms and he thinks he has this in the bag. I personally think he should be scared. Grant Cromwell will not go down without a fight. He’s a successful businessman who’s been on the city council for as long as I can remember.

Needless to say, the rest of this year is going to be brutal with the upcoming election. I’ve already prepared myself to be on the receiving end of my husband’s wrath. Though, once it’s over, and Troy wins, he’ll be an entirely different person. One that, at times, I think I could love again. Until he’s not that person anymore and I’m reminded why I hate him so much.

If he doesn’t win, I can’t imagine how he'll react. He’s never not won. I shiver at the thought of what that nightmare might look like for me.

I push away thoughts of my misery and focus on the here and now. This is where I love to be. Teaching students about literature and exercising the imagination. It might not have been the path I would have chosen for myself had the choice been mine, but I make the best out of what I have been given. I can make a difference here. At this school, students look up to me. I am needed in a way that doesn’t feel demoralizing.

As I look out over the classroom full of students, I can’t help but remind myself that getting to be here and out of that damn house is a blessing.

“Continuing our discussion on symbolism.” I tap on the open tab on my laptop, displaying the screen on the whiteboard. “Who can give us an example of symbolism?”

I look around the room, observing the lack of participation from what I call “my senioritis class.”

Fortunately, there are a couple students here that are still eager to learn. Elodie raises her hand immediately, much like she does with any question I ask. “Yes, Elodie.”

“A great example of symbolism is the heart being a symbol for love.” She blushes as she looks at her boyfriend, Rome. He stretches his arm out and puts it around her shoulders as he sinks comfortably into his chair.

I wonder what that feels like—to have someone adore you like that. To catch them watching you in amazement as if you just hung the moon. That rush of excitement when you see them after being apart for any amount of time. The sound of their voice speaking to your heart while butterflies flutter through your stomach.

I long for that and it’s a deep fear that I’ll never have it again. When Troy saved me, I felt that. The way he tried to shield me from the world so I no longer had to fight so damn hard. It wasn’t until I realized he only did it for his own selfish gain. Find the damsel and save her, but keep enough evidence that you can destroy her in case she ever wants to run away.

It’s a tale as old as time. But no one tells you that the prince who rescued the princess was really another dragon in disguise. He saved me just to lock me in a different tower.

“Is that…wrong?” Elodie asks, pulling my attention back to the subject at hand.

“I’m sorry. Yes. That's a great example. Thank you, Elodie.”

I click the touch pad on my laptop, going to the next page. “The example Elodie gave us is a general symbol. It’s obvious and clear.But oftentimes in literature, the symbols are more subtle. Who can tell me what this form of symbolism is called and give an example from the book we just finished, To Kill a Mockingbird?”

My gaze wanders in search of any hand that is not Elodie’s, even as she’s waving it in the air, stretching toward the ceiling.

I catch a pair of eyes staring back at me as if he doesn’t want to answer, but also pities me for standing here talking to myself because no one is listening except him and Elodie. Wilder lifts his hand and I point, smiling back at him. “Yes, Wilder. Thank you.”

He straightens in his seat, his eyes locked on mine. “The mockingbird, of course. It’s a specific symbol.”

“That’s right. Do you care to explain how the mockingbird represents specific symbolism?”

Wilder deepens his gaze on mine as if he’s searching for the answer in my eyes. “The mockingbird is a symbol of innocence,” he says. “Specifically the innocence of the characters. To kill a mockingbird is to kill innocence.” When I smile, he relaxes in his chair, pleased with his response.

“Thank you, Wilder.” I tap the touch pad again, moving to the next screen.

We continue our discussion and time seems to move too quickly. The next thing I know, the bell is ringing and students are packing up their things so fast I almost forget to mention the exam.

“Our test on symbolism in conjunction with our reading will be on Friday. Be sure to study, and reread if needed,” I practically yell as they rush to the door.

Everyone scatters, some fleeing before I even finish. Others linger as they gather their belongings.

I’m preparing my notes for the next class when Wilder approaches my desk. I see him before he even stops, but I continue to click on my laptop so I can get things ready before students start piling in again.

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