Page 28 of Lesson Learned

My uncle told me to be grateful. If not for him, I would have rotted in one of the group residential homes they occasionally drag across a few news cycles. And while I am grateful that wasn’t my life, I couldn’t help indulging in what-ifs on occasion.

Like what-if a couple who genuinely wanted a child had taken me instead?

They’re my family but they’d never step up to help me. Not like this virtual stranger.

A virtual stranger who had his dick inside you.

But that thought just turns me onto my side, curling my knees to my chest, letting those fragments of memory roll through my brain, igniting a plethora of tingles.

There aren’t enough.

And you’re not adding any more.

I sit up, easing out my shoulders. They’ve been held tense all day long and now they’re stiff even when I’m trying to relax.

I can’t believe he’s my teacher. I hadsexwith myteacher.

The thought should give me the ick but I’m not talking about Mr Johnson with his oversharing and combover.

Mr Bradley’s been here for one day and there are probably another dozen students dreaming of doing exactly the same thing I’ve already done. An observation that, no matter how accurate, isn’t the point.

It isn’t happening again. The sooner I put it behind me, the better.

To get myself fully back on track, I start a list.

Marnie takes first position. Not only do I need to reassure her I’m good with this outlandish scenario, but I must convince her not to say anything, not a word, or it will place me in peril.

And it’s not a lie. If the board finds out I’m supplying fake IDs to a good portion of the senior year, they won’t hesitate to boot me.

I pluck at the skin of my throat, staring blankly at the wall. Until now, it had seemed a sensible way to earn the funds I need for purchases above what the scholarship supplies. But I might have to cool it a bit, just focus on the essays. The last thing I want is to have my opportunity snatched away.

There’s no answer at Marnie’s door so I head to the library, the next most likely place. She’s not a gossip but just the chance she’ll spill the news to somebody in an offhand comment lends a sense of urgency.

I spot her from the entrance and wave but she’s not looking my way. Her focus is on Floss.

Cue the first surprise that Floss is in the library—I didn’t know she knew we had one.

Cue the second surprise, Marnie looks like she’s about to punch her in the face.

“Hey,” I mumble as I walk up to them. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” Floss says in a defeated voice, shaking her head. “I was just leaving.”

She strides towards the exit, hands fisted as she walks.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask Marnie, recalling there was tension between them this morning, too. “Or should I hold her steady while you get in a retaliatory punch? I think you’re owed at least one.”

Her grim expression shifts into a strained smile, and I get the same rush of concern I had this morning before my teacher stole my focus.

“Should I take you to the clinic and see if we can get your pain prescription upgraded?”

She giggles, then puts a hand up to the bandage. “Ow. Now I can’t even wrinkle my nose without it hurting.”

“See? We should get there immediately.”

“Or I could open that bottle of wine my stepmother sent me for my birthday.” She lifts her shirt and takes a pinch of skin between her fingers and sighs. “Maybe not. That’s far too many empty calories.”

I catch a glimpse of the bruises again, battling a rush of dull rage that the boyfriend whose job it is to lift her up is instead dragging her into a morass of self-doubt.

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