Page 84 of Love Takes Home

“Where did you hear this from?”

“From my girlfriend’s friends.”

“Do you even have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah. I have a girlfriend.”

“Well, has anybody actually tried to text Lucas?”

“A couple of us did this morning. He didn’t reply.”

“Maybe he’s sick. Or hurt.”

“There’s obviously something wrong with him.”

“I say it’s something because he’s like a terrorist or something.”

At that point, I walk away, rolling my eyes. The way the teenage mind works gives me a headache. When the bell rings, I breathe a sigh of relief that I made it through the first period. And when second period starts, Linda shows up for her Ginny-watching shift.

Everyone loses their shit because there’s another teacher in here with us, and why is there another teacher with us today, and does that mean she’s teaching the music class today? I decide to make it a jam session, allowing each student to perform whatever they want, like an impromptu concert for their classmates. I have to admit, it goes over well, and I don’t have to play, so the watch isn’t an issue.

At lunchtime I meet Mrs. Weaver and we sit in the corner of the teacher’s lounge, away from everyone else. And I prepare myself to do very little talking.

“Oh, I’m just so happy that you could eat lunch with me today. I just feel like we haven’t caught up in so long. How was your summer? Was it okay? Was it bad?”

“It was fine,” I assure her.

“I’m so glad to hear that because you know all these people in this community. Just talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, and I mean, all they do is gossip.”

I smile and nod my head.

“I can’t believe some of the things that they were saying. I ran into one of the nurses who was working when he was brought in. She said that he was knocking on death’s door, and that he was just brokenhearted and inconsolable that you would walk out on him.”

“That’s interesting since he didn’t know I had left when he had the accident.”

Her eyebrows threaten to arch off her face. “Are you serious?”

“He was late. He hadn’t made it to the church, and no one knew yet,” I tell her, leaning in close.

“That son-of-a—” she cuts herself off. I just smile at her. “Well, wouldn’t that change the narrative?”

“Wouldn’t it, though?” I nod, agreeing.

She laughs. “I really don’t like him.”

“You and me, both, friend.”

“I mean, he just always has this look at about him, like he’s gonna go off the rails any minute. I have to ask, was he mean to you?” she whispers her question.

“He wasn’t always nice.” I’m not trying to protect him, but the thought of putting myself out there like that is embarrassing. Letting people know I stayed in that kind of relationship is not something I want to talk about any more than I have to.

“Oh, I just knew it. I’m so glad that you got away from him.”

“I’m glad, too.”

“Now, if we could just get him out of this school. I think he’s detrimental to the children’s health.”

If only I could tell her how right she is.

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