Page 4 of Saving Tracey
I tensed up and flinched away as the teacher put her hands on our desks. She was way too close for comfort, and I could feel sweat beginning to build up on my back.
Back up. Back up. Please back the fuck up.
"She won't cooperate," Kaleb told the teacher. Fucking tattle-tale. "Could you get her to cooperate with me, please? I really need this grade,” he begged her.
"Give him another partner,” I retorted before she could say anything to me, just wanting her to move back from my desk and give me some space.
She sighed and leaned in a bit closer. I scooted back in my seat a little. I didn't like people being close to me. It put me on edge.
And this teacher was way too close for comfort.
I felt like being sick. My heart was beating so fast that I thought it might just beat right out of my chest and fall into my lap. My palms and back began sweating even more.
Please, just back the fuck up, I begged silently.
"Tracey, I'm not re-assigning partners. Work through your differences. That's the whole point of this assignment,” she told me in exasperation.
She walked away, and I blew out a breath of relief that she was finally gone and that I had my personal space back. I put my head on my desk tiredly.
I couldn't do this project. I couldn't hang out with him. I couldn't tell him anything about me.
If my dad found out that I was interacting with him, even for a stupid project, I would be beaten to within an inch of my life, if I even managed to fucking survive it.
"Have you ever played any sports?" Kaleb asked me a moment later, refusing to give up.
I sighed.
He really was a persistent mother fucker, wasn’t he?
I figured the best way to get rid of him would be to just answer his stupid questions. It wasn't as if he could ask anything harmful, right? I always covered my bruises and scars, and so long as he didn't notice those, then there shouldn't be any reason for him to ask any dangerous questions.
I pushed past the aggravation that I was feeling and shook my head at him. "No. I've never played sports," I told him honestly.
"Have you ever wanted to?" he asked me as he studied me, which was extremely unnerving.
I looked over at him for a split second, noting that he was writing things down about me as I spoke to him.
Fucking lovely.
In answer to his question though, Ihadwanted to play sports when I was a kid. I had wanted to play tennis, and I had wanted to learn to dance. I remember when my dad would work late when I was little, I would use one of my books and hit a tennis ball I had found at school back and forth at my wall.
However, as I got older, I realized I couldn't ever play a sport. My lifestyle didn't allow for anything, really.
And definitely not for tennis, I thought grimly, my mind flitting to the tennis skirts and the bruises covering my legs.
"Yeah. I wanted to play tennis,” I admitted softly.
Kaleb watched me carefully, his eyes running over my face. I quickly turned my head away from him and made sure my hair hid my face from him. I hated feeling like he might look right through me and see what I so desperately tried to hide from the world.
"Why didn't you ever play? You look like you have the physique for it."
Physique.
Now that's a word that would probably never be used in my vocabulary.
"I had other things to tend to," I told him evasively.
He changed the subject after that, realizing pretty quickly he wasn't getting much more from me on that subject. "How come I've never noticed you before?" he asked me bluntly, making me freeze up as he asked one of the questions that I had been dreading him asking me.
