Page 31 of The Teacher
“I saw you in the restaurant,” he says. “That’s your mother, right?”
A little thrill goes through me at the idea that Mr. Bennett noticed me, even in the crowded dining room. “Uh-huh.”
I wonder if it’s okay to be talking to him in this isolated area. If someone saw us here together, they might get the wrong idea. The last thing I want would be for Mr. Bennett to end up like Mr. Tuttle.
He cocks his head to the side. “Are you okay? You looked like you were having a pretty bad day earlier.”
That is a massive understatement, but honestly, I don’t want to complain about Kenzie and her friends right now. I don’t want him to think of me as some loser who is getting bullied by the popular kids. “Sort of.”
“What happened?”
“It wasn’t a big deal.” I try to laugh, to show how not upset I am about what happened, even though it’s phony. “Some kids in gym threw my clothes in the shower, so everything got soaked.”
Mr. Bennett winces. “Jesus, that’s awful. Who did that to you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“You can tell me.” When I don’t say anything, he raises his eyebrow. “I can keep it between us.”
I really can’t tell him, even though I like the idea of me and Mr. Bennett sharing a secret. No matter what he says, he’s still a teacher, and he might talk to Kenzie if I tell him about it. And if I rat her out, she’s going to be worse. The last thing I want is for Kenzie to hate me more. I’m better off taking her abuse.
“I don’t know,” I repeat.
His brown eyes hold mine for a moment, and a little thrill goes through me. I’m not sure why though. Maybeit just feels nice to have a teacher on my side again. Oranyoneon my side again. After the whole thing with Mr. Tuttle, it feels like everyone hates me.
“I’ll tell you what,” he says. “The rest of the class has another homework assignment today, analyzing a poem we talked about in class. But I have special homework that I want you to do tonight.”
If Mrs. Bennett—or really any other teacher—said that to me, I would have been horrified. But right now, I’m intrigued. “Okay…”
“I want you to write an angry letter to the person who took your clothes,” he says. I start to protest, but then he adds, “Not a poem, but a letter. You don’t have to use their name, but I want you to get out that anger. Let your anger out on the page for me. Tell me what you want to do to this person.”
“What I want to do?”
He bobs his head. “Exactly. Write a revenge letter. Tell me what you would do if you had five minutes alone with this person and nobody would ever know.”
He has no idea I’ve got Kenzie’s house keys in my backpack. I imagine what would have happened if I had snuck into her bedroom and waited for her in the closet. I might have actually had five minutes alone with her. And let me tell you, those five minutes would have involved some serious payback.
A smile twitches at my lips. “Okay.”
I can already imagine what I’m going to write:
You have everything in the world. And you are in a relationship with the greatest guy I’ve ever known. But you don’t deserve any of that. What you deserve is to get your eyes scratched out. No, that’s too good for you.
“Anyway,” he says, “it looks like you’re having a nice meal with your mother.”
“Yeah.” I rub at the back of my elbow. “And, you know, I hope you’re having a nice night with Mrs. Bennett.”
For a moment, his eyes cloud over. “It’s her birthday.”
I’m not sure what that means exactly. “Oh.”
“So yeah.” He lifts his shoulders. “It’s fine. The food here is good.”
Oh boy. I wasright.
Mr. Bennett isn’t having a good time with his wife. My impression of her in class is more accurate than I thought. She is not someone who goes home and then immediately becomes this super nice person who is totally different from the way she is at work. She’s a legit awful person. Mr. Bennett doesn’t like being married to her any more than I like having her as a teacher.
That’s why instead of using the empty men’s room and hurrying back to his table to be with her, he has been standing out in the hallway talking to me for the last five minutes.
