Hot For Teacher(123)

It’s the first time I’ve ever admitted to being weak.

She giggles. “What is it about the night that always makes the truth bubble to the surface?” Her elbow nudges mine, and I look to her eyes again. She smiles and rests her head on my shoulder. “I haven’t had a friend in a long time, either.”

Her hand finds mine, and we sit in silence.

There’s a small part of me that thinks she could be Number Ten because I can feel her walls crumbling. But then there’s another part of me that just enjoys being with her. No games, no tricks, and no speeches.

And I was thinking about Arleen not as a number, or a car, but as a person.

One I was finding myself liking a whole hell of a lot.

***

Two weeks pass. Arleen doesn’t acknowledge me in the halls at school, but every time I see her I stare until she’s walked past me.

I don’t get it.

Was there some rule that she’d made that I never heard? Is she embarrassed about being friends with me?

Because every night Arleen meets me at the ruins. Every night we go there without many words exchanged—just two people enjoying each other’s company.

My entire life has been turned upside down: I’ve canceled dates. I don’t text other girls anymore. I don’t spend my nights thinking about Miss Shields. And I’m not sure when it happened, but my desire to get to debate has shifted from wanting to go for my coach to being there for Arleen.

Will Arleen be there today? Will she speak to me? Why won’t she look at me? What secrets is she hiding?

My parents left for Fiji yesterday, and I barely noticed. Mom was courteous enough to leave me a note, but I was so eager to meet Arleen that I cut our last dinner together short and raced out the door.

I don’t even think I told them where I was going.

It’s getting rather irritating. I had liked my spreadsheets and my conquests. My endless fantasies about my teacher. Even my emotionally absent parents fit into my version of normal.

And now I’m fucked.

I think about Arleen night and day.

Other than eating and sleeping, nothing is the same. I’m completely outside of myself and I’m losing my grip.

I’ve decided enough is enough. I’m going to find out all I can tonight, and if she won’t tell me, I’m kissing this friendship goodbye and pursuing her as Number Ten.

Because, I tell myself, that is all I really wanted from her—to be the next notch on my belt. She was a means to an end.

I’m pretty sure I thought that at one point, right?





Chapter Twelve


I’m pacing the space when she enters. She’s so quiet every time she comes here, I’m beginning to wonder if she has always just been in my imagination.

“Who are you?” I bark as soon as she comes into view.

The sparkle that was in her eye when she first walked in fades and her hands begin to tremble.

“Come here, Arleen.” My tone softens. “I’m sorry if I scared you, but I can’t seem to get you out of my mind. And it’s annoying the shit out of me.”

She nods and walks to me. Her silence kills me. I can see she’s conflicted, and now I feel like a dick for demanding answers.

“I’m sorry,” I say defeated. My shoulders slouch and I reach for her hand.

“Don’t be. I can’t imagine how frustrating it is to not know anything about someone you spend so much time with. Especially since I know more about you than I care to.”

My eyes shut. “I can only imagine the shit you’ve heard.” I open my eyes and shake my head. “Tell me something. Anything. Outside of the fact that your name is Arleen Carson, I don’t have a clue who you are.”

“Sit. I’ll tell you,” she says, and sits cross-legged on the ground.

I sit eagerly and wait for her to speak.

“But you have to promise me, Simon. Promise you won’t tell a soul of what I’m about to say.”

“Of course.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

She scratches her chin, still apprehensive. “When I was eleven, my father left my mother.”

“This was in Kentucky?” I ask.

She nods and continues. “My brother and I were good kids. Never got in fights, always did our homework…” She finds a stick and draws lines in the dirt at our feet. “The same night that Dad left, Mom did too.”

I process her words, but I can’t comprehend what she’s telling me. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Seems she couldn’t bear the thought of raising us by herself. She left an envelope filled with six thousand dollars on the table, and that was it.”

“Where did you go?” I ask, harsher than I intend.