Till Eternity (teacherxstudent)

Chapter 4: I Don't Want to See You

My chest tightened. It is so unfair. My first kiss was stolen by some guy I never loved, and what’s more, it meant nothing. I thought a girl’s kiss was supposed to be magical, enough to make one fall head over heels – or does that only happen in movies? I was scolded by yet another teacher that day for not paying attention. I don’t get it, some people can spend the whole class talking and giggling and messing around, yet no one will even think twice about reprimanding. Though, abnormally, their top-grade student spaces out once and it is like the worst of all sins. I closed my eyes and wished for this nightmare to be over. However, all that resulted in was me getting scolded once more for ‘lackof conduct’.

Thankfully, however, that was my last class of the day. I picked up my books from the locker -of course, being interrupted by some funny guy who slammed the door shut on my hand, as always – and walked out with my head low and the need of sighing weighing on my shoulders. While just earlier the vast sky from the rooftop appeared grand and gleaming blue, suddenly the whole world appeared gray. Yet, my head stopped throbbing from my own self-pity once I heard two girls in front of me talking.

“Did you have class with Mr. Jones today?” one of them said.

“The other’s eyes gleamed as she grabbed her friend’s arm in excitement. “Yeah, I did!”

“Oh my God,” they both squealed, “he’s so hot!” All that was left was for them to drool.

“I know, right? And I could totally see his abs through his shirt.”

I shivered and cringed at their conversation. Thankfully, they soon turned into another street and I no longer had to listen to their gruesome gossip. However… is he really that good-looking? I shook my burning face in attempt to cool it down. No, that does not change anything.

“Deb!”

A repugnant chanting interrupted my thoughts and froze my heart. Though my feet were not affected by the frost of his call; they fastened their pace without looking back for even a second. But I could hear his footsteps, and they quickened as well. My heart pounded. Shortly after, he caught up to me – after all, I have never been good at anything that required physical aptitude. Mr. Jones rested his hand on my shoulder as he pretended to catch his breath, as if catching a snail would even break a sweat for him. I rolled my eyes. He then held up a familiar object.

“You forgot your lunch bag up on the rooftop.” He handed it to me.

Suddenly, and unwillingly, the other girls’ words floated across my mind in the most inopportune manner. I blushed and looked away as I snatched my bag from his hand. “Thanks.” I murmured almost inaudibly. It was without a doubt that he noticed my blushing, and he smiled.

“Let’s walk home together?” he said innocently.

I grimaced at him, but he clearly decided to ignore it. I quickly need to come up of a way to get rid of him.

“You’re as quiet as always, aren’t you?” he said amusingly. “Though I remember you used to talk to me no matter how shy you were with others. Emerson and I were the only ones you could talk to back then. Don’t you miss those times?” I scowled at him and Mr. Jones’s cheerful eyes saddened in response.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” his face brightened up once more. “Here, I got this for you.” He smiled and handed me a book. I stared at its cover and memories of happy times crossed my mind before being savagely ripped apart by a stolen kiss. “I remember how much you wanted me to lend it to you, so--”

Mr. Jones stopped talking as soon as he noticed the murderous glare I had aimed at him. I pressed the book against his chest and ran off.

He just stood there.

My feet trampled on one another, but I kept going until he was out of sight. For a moment, the image of him standing and watching me in the distance haunted me. Why didn’t he try to stop me? He keeps annoying me ever since he returned, so why did he just watch me leave? Tears flowed from my eyes, making a mess of my exhausted face from running. I slammed the door to my room and threw myself onto my bed, crying.

---

The next few days, for the first time in my life, I skipped school. My mother always leaves for work before I get up and she only comes back at night, so hiding it from her was not a problem. All because of that i***t I spent the rest of the week cooped up in my room doing nothing but reading and studying. If it weren’t for the attendance sheets, I am sure no one would notice my absence anyways.

That Friday night, the ringing of the doorbell interrupted my studying. With my mother already home, I shrugged it off as probably some sort of vendor. Thus, I let her answer the door before me, which probably did not make her that happy from the start.

“Deborah!” she yelled and confirmed her level of annoyance.

“Your teacher is here to see you!” she called from downstairs.

That made me pause, a teacher…? I then froze and my eyes widened. The only teacher that would ever think of checking up on me is… You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Send him away, I don’t want to see him!” I yelled back, later realizing how this would backfire later.

“Deborah Judy!” I shivered as my mother’s tone raised, though she refused to say my last name, not daring to be reminded of a certain man. “Watch your manners and come downstairs this instant! Deborah!”

I remained silent and hid in the closet, holding the door shut. Moments later, I could hear their muffled voices.

“I sincerely apologize,” she now had her business tone on, “I’ll go get her.” Crap-

“No, that’s fine. I’ll take my leave. Sorry for intruding.”

Shortly after, I heard the door click shut. I celebrated during the few seconds that preceded my inevitable punishment. I recoiled as much as possible inside the closet and wished I could become invisible. Knowing me too well, my mother flung the closet door open and her high heels struck my head. I covered my face, but that could not protect me from her slaps and berating.

The final object that flew onto my head was a book. I picked it up once my mother left the room. The Count of Monte Cristo. He really was determined to give this to me. I don’t get it. He speaks as though he wants the past to be forgotten, but then hands me a memento filled with memories. I flipped through the pages as I wondered about the meaning behind it. At that moment, a yellow piece of paper slipped out and fluttered onto the floor. It slid out of the closet and I chased it on my knees. Picking it up, I recognized the messy handwriting upon it.

I’m sorry, I lied.

‘I lied’? What is that supposed to mean?