Teacher’s Pet

2

Edward Christopher.

As soon as I walked in, I recognized her. She wasn’t paying attention, her focus was on something at the table which I presume to be sketching with the pencil in her hands.

Graduating from college at a tender age of nineteen was merely the first step in a series of intellectual conquests that would define my existence. Picture a mind thirsting for knowledge, devouring books like a starving beast. That was me, a voracious reader, eager to unlock the secrets of the universe.

Quickly, my career was shot up. All across the world, I was invited as a pinnacle of intelligence to countless states, academia, and organizations where I received honorary titles and commendations. In the intellectual world, I’m known as ‘Beast’ or ‘Edward Beast’. There is no academic debate in which I have undertaken that I haven’t won.

Birken High may be a prestigious college but it is beneath me, it’s a footstool to my career. So, why, why am I here? A few months ago, I came up with a scheme with my team which we call the “academic tour.” It is one where I take a break from the normal orchestra of working with advanced institutes to focus on lower fields of learning.

High school, colleges…and more so. At the age of thirty, I already became a renowned professor. So, it would be an insult to my career if I was here for a job opportunity. In other words, this is charity but I chose Birken High because I have an assignment to play.

Her name is Alice Bethmorn.

She is a young girl whose mother used to work for my family, she was intelligent and bright—she reminded me of myself. I remember lending a vast majority of my books to her, she would read them in a week and tell me all about it. She loved being in the library and I allowed her to. Her mother was one of the housekeepers in the house and would be upset every time Alice went through the library because she thought it was unprofessional.

However, I gave Alice permission to have access to the library anytime she needed. I understood her family was poor and they didn’t have the ability to put her through a stable school. Many times, I offered to put Alice through but her mother relented every single time.

So, imagine the pride I felt when I heard she got a scholarship to Birken High. As I was overseas, she would call regularly to inform me about every single stage, and her impression of the school. I was always open to receiving her calls, I took her as a sister.

As she was in her senior year, I couldn’t wait to recommend myself on her behalf to any university of her choice.

However, I fell into complete devastation when I received a call from her mother, informing me that Alice tried to commit suicide. According to the doctors, an overdose of sleeping pills was found in her stomach. But it wasn’t just that. There were some bruises on her arm, lap…I saw the pictures her mother sent to me and tears welled in my eyes.

The doctors regarded it as self-inflicted even when there was evidence that there could be more to it. Alice’s mother reached out to me for help, she was a single mother and there was nothing she could do. The cops involved in the matter closed the case like a novel because it is Birken High, this issue was drawing attention they didn’t like.

The mayor of the state is the director. Of course, he would have the power to end the investigation. It is a school of conglomerates. I wondered if it could be self-inflicted but it didn’t sound like Alice especially when I heard that after taking an overdose, she tried to jump from the rooftop of Birken High.

Fortunately, she was stopped by a friend, Blair Birken, the girl I had my eyes on when I walked into the classroom. After pumping her stomach, Alice fell into a temporary coma and I couldn’t get any information from her whatsoever. I knew I had to make my discovery by myself.

After digging, I found out there was a group of students that ultimately ruled the school. They called them “five kings”. It comprises of five students, two boys and three girls, including Blair Birken. According to what I found it said their families are the wealthiest in the school. Apparently, control was in their hands.

Bullying. Intimidation. The first on the list was Thomas Lively, Blair’s ex-boyfriend and the one who happens to be the leader of the group on the outside. Avery Star, Gabriella Morten, and Ken Moore. However, my focus is on Blair because my investigation tells me they were close friends. By being friends with Blair, Alice also became friends with everyone in the group.

I don’t trust either of them. I have five months to spend as a teacher in Birken High and to find out what happened.

Intentionally, I took attendance after Blair was called out of the class. By doing this, she would have to come to my office and I can get to know what type of person I’m dealing with. According to my digging, she is hot-tempered, impatient, and definitive.

But I’m Edward Christopher, I don’t care about the backgrounds of these students. I’m going to get to the root of this. I hold a coffee in my hands, texting a reply to Alice’s mom as I pass through the empty hallway—paying minimum attention to where I’m heading.

As I turn to the next opening, I accidentally collide with a person. Reacting swiftly, I release my grip on the coffee, sacrificing it to the pavement, to steady her. With a deft movement, my arm wraps around her waist, preventing her from stumbling further. Our eyes met, momentarily locking in a silent exchange of surprise.

Well, shock for me. It’s Blair. I let go of her instantly when I realize how close we are. Close enough to see and know that her lashes are long, she has blue eyes that mirror a sea—lips that are glossed and the scent of her skin is vanilla.

“Mr….Edward.” She says, her eyes brightening with surprise and she averts her gaze from me after being so close to each other.

“It’s my fault, I apologize,” I say, looking at the spilled coffee on the ground. Without hesitation, Blair bends down, the hem of her uniform brushing the ground as she reaches for the scattered mess.

In the same instance, my reflexes mirror her own as I lean to clean my mess. Our hands converge in the air, fingers brushing against each other in a fleeting touch that sends a jolt of electricity through my veins.

Startled, she glances up, meeting my gaze and I feel her breath on my face. Blair lets go of the cup first and I pick it up. Turning back, I exhale and find the nearest bin to dispose of it. Afterwards, I walk back to her.

“I’m Blair. I wasn’t able to introduce myself earlier.” She says, and I nod my head, taking a quick note of her.

Her school uniform is crisp and neat, draped elegantly over her slender frame. Her hair is long, it cascades down her back, parted meticulously into two sleek sections that frame her features.

I could tell instantly that her complexion is like porcelain, pale and flawless. As she speaks, there is a curve on her lips, the gentle slope of her nose, and the depth of her blue eyes.

“Is…is there something on my face?” Blair asks, and I chuckle.

“No, Blair. It’s nice to meet you. Um…in your absence, the class signed an attendance.” I say.

“Yes, I heard…I was just coming to your office.” She replies.

“Shall we then?” I ask and she nods lightly. I take the first step, leading the way to my office. With a gentle creak, I open the door, and the rich scent of polished wood fills the air.

The walls are paneled with dark, mahogany wood. Sunlight streams through the windows, casting a golden hue over the room and illuminating the wooden floorboards below. The soft hum of the air conditioner is in the background.

There is a large wooden desk at the center of the room, its surface is cluttered with papers and books, evidence of my busy schedule. Behind the desk, shelves line the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes and antique knick-knacks.

Yes, I may be here for only five months but I have unique taste. And as per my status, Birken High did not fail to fulfill my request.

Blair enters with cautious steps, eyes darting around the space.

“The school designed a room for you?” She says and it sounds like she’s shocked.

“They don’t normally do that?” I ask, going through my table and picking out the attendance booklet.

“Absolutely not.” She responds, folding her hands.

“Well, I’m not just any teacher,” I say, glancing at her and she squints her eyes.

“Well, this isn’t just any school.” She says, walking towards me and I hand her a pen.

“It is to me,” I reply and she scoffs. At this rate, I want to know if she’s impatient and easily irritated. Blair collects the pen from me and signs her name on the attendance.

“Are you married?” She asks and I look at the finger on my hands.

“I’m engaged to be,” I answer and she looks at me, closing the booklet. Why is she asking me that? Why did she look into the details of my fingers?

“Mrs Crooks, the last teacher put down your name in her records for failing to come for a test. So, for that, you currently have an F.” I say and she scoffs, her eyes glaring back at me.

“Excuse me?” Blair retorts.

“You heard me. You can leave now.” I say and she slams her hands against the table. A smirk feathers on my cheek, it was quite easy to make her flare up.

“I am always allowed to retake a test! Mrs Crook always allows it.” She seethes, she demands like a spoiled brat.

“You mistake me for Mrs Crook. Please, leave.” I say, walking around her to clean the stacks of paper at the other corner of the desk.

“Do you know who you are talking to?” Blair asks, her voice is cold—I’m definitely treading on something.

“The door is right there, Blair...” I say.

All of a sudden, with a fierce grip, she seizes the collar of my shirt, her fingers trembling with a mixture of fury and she pulls me with a forceful tug. The fabric strains against my neck as her emotions fuel her actions.

I swiftly break free from her grasp, the fabric slipping through her fingers like sand. In an unexpected turn, I push her back against the edge of the table. Caught off guard, she stumbles backward, gasping as her body collides with the surface of the table.

“I don’t care who you are…”

“I don’t care who you think you are. If you ever disrespect me in any manner, I will make sure it’s your last mistake.” I say, pressed against her to pass a threatening message.

But then, I quickly realize it’s a mistake. I am standing in between her legs, in a position that is wrong but feels right.