Chapter 2The Teacher's Revenge

Our eyes met. Chills down my spine. I played it cool.

This time, he knew nothing. I could stop it all.

"New kid. Anyone want to sit with him?"

He'd started late. Already twenty. Built big. Face like it went through a meat grinder.

Dead silence. No volunteers. Then Megan, class rep, raised her hand.

"Ms. Summers, I'm class rep. I should set an example. I'll sit with him."

Megan's face? Kind. Honest. Just like I used to be.

I shot her down cold:

"Heard your grades sucked before transferring. Don't want to hold Megan back. Take that empty seat in the back."

Plenty of spots open. I'd picked the worst option.

He looked shocked. Like he couldn't believe I was throwing him under the bus.

Ethan's lips twitched. He mumbled:

"How... Ms. Summers looks so nice. Why's she picking on me too?"

Every word made my skin crawl.

After class, I bolted to the staff room. Back soaked in sweat. Didn't even notice as I chugged scalding tea.

Mind racing. Quit now? Run?

I'd fought hard for this job. Sleepless nights studying. They never switch teachers in senior year. Not with finals coming.

Why give it all up because of him?

I sat there. Dazed. Until home time.

Michael picked me up. Waited half an hour in his car.

Saw me coming. Rushed to open the door. Pulled me close.

"Babe, you look terrible. What's wrong?"

His familiar warmth. I lost it. Sobbed like crazy.

We've always been solid.

Last time, we fake-divorced. To protect me from the hate. Moved to a new city. Fresh start.

Later, when he saw how broken I was? He went after Ethan. Knife in hand. But Ethan used his grandma as a shield.

Michael got played. Bled out on the street.

Now? Looking at his handsome face? No tragedy yet?

I wiped my tears. Forced a smile.

"It's nothing. Just feeling off. Let's go home."

Michael wasn't buying it. Dragged me straight to the hospital.

Couldn't talk him out of it. An hour later, rush blood test results. I was pregnant.

Turns out, I was already carrying Michael's baby.

When he found out? Michael swept me up. Spun me around.

"Babe, this is amazing! We're having a baby!"

"Hope it's a girl. A mini-Olivia. Beautiful and sweet like you."

I smiled through tears. Made a silent promise.

This time? I'd protect our happiness. No matter what.

Next day, I went to class as usual. Voice still hoarse. Brought a clip-on mic.

Loud voice drowned out my messy feelings. Didn't even look his way. Just taught like normal.

Few quiet days passed. Then Thursday afternoon. Just finished my last class. Heading to the staff room.

Group of girls blocking my path. Helping Ethan along.

He'd been roughed up. Reeked of toilet water. Bruises everywhere. Limping worse than ever.

But I knew better. This poor-me act? Just a mask. Hiding the monster underneath.

He was strong. Never fought back. Let the bullies have their way. Never made a sound.

Long, dirty nails. Left hand a mess. Skin peeled off his index finger. Nasty wound.

"Ms. Summers! Ethan got beat up! His finger's skin is falling off! What do we do?"

Girls in our class. Always playing hero. Standing up for the underdog.

Ethan gave me puppy dog eyes. Nose scrunched in pain. Oily sheen made me want to gag.

"Help me, Ms. Summers... please."

I was about to brush them off. Send him to the nurse. Then Jenny, our class monitor, spoke up:

"Ms. Summers, don't you have a first aid kit in your office? Nurse's office is so far. Maybe we could patch him up real quick?"

I paused. Looked at his pleading eyes. His bleeding finger.

Bell rang for next class. I nodded.

"Alright, come with me. Rest of you, get to class."

Ethan's lips curled. Barely noticeable smirk.

He followed me to the office. Class time. Place was empty.

Casual as can be, I opened the first aid kit. Took out tweezers and gauze.

"Sit down. I'll bandage you up."

Wind rustled the curtains. Seashell wind chimes tinkled softly. I gently cleaned his wound.

He suddenly blushed.

I asked, "What's wrong?"

"Ms. Summers, you're... you're really pretty."

Ethan's face turned red as a tomato. Stammering out the compliment. Then his eyes glazed over. Staring at my collarbone.

While he was distracted, I smiled. Plunged his whole finger into the bottle.

Raw, bloody finger. Now submerged in nearly full bottle of medical-grade ethanol CH3CH2OH.

"Gotta disinfect properly, right?"

He was horrified. Trying to pull away. Face twisted in pain.

"It hurts! Ms. Summers, it really hurts!"

But I kept smiling. Grip tight on his wrist. Wouldn't let go. Bottle's narrow opening practically swallowed his finger.

Held it there. Until blood turned the whole bottle red.

He'd bitten his lip bloody. Eyes bulging. Staring at me in shock.

For the first time, I saw real hate in his eyes.