Bad for You by Weston Parker
28
BRITTANY
School wasn’t going well for me today. We’d only gotten back from the weekend a couple of days ago, but it already felt like our time at the coast had been a million years ago.
Something was going on with Lou, but I didn’t know what it was. He’d been acting out all week, and things were coming to a head today. The other kids were literally giving him a wide berth by walking around him, but that didn’t stop them from taunting him from afar.
Apparently, one of them had even thrown a granola bar at him during recess. No one had owned up to having been the one to do it, so Beckett had let them off with a warning and sent them back to class.
The atmosphere in the room was so thick I could almost taste the bitter malice in the air. It didn’t matter what I did, it just wouldn’t ease up.
Kids kept glowering at him, whispering and pointing behind their hands and textbooks. I called them out on it every time, but that was only making the situation worse.
Eventually, even Lou snapped at me to just stop it. I could practically see the rage and turmoil brewing in his eyes as he sat behind his desk with his fists clenched in his lap. So far today, he’d broken several beakers in science, punched his lab partner, screamed uncontrollably for a few minutes, and was refusing to eat or drink anything.
Beckett said he’d tried to get hold of Ms. Thurston, but she wasn’t taking his calls. Usually, that would mean a visit to the guidance counselor’s office or being kept away from the other children somewhere else.
Since the guidance counselor was out for the day and none of the other staff members were willing to supervise him in a different room, he was still here with me. I slogged through my lessons, but I doubted the students took anything in.
Whatever was going on with Lou, it was obviously big. Something was clearly wrong, but he wouldn’t talk about it. His behavior and attitude were disruptive, and the other students seemed determined to make him pay.
I had to help him. I just still didn’t know what to do. During the last hour of school, I asked Shelley to keep an eye on my class and stepped out to try and get a hold of Ms. Thurston myself. I called her from the front office, but there was no answer.
“I’ve been trying all day,” the receptionist said. “We’ll have to talk to her when she comes to pick him up.”
If she comes to pick him up.
I sighed, running my hand absently through my ponytail over my shoulder when Beckett strode out of his office. He stopped when he saw me, turned abruptly away from wherever he’d been going, and marched up to me.
“You’re going to have to watch him,” he demanded. “We can’t have him on the playground outside with the others this afternoon for the aftercare program, and his mother is still unavailable.”
“What if she doesn’t show up?” I asked. “I think he usually walks home, but I’m not sure.”
He shrugged. “We have evidence of all the calls we’ve tried to make to her. Just watch him. Once the bell rings and school’s out, he’s not our responsibility anymore.”
I gaped at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious.” He leveled a glare at me, cocking his eyebrow as if he was waiting for me to challenge his authority. “That boy is trouble, Ms. Cleaver. The guidance counselor has contacted a social worker, and we’ve been in touch with her, but these things take time.”
My heart contracted painfully in my chest. “A social worker? Why?”
“We don’t have the ability to deal with children like him in this school. Since his mother isn’t being cooperative, we’ve done what we had to do.”
“Who’s the social worker?” Maybe this was the way to help him. If I could just talk to this social worker, maybe I could work with her, and we could try to get Lou through whatever was going on together.
“I’ll have Marge send you her details. Since you’re his teacher, she was going to have to speak to you anyway. You will cooperate with her investigation, Brittany. Do I make myself clear?”
“As daylight,” I said. “I’ll stay with Lou and speak to the social worker when she contacts me. If his mother doesn’t show up, can I give him a ride home later?”
Beckett’s dark brows knitted together, his head tilting to one side as he thought. “The boy can walk home. If you want to offer him a ride and he accepts, you have my permission to take him. Straight home, though. No detours, and I’m only agreeing because it might aid in the social worker’s investigation if someone from the school can get eyes on what’s going on in that house.”
Of course he wouldn’t just have given me his permission to give Lou a break for once, but his motivation didn’t matter. Obviously, we wouldn’t be able to get parental consent for anything today which meant Beckett could agree. I couldn’t let Lou walk home in this state, though. There was no telling what he would get up to on the way or whether he would be targeted by some of the other kids who were bullying him so much worse than usual this week.
I nodded my agreement to Beckett’s terms, then headed down the corridor back to my classroom. Before I got there, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and put in a call to Tristin.
“Hey, you,” he said, his voice warm and relaxed. “This is a surprise. Did school did get out early today?”
“No, I’m still here.” I spoke softly as I passed the other rooms. “I have to cancel our date tonight. One of my students has been going through a very tough time, and I want to see if I can talk to his mom about it.”
“Is everything okay?”
I exhaled a quiet breath and shook my head, even though I knew he couldn’t see me. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t quite know what’s going on, but I think it’s bad. We’ve had lots of problems with his behavior before, but things are escalating. It’s gotten to the point where the school has called a social worker.”
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Want me to come with you? We don’t know what you’d be walking into, and you never know, I might be able to help too.”
I was skeptical, but I gave in after he spent another few minutes convincing me. “The truth is, I can use all the help I can get with him, but be gentle, okay? We can’t push him into anything, and we can’t force him to tell us what’s going on.”
“Yeah, okay. This is your last hour, right? If I leave now, I should get there not too long after the bell goes. Wait for me.”
We hung up just as I got to my classroom, and I slid my phone back into my pocket. With a sense of trepidation about what was to come this afternoon, I opened the door and stepped into the room.
Shelley had assigned the students reading, and I left them at it while I sat behind my desk and massaged my temples, wondering what I was possibly getting myself and Tristin into. As the bell rang, I said goodbye to the others and then pulled Lou aside.
“I’m going to drive you home today,” I said calmly. “Is that okay with you?”
He just shrugged instead of giving me any real answer, trudging back to his desk and collapsing with a heavy thud in his chair. “I’ll wait for you here.”
“Sure, you can do that,” I said, going closer and leaning against a desk only a few away from his. “Or you and I can pack up and talk outside for a little while. Maybe you can tell me what’s going on with you under the trees?”
He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Don’t want to talk.”
Respecting his wishes, I backed off. Lou opened up to me when he was ready to do it, and if he wouldn’t open up today, I would just have to keep trying.
The door opened a few minutes later, and Tristin stepped inside. His dark hair was styled in that way only guys could get right, where I just couldn’t tell whether they’d rolled out of bed that way or if it had taken an hour to achieve the look.
His eyes were soft but alert, the color of caramel in the afternoon light. Having just come from the office, he was wearing a suit, but he’d left his jacket behind, gotten rid of his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and had even opened the top few buttons of his shirt.
Under any other circumstances, I’d have been drooling over the business-casual look and probably begging him for a midday quickie right here on my desk, but not today. I was too worried about Lou and too apprehensive over what we were going to find when we got to his house.
“Lou,” I said. “This is Tristin. He’s my friend, and he’s going to hang out with us for a bit this afternoon. Tristin, meet Lou.”
The boy lifted his head, his gaze curious as he looked at Tristin before flicking it toward me. “Is he the friend who got you the flowers?”
I nodded. “We’ve known each other a very long time. Is it okay with you if he hangs out a bit and maybe comes with when I take you home later?”
“Hi, Lou,” Tristin said, leaving the classroom door open behind him.
He grinned at me but dropped into a chair near Lou’s desk instead of coming over to greet me. I appreciated that he didn’t try to hug or kiss me in front of one of my students, but I really would’ve loved having his arms around me right about now.
“How’re you doing, buddy?” he asked, keeping his tone light and cheerful. When it became obvious Lou wasn’t going to reply, he sat back and jabbed his thumb at his chest. “It’s okay. I get it. I’m having a tough day too. Being a grown-up sucks sometimes.”
“Being a kid sucks more,” Lou grumbled, but at least he peeked up at Tristin now instead of glaring at his desk. “Why are you having a tough day? You don’t look like someone who has tough days.”
“Some people might hide it better than others, but everyone has tough days,” he said. “Mine has been rough because of work. There’s a lot to do, and I’m kind of new there, so people are having trouble talking to me. It makes it difficult for me to do my job if they can’t be straight with me about what they need.”
“Are you the boss?” Lou asked inquisitively, slowly coming out of his shell now that he wasn’t the topic of discussion.
Tristin nodded. “I am, but because I haven’t been there for that long, I don’t know yet what my people need if they don’t talk to me. So you see? Tough day. Tough month or so, actually.”
It surprised me that he was being so candid with Lou, but the boy seemed to sense that he was being honest. He’d probably gotten used to being put on the spot and yelled at by adults who never really bothered to talk to him. He seemed to take an immediate liking to Tristin for treating him differently than he’d become accustomed to.
“That does sound tough,” he said after searching Tristin’s face for a second. “You look like a person who’s fair. I’m sure it will get better for you soon.”
The way he said it made it clear that while he thought things would get better for Tristin soon, he didn’t believe the same thing about himself. When Tristin glanced at me, there was such profound sadness in his eyes that I realized he must’ve come to the same conclusion I had.
It was heartbreaking to hear that tone of absolute resignation from a child. Lou wasn’t supposed to sound so defeated when he was still so young.
It took Tristin some time, but he worked hard at getting Lou to crack a smile. Eventually, though, it happened while Tristin was telling him about the planes he used to fly. I’d never known it, but Lou was super clued up and passionate about airplanes. Since I’d been skeptical about letting Tristin come, it was ironic really that their shared love of things that go zoom in the sky was eventually what seemed to help Lou the most.
They talked for almost an hour before Tristin stood up. “It’s not a plane, but I drove here in a sports car. A Maserati. Would you like to see it?”
Lou’s mouth dropped open, and he nodded enthusiastically, scrambling out of his desk and grabbing his backpack all in one movement. “I don’t only love planes. I love cars too. And trains.”
“You and I are going to get along very well, then,” Tristin said. He motioned for Lou to precede him, then waited for me to pack up all my things before following us out into the hallway.
When we got outside, I watched as Lou scoured over every inch of Tristin’s car for at least fifteen minutes. They were inside and out, popped the hood, the trunk, and even revved the engine a few times.
There weren’t many people left on this part of the property at this hour. Most of the sports facilities were on the other side of the school to the parking lot, and everyone else had gone home, but a few passersby looked our way. None of them, not even the ones I knew had been glowering at Lou earlier, looked at him with anything other than awe when they saw him with Tristin and his showy car.
It made me shake my head, but it also made me grateful that Tristin had come. A little while later, both guys looked at me.
“Can I get a ride home with Tristin?” Lou asked, eyes wide and pleading as he pressed his palms together in front of his chest.
“It’s fine with me,” Tristin said but darted a glance at the school behind me. “If it’s going to cause trouble, then I’ll drive behind you to his place and ask his mom if I can take him for a spin when we get there.”
As I looked into Lou’s eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to say no. I knew we could get in a world of trouble for this, but I’d gotten permission to take him home, so maybe we would be okay. It was a stretch, but I could always say I’d never specifically said who would be driving or that we would be taking my car.
Willing to risk it if it meant Lou was happy for even just a few more minutes, I nodded. “Sure. Let’s go in your car. You’ll have to bring me back here after so I can get mine, though.”
Lou whooped, and Tristin gave him a high five. Once we were in the car, I made sure Lou was buckled up nice and tight in the back seat. My heart raced as we drove out of the parking area, but when it didn’t look like anyone was left here to take note of the car Lou was being driven home in, I relaxed.
Was I bending the rules? Yes. Was it worth seeing the megawatt grin on Lou’s face? Hell yes. The boy deserved to feel a little joy, and Tristin was a good driver. I trusted him to get us to Lou’s safely, and that was really all that mattered.
Regardless of what was waiting for us when we got to Lou’s house, at least I’d go home knowing that we’d made him happy—even if it was just for a few minutes.
The closer we got to his house, the more reserved he became. My stomach twisted itself into knots at the bleak look that crept into his eyes as we turned onto his street. I might still not know what we were about to walk into, but I was more convinced than ever that it wouldn’t be good.
