Wicked Scandal (Misfits #2)

Chapter 2

CATHERINE

“If everyone could find their seats, we’ll get started.” I stand up from my chair behind my desk and smooth my hands down my burnt orange turtleneck dress. It’s not fitting for the weather, considering it’s supposed to hit seventy degrees today, but it’s raining so I won’t have to be outdoors.

My eyes skim the crowd of students who are now seated, all but one. “Rome.” I clear my throat, eyebrows raised as he continues to chat among his classmates. “That means you, too.”

Rome scoffs before kissing his girlfriend, who is also his stepsister, on top of the head. It’s a weird situation but also none of my business. To each their own.

Rome drops down beside Wilder, stretching back in his seat with his hands folded behind his head. “Happy?”

Shaking my head at him, I make my disappointment in his sarcastic attitude known, but I also don’t make a fuss about it. I’m really not in the mood to argue with the guy who everyone defends, even when he’s nothing but a bully.

I look at Rome’s brother, Wilder, wondering how these two are even related, let alone twins who shared a womb. Their personalities, and even looks, are complete opposites. Rome has lighter hair and blue eyes, while Wilder has dark hair and light brown eyes. Rome is outspoken and slightly obnoxious, whereas Wilder is mature and kindhearted.

Wilder catches my gaze and a rush of heat shoots through me as if I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. In reality, I’m just thinking too much. I’m always thinking too much. My mind never stops thinking.

I blink my eyes away from him, knowing in just two more weeks the seniors will be done with this class and I’ll never see ninety percent of them again.

That’s not true, actually. I’ll be seeing Wilder, Rome, and Elodie frequently since last night their dad made his official announcement that he’s running against my husband in the mayoral election. Six months of campaign work, debates, fundraisers, advertisements, meetings. All of which Troy expects me to attend because it’s my duty as his wife.

Troy has served Willow Creek for two consecutive four-year terms and he thinks he has this in the bag. I personally think he should be scared. Grant Cromwell will not go down without a fight. He’s a successful businessman who’s been on the city council for as long as I can remember.

Needless to say, the rest of this year is going to be brutal with the upcoming election. I’ve already prepared myself to be on the receiving end of my husband’s wrath. Though, once it’s over, and Troy wins, he’ll be an entirely different person. One that, at times, I think I could love again. Until he’s not that person anymore and I’m reminded why I hate him so much.

If he doesn’t win, I can’t imagine how he'll react. He’s never not won. I shiver at the thought of what that nightmare might look like for me.

I push away thoughts of my misery and focus on the here and now. This is where I love to be. Teaching students about literature and exercising the imagination. It might not have been the path I would have chosen for myself had the choice been mine, but I make the best out of what I have been given. I can make a difference here. At this school, students look up to me. I am needed in a way that doesn’t feel demoralizing.

As I look out over the classroom full of students, I can’t help but remind myself that getting to be here and out of that damn house is a blessing.

“Continuing our discussion on symbolism.” I tap on the open tab on my laptop, displaying the screen on the whiteboard. “Who can give us an example of symbolism?”

I look around the room, observing the lack of participation from what I call “my senioritis class.”

Fortunately, there are a couple students here that are still eager to learn. Elodie raises her hand immediately, much like she does with any question I ask. “Yes, Elodie.”

“A great example of symbolism is the heart being a symbol for love.” She blushes as she looks at her boyfriend, Rome. He stretches his arm out and puts it around her shoulders as he sinks comfortably into his chair.

I wonder what that feels like—to have someone adore you like that. To catch them watching you in amazement as if you just hung the moon. That rush of excitement when you see them after being apart for any amount of time. The sound of their voice speaking to your heart while butterflies flutter through your stomach.

I long for that and it’s a deep fear that I’ll never have it again. When Troy saved me, I felt that. The way he tried to shield me from the world so I no longer had to fight so damn hard. It wasn’t until I realized he only did it for his own selfish gain. Find the damsel and save her, but keep enough evidence that you can destroy her in case she ever wants to run away.

It’s a tale as old as time. But no one tells you that the prince who rescued the princess was really another dragon in disguise. He saved me just to lock me in a different tower.

“Is that…wrong?” Elodie asks, pulling my attention back to the subject at hand.

“I’m sorry. Yes. That's a great example. Thank you, Elodie.”

I click the touch pad on my laptop, going to the next page. “The example Elodie gave us is a general symbol. It’s obvious and clear.But oftentimes in literature, the symbols are more subtle. Who can tell me what this form of symbolism is called and give an example from the book we just finished, To Kill a Mockingbird?”

My gaze wanders in search of any hand that is not Elodie’s, even as she’s waving it in the air, stretching toward the ceiling.

I catch a pair of eyes staring back at me as if he doesn’t want to answer, but also pities me for standing here talking to myself because no one is listening except him and Elodie. Wilder lifts his hand and I point, smiling back at him. “Yes, Wilder. Thank you.”

He straightens in his seat, his eyes locked on mine. “The mockingbird, of course. It’s a specific symbol.”

“That’s right. Do you care to explain how the mockingbird represents specific symbolism?”

Wilder deepens his gaze on mine as if he’s searching for the answer in my eyes. “The mockingbird is a symbol of innocence,” he says. “Specifically the innocence of the characters. To kill a mockingbird is to kill innocence.” When I smile, he relaxes in his chair, pleased with his response.

“Thank you, Wilder.” I tap the touch pad again, moving to the next screen.

We continue our discussion and time seems to move too quickly. The next thing I know, the bell is ringing and students are packing up their things so fast I almost forget to mention the exam.

“Our test on symbolism in conjunction with our reading will be on Friday. Be sure to study, and reread if needed,” I practically yell as they rush to the door.

Everyone scatters, some fleeing before I even finish. Others linger as they gather their belongings.

I’m preparing my notes for the next class when Wilder approaches my desk. I see him before he even stops, but I continue to click on my laptop so I can get things ready before students start piling in again.

“Did you need something?” I ask. I glance up at him, not wanting to feel like he towers over me the same way Troy always tries to. Except, when his dark gaze connects with mine, fear isn’t what rushes through me. Instead, it's a feeling of comfort.

“Umm. Yeah, actually, I do. I need to ask a favor.”

My eyebrows pinch as I try to think of what he could be about to ask. “A favor?”

His hand shoots up to scratch the back of his head, much like his brother does when he’s nervous. It’s the only mannerism they really mirror in each other. But Wilder is different. With Rome, it looks like he is trying to flex his muscles to distract people. With Wilder, it’s as if he is just genuinely nervous. His fingers tangle in his ruffled hair and I find myself smiling. His apprehension is odd for someone so confident and smart. “So you probably heard my dad is running for mayor…”

I slam my laptop closed, the snap echoing through the room. I’m not sure why I did it, but I did. I suppose the word “mayor” just took me by surprise. Anything that involves Troy makes my guard go up instantly.

Wilder’s posture stiffens at my sudden outburst. “Everything okay?” he asks, alert and wide-eyed.

Keeping my cool, I force a smile on my face. “Yes, everything’s fine. And that’s wonderful news about your dad.”

“It is?” he asks, surprised at my response. “With your husband being the current mayor and all, I guess I just thought…”

His words trail off, but he doesn’t need to finish. I know it’s an unlikely situation. Wilder is my student and his father and my husband are now opponents, what I consider, a fierce competition. I say fierce because I know Troy, and he is not going to make this an easy feat for Grant Cromwell.

“It is wonderful news,” I tell him again. “The position is open to all residents of Willow Creek. I think your dad is a worthy contender. Look, Wilder.” I stand up, moving from behind my desk because I’m feeling restless—uncomfortable, even.

These elections always heighten my nerves and even discussing it with Wilder has me on edge. If Troy knew I was talking with anyone about it, let alone his opponent's son, I can’t imagine how he’d react. He might try to take away my position here, and I can’t let that happen. I need this place; it’s my only escape.

A wide smile spreads across his face, his shoulders visibly loosening as he exhales. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.”

“I’m glad,” I tell him. “This doesn’t have to be awkward. May the best man win.” I tilt my head slightly to the left, crossing my arms over my chest as my nails dig into the fabric of my sweater dress. I need to be composed right now or he will know something is wrong. He always knows. And I hate having to lie to him every time he asks if I’m okay.

“You mentioned needing a favor. Does this have anything to do with the reading material this week?”

“Actually, it doesn’t have anything to do with class. You see, my dad asked me if I’d help out with his campaign. Speeches, news articles, that sort of thing. In fact, I already got an email this morning from his campaign manager, Jillian.” He snaps his fingers. “You probably know Jillian, right?”

I nod. “I know who Jillian is. She worked with Troy, err, Mayor Jenkins his first year.” I shake my head, not wanting to divulge any more information about Troy and his job. I draw back my shoulders, chin up. “She’ll do great work for your dad.”

“I’m happy to hear that. Anyways, Jillian has already sent me over some notes for an article being published this Thursday that my father wants me to write.” He chuckles as he continues, “Me. Can you believe it? I’m not even out of high school, yet my dad wants me to handle something this big. Crazy, right?”

“That’s amazing, Wilder,” I tell him excitedly. “I have no doubt you’ll do impressive things in this position. You’ve always had a knack for entertaining the public eye.”

I speak the truth. What Wilder is taking on is a big task, but I know he’ll do incredible work for his dad. Though, I can tell by the look on his face, he doesn’t feel the same way.

He sighs heavily. “That's what my dad said, but I can’t help but feel like I’m gonna screw this up for him.”

I press my lips into a flat smile. I feel so conflicted. On one hand, I don’t want to talk about any of this with him. On the other, it’s so nice to be talking with him. “You’re an intelligent young man who is eloquent with his words. Give yourself more credit.”

He chuckles airily. “Also what my dad said. Anyways, I was sort of hoping maybe you could help me out with this article being printed Thursday. I don’t know the first thing about politics and?—”

I can feel the sweat start to bead on my forehead as he begins to ask the question I know will end up getting me killed if I agree. My heart rate speeds up and my vision gets blurry.

I can’t breathe, I can’t see…I… “I can’t,” I blurt out, moving quickly behind my desk to shuffle through papers as I try to calm my nerves. My hands are trembling as the panic attempts to consume me, but I refuse to give in. I can’t fall apart in front of a student, not this one especially. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to ask someone else.” My voice nearly cracks, but I hold it together.

“But you were so helpful with that essay last fall and I know you’d?—”

My voice rises unintentionally. “I said no!”

The air stills. Tension hangs heavy in the room to the point I have to loosen my turtleneck because I feel like I can’t catch my breath.

A few seconds of silence pass and I finally look at him. He’s perplexed—at a loss for words. That makes two of us.

I don’t know what’s gotten into me these last couple days, but it seems every day something catches me off guard and I react impulsively. I’ve always done such a good job at holding myself together, but lately, I feel like pieces of myself are scattering.

“I’m so sorry, Wilder,” I say with sympathy in my tone, trying desperately not to let him hear how afraid I am. “I didn’t mean to react so harshly. It’s a conflict of interest. You understand, right?”

“Yeah.” He nods, lips pressed tightly. “Yeah. I get it. It was dumb of me to even ask.” He gives me a low wave and a crescent-moon smile. “See ya tomorrow, Mrs. Jenkins.”

I watch as he walks away, shoulders slumped in defeat. I wish like hell I could help him. I care about Wilder. I care about all my students. There’s just no way I can do what he’s asked. Troy would blow a gasket if he knew I was helping his opponent with his speeches.

Then again, what he doesn’t know won’t kill him. Not that I would care if it did.

No. I can’t, and I won’t. It’s too risky.