11. Will
WILL
Iwas having a fantastic day, at least by my usual standards. Three students were absent, including Julian, and I’d made it through all my reading groups during explore time for the first time all year. So I was pretty surprised when Principal King stepped into my classroom.
“I need to see you in my office,” she said, her expression unreadable.
“Now?” I glanced down at my kids, who, for once, were sitting on the carpet like angels.
“Yes, now.” She stepped aside, and Mrs. Hernandez, the movement teacher, slid in. “Sorry to change your schedule, friends, but today is your lucky day. You’re getting two specials.”
The kids cheered, and I walked out of the room, heart pounding. Did something happen to Julian? Is he going back into foster care?
King opened the door to her office, and I stopped short when I saw the elderly Black woman sitting on the leather sofa, her expression severe behind a pair of red-rimmed glasses.
“William,” King said, “this is Superintendent Spencer.”
“Hi,” I croaked as my mouth went dry. Am I about to get fired? I could hear noise outside, like a protest or picket line.
King strode over to the window and parted the blinds. “This is an elementary school, William, not The Real World.”
I blinked in confusion. What was going on?
The phone rang on King’s desk, but she ignored it. “To be honest, I’m surprised you’ve gotten away with it this long.” She sat and beckoned me to my usual chair.
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry. I think I’m missing something. Gotten away with what? Is this about Ryan? Because I’m not dating him. I barely know him. He just gave me a ride home.”
“Have you checked the internet in the last few hours?” King asked.
“No, I’ve been teaching.”
“There was another article, William, and it’s not good. It even mentions the school.”
She spun her monitor toward me, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. There, under the headline “UNFORGIVEN!” was a photo of Derek and me in Enrique’s living room. The moment looked exactly as mortifying as it had felt—wine seeping through my shirt, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on my face.
“There is a sizable crowd forming outside,” King said, “and between the press and concerned parents, the phone hasn’t stopped ringing all afternoon.”
As if on cue, the phone rang again.
I placed a hand on my chest, trying to stop my heart from pounding.
It was just like last time. No matter how many times I changed my number, they always found a way to reach me, to twist everything I said and did into something gross and self-serving.
Who even took that photo? No one was supposed to have their phones at the party.
King spun the monitor back before I could read the article.
“There are only a few weeks left in the school year,” she said, “and we think it’d be in everyone’s best interest if you took a short leave of absence, at least until everything settles down. You have more than enough sick days to cover you.”
“You’re firing me?” My throat felt full of sand.
“No, William. I’m not firing you. I’m asking, as someone who cares about you—and believe it or not, I do—for you to voluntarily take the rest of the year off.
If not for your sake, for your students’.
Superintendent Spencer’s already OK’d it.
It won’t affect your pay or benefits, or anything like that.
It’s just a leave, like maternity leave or a sabbatical. ”
“But my class—”
“Your class will be fine. Mrs. Hernandez will cover for the rest of the year.” King flicked on her electric kettle. “Is there someone you can call?”
“What? No. Why?” I wanted to look out the window but couldn’t move.
“Ms. Smith usually drives. Maybe she’d let you borrow her car or give you a ride home.
Or, I can call you a cab.” King sighed, genuine sympathy in her eyes.
“It’s not just the press, William. There are a lot of angry fans out there, too.
I don’t think it’s safe for you to take the subway home.
” She placed a second mug beside her own.
I stared at the floor and probably would’ve started crying if I hadn’t spotted the purple marker on my white tennis shoes. So that’s what Brianna had been doing under the table.
“I’m making you some tea,” King said. “Would you prefer Jasmine Green or Earl Grey?”
I didn’t answer. I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly.
“I was really moved by your performance in The Beautiful,” Superintendent Spencer said, speaking for the first time. “You’re very talented. And I know it may not feel like it now, but this isn’t about punishing you. It’s about protecting the kids.”
I walked back into my classroom and was greeted by a thousand bids for my attention. I addressed what I could and ignored the rest. Then I did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed my guitar and invited everyone to join me on the carpet. It was time for our closing circle anyway.
“I have some sad news, friends.” I smiled, holding back my tears. “Something has come up, and I have to go away for a few weeks. I’m so sorry, but I’m going to miss the end of the year.”
I scratched an itch on my cheek, only to realize it was wet. “But Mrs. Hernandez is going to fill in for me. She’s going to keep you safe and make sure you have a lot of fun. And I’m going to miss you so much.”
I couldn’t stop the tears any more than I could stop Brianna getting up to hug me.
It was against the rules, but I didn’t ask her to sit back down.
I just hugged her back, and five seconds later they were all up, all twenty-two of them, huddled around me, crying.
Even Mrs. Hernandez had tears in her eyes.
I never should have gone to that fucking party.
“Let’s sing our closing song one last time.” It took a minute to get everyone seated again, and I found myself looking around my classroom, committing it to memory, even the huge gash on the smartboard, and then we sang:
Now it’s time to say goodbye
I’m going to look you in the eye
And tell you I’m going to miss you
Now it’s time for us to go
I’m going to smile and let you know
Just how much I’m going to miss you
So take my hand and let me down easy
Because you’re my Mario and I’m your Luigi
I’ll get you a tissue if you’re feeling sneezy
I’ll help you breathe if you’re feeling uneasy
And when we’re far apart
I’m going to keep you in my heart
And I’ll see you again soon
Like the sun, the stars, the moon
“Do you want me to come up?” Tiffany asked.
“No, I’m fine.” I just wanted to climb into bed and pass out.
At least the paps didn’t know where I lived. Not yet, anyway.
I retrieved my guitar from Tiffany’s trunk and hurried into the building. I pressed the elevator button, and as I waited, I closed my eyes and tried to remember how much bourbon was left in the bottle.
“William, is that you?”
I spun around and found James walking toward me in a baseball tee and faded red trucker hat, looking like a blue-collar dream. I didn’t mean to stare, but come on! Most of my favorite pornos started just like this.
“It is you,” he said, answering his own question. “Just the man I was looking for.”
I stared blankly back in utter confusion until I remembered the shirt. “I’ve got it upstairs, but it’s totally fucked. Sorry.”
“What’s totally fucked?”
“Your shirt.”
“Forget about the shirt. How are you?”
“Me? I’m fine.”
James tilted his head to the side and cocked an eyebrow. “Are you really?”
“Listen, I get you’re my new daddy and all that, but you don’t need to be so nice to me. I’m sure my mom will still buy you a sports car.”
“What?”
I turned and stepped into the elevator. Now that I knew James was my mother’s new houseboy, it explained a lot, like why he’d approached me at the party and why my traitorous dick was hard.
My mother and I had almost nothing in common, except our taste in men, and she’d really outdone herself this time. James was the whole package—rugged, handsome, and charismatic.
“I’m not dating your mother,” he said, following me into the elevator.
I shrugged. Not yet, maybe.
“What are you doing home so early?” Miles asked, shutting off the TV. “It’s not even four.”
I set my guitar down. “Hold on a sec. I’ve got to give James back his shirt.”
“James is outside? Why didn’t you invite him in?”
I ignored Miles and retrieved the shirt from my closet. “Here you go,” I said, stepping back into the hall. “I bet you can get some good money for that on eBay.”
James let out a nervous laugh. “Nah, I think I’ll just keep it.”
I shrugged. “Okay, well, have a good night.” I started to turn away, but he reached out and gently gripped my arm.
“I’m sorry about the article, man. That was bullshit. You didn’t deserve that.”
His hand was warm and comforting, but I pulled free. “It’s fine. I’ll get over it.”
“No, dude, it’s not fine. Stop pretending everything’s fine all the time. Sometimes, things aren’t fine.”
Was this guy for real? Dad pep-talking me? “Listen, I know you mean well, but you can knock off the dad shit. You’re, like, two years older than me.”
His eyes went wide, like I’d slapped him. “I’m not—”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I don’t know why I just did that. Ignore me. I’m having a—”
“Stop apologizing. You have every right to be upset. That article was total BS.”
I sighed. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Look, I’ll put a good word in for you with my mom. But right now, I just need to go inside and get drunk.”
His nostrils flared, and a vein pulsed in his forehead. “That’s not why I’m here. I just wanted to check on you.”
“Okay, well, now you have, and as you can see . . . I’m fine.”
“So you’ve said.” He rocked back on his heels, and I expected him to leave, but he didn’t. “So, have you decided? Are you coming up to Vermont for the summer?”
“I’ll probably have to now.” There was no way I could go anywhere in the city without being photographed and harassed—maybe even assaulted. Rural Vermont was probably my best bet.
“What does that mean?”
“It means . . . You know what, forget it.”
“Just come up, then. It’ll be fun. I’m from Vermont, so I can show you around. Do you like cliff jumping? There’s an old granite quarry not too far from the house.”
“Did you just ask if I like cliff jumping?” Jesus, James was going to be even worse than Sergio, Mom’s ex who used to drag me rock climbing with him.
“Yeah, it’s fun, and we can start you small, like with some of the ten-footers.”
“Ten-footers?”
“Please just come to Vermont. I promise you’ll have a good time.”
He could promise all he wanted, but this summer was going to suck ass—and not in a fun way. There was a reason I didn’t still live with my mom and her endless parade of boy toys.
“I’ll think about it.”
He took a step closer, and before I knew it, he was hugging me. The hard line of his body pressed against mine, and the clean, cologne-free scent of his skin washed over me. It was sweet and a little tangy, like an overripe apple.
“Just don’t give up, okay?” He gave me one last squeeze and then let go.
I decided to bypass the booze and nose-dive into my pillow instead.
“Are you sick?” Miles came into the room and gingerly stepped over the books and dirty clothes littering the floor. “Want me to make you some soup or something?”
I pulled the pillow over my head. “I’m fine. I just want to lie here and feel sorry for myself.”
“Did James say something to piss you off?”
I shook my head. Screw James and his stupid beard and unsolicited hugs.
The mattress caved under Miles’s weight. “Is this about Ryan taking your part? Just say the word, and I’ll make your dad give it to you. You took ten years off, just like he asked you to. It’s the fucking least he could do.”
“He’s dying.” I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, even Andy, but there it was. My dad was dying. I was never going to make him proud or prove him wrong. We’d never be in a movie together like Jane and Henry Fonda. If that article in Star was any indication, I’d probably never act again.
“What?”
“The cancer is back.” I tried to hold the pillow in place, but Miles was too strong. “It’s all very top secret, so don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin his master plan. He’s got a plan, you know. He’s finally going to win that fucking Oscar.”
“What?”
“It’s all very method. His character is dying in the movie, so it’ll play a lot better on screen if he’s actually dying in real life.
Sure, he could probably do chemo again. It worked last time.
But his character is dying of Alzheimer’s, and chemo doesn’t treat Alzheimer’s, so it just wouldn’t make sense. ”
Miles set a hand on my leg. “Are you serious?”
“It’s kind of stupid, though, don’t you think? He’ll be dead long before the Oscars, so what does it matter? He won’t know if he wins.”
“Fuck, dude. That’s why he’s so hell-bent on you going up to Vermont this summer? Why didn’t he just give you the part, then?”
The answer was obvious. “He doesn’t want me ruining his last chance to win an Oscar. And with Derek in the movie, he can still pretend he’s doing me a favor.”
“Jesus, that’s fucked up.” Miles lay down beside me and spooned me. “Are you going to go?”
I pulled my alarm clock onto the bed and shut it off. Wouldn’t need that anymore. “I think I might have gotten fired today.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, she can’t technically fire me. I haven’t done anything wrong.
But she can still make my life a living hell until I quit.
She’s forcing me to use my sick time for the rest of the year, and then next year, if I try to come back, she’s going to stick me with fifth graders.
Do you have any idea how big and scary fifth graders are? ”
“They’re, like, what, ten or eleven?”
“Exactly.”
“But aren’t there only a few weeks left? Why is she making you use your sick time now?”
“I take it you haven’t read Star today. Someone at the party got a shot of Derek’s girlfriend giving me the diva slapdown.”
“What? That’s impossible. No one had their phones. I would’ve noticed if someone was taking pictures.”
I pulled the pillow back over my head.
Miles didn’t move or speak for several minutes, and I thought he’d fallen asleep, but then he asked again, “Are you going to go?”
“He’s my dad.” Of course I was going to go. I’d tell him everything he needed to hear, like how he was definitely going to win this time and how he’d probably get a standing ovation.
But when I wasn’t blowing smoke up his ass, I was going to get to the bottom of what really happened the night of the Golden Globes. Why had Derek said all those horrible things to me? Pathetic fuckboy? I’d practically been a virgin back then.
It made no sense. What could Derek possibly have said or done to make me want to hurt him? Was it really just rejection? Had I really taken it that badly?
Bottom line, if one drunken night was going to dictate the rest of my miserable life, I had a right to know why.
I sat up. “Do you know where that bottle of Glenlivet Scotch my mom got us ended up?”