Chapter 8 - Isaac
Saturday is my day of rest. It’s the only act of defiance I allow myself against this suffocating town. I don’t check my email, I don’t answer my phone, and I don’t think about the past—or at least, I try not to. It’s the only day where the ghosts quiet down long enough for me to breathe.
I could’ve escaped them a long time ago if I had been able to bring myself to leave Viridian Falls. Even now, I don’t think I could.
Sunday, though, the silence ends.
I spent the day grading papers, including Jackson’s that I assigned him after he acted out in class.
I suppose I can’t blame him, even if I am a bit surprised by the attitude he’s been hiding behind his responsible student persona.
I’m not proud to say that I’ve leaned into the image of me I’m sure he sees now.
I’ve been a lot harder on him lately, and I can see how it seems like I’ve been picking on him.
Targeting him. Driving that wedge a little deeper between the mutual respect we had before.
I’ve told myself the reason is because I don’t trust him.
My past haunts me and still holds way too much power over me.
Admittedly, the paper he turned in was good.
I was expecting something half-assed, written at the last minute, maybe even turned in late.
Instead, it was thoughtful, articulate, and far better than he seemed to think he was capable of.
It was a contrast between the flood stories of Gilgamesh and the Bible, not just in structure but in moral tone, and he wrote about how both could be read as acts of divine disappointment.
I wasn’t planning on giving him an actual grade for it since the assignment was meant to be a punishment, but I would have felt guilty considering the work he put into it. So I caved and entered it in the system as extra credit.
A small concession I’ll probably regret later.
He handed the assignment in on Friday evening—physically on my desk like I told him—just as I was getting ready to leave my office, as if doing so at the last minute was an act of defiance in itself.
Maybe we have more things in common than I thought.
It’s Monday morning, and I’m heading out of my office on the way to my first class of the day.
I’m hoping that Jackson hasn’t looked at his online chart and doesn’t mention the grade for that paper because then I’d have to admit how good I thought it was.
And I need to keep the distance that’s been growing between us.
“Why do you have to be such a fucking dick?!”
Judging by Jackson’s voice coming from around the corner, I’m about to have another excuse to do just that.
When I round the corner, I see two of Pierce’s friends attempting to pull Jackson off of him from where he has him shoved against a wall in the hallway.
They manage to haul him back, and I notice there’s an angry red mark blooming across his jaw.
My own jaw clenches tight. At least there’s no blood this time.
I never imagined Jackson as confrontational, but when someone provokes you enough, the limits of what we thought we’re capable of can change.
I happen to know that from experience.
“At it again already, boys?” I ask, keeping my voice calm.
Pierce’s buddies release Jackson as I approach, but Jackson clearly couldn’t give a shit that I’m there as he lunges for Pierce again.
“That’s enough,” I snap as I grab onto Jackson’s upper arm. “What are you? Children? You’re both adults, so fucking act like it.”
“He started it again, Professor,” Pierce says with a pathetic pout on his face as he straightens out the creases in his shirt.
“I’m sure he did.”
I’m sure he didn’t.
However, I’m once again in a position where I’m forced to go against my better judgment. Pierce deserves to be reprimanded as much as Jackson does.
Unfortunately, nothing has changed.
I can already feel the invisible noose tightening, the same one that’s been around my neck since the tenure committee made me their pet project. I can’t afford to cross Professor Grant. Then again, I’m not sure if I can afford to test my luck against Jackson’s father either. But…
The lesser of two evils.
“You’re a fucking dick and a liar,” Jackson sneers.
“Enough,” I say again as I spin Jackson around back in the direction I came. He trips a bit before he rights himself. “My office, Mr. Ellis.”
He yanks his arm out of my hold, picks up his bag off the floor, and stalks off down the hall ahead of me.
With one last look back, I arch a brow. “I’m sure you boys have a class to get to?”
They all nod, and I don’t miss the sly smirk on Pierce’s face as he turns away. Shaking my head, I follow Jackson down the hallway. He’s already waiting outside my locked door with his arms crossed over his chest by the time I catch up. His eyes are turned down, his jaw ticking.
I unlock my door and step inside, closing it as soon as he’s followed me through. He remains silent as I round my desk to stand behind it, still not looking up.
“Nothing to say for yourself?”
“What does it matter? You’re not going to believe me anyway.” Finally, he peers up, his gaze hard just like it’s been every other time he’s looked at me these last few weeks. “Or maybe you would and wouldn’t give a fuck.”
“Watch it,” I tell him, my voice coming out low and menacing.
I swear I see a shiver go through him.
Placing my bag in my chair, I lean over with my palms on my desk, not taking my eyes off him. “I don’t want to see you in my class for the next week.”
“What?” He drops his arms to his side. “I’m already behind from my last suspension.”
“Then you should’ve thought of that before getting into another fight on campus.”
He opens his mouth, but I beat him to it.
“Would you rather me report you again?” I ask, raising one brow in a challenge. “The punishment for repeat offenders who engage in physical altercations on campus is usually expulsion. Possibly criminal charges. How far do you think your father’s reach goes? Do you really want to test it?”
His shoulders slump, and I almost feel bad for him. Almost.
When he says nothing, I take that as acceptance.
I’m not stupid. I know Pierce was the one to instigate those fights, even without having seen how they started. It figures my luck is so fucked that I’d walk in on both damn fights. I wish I could do the right thing, but I’m backed into a fucking corner here.
I can keep this from turning into a similar situation as five years ago so long as I keep my head and continue to hold onto this emotional distance I’ve forced myself into.
Jackson is not Dylan. While Dylan had blond hair, Jackson’s is inky black. While Dylan had big brown eyes, Jackson’s are an emerald green. I have to believe they’re dissimilar in other ways too. I tell myself those differences matter, that they’ll keep me from repeating the same mistake.
Even still, I find myself attracted to him. I have for a while. To his gorgeous smile, his brilliant mind, his desire to learn.
But, now, I fear that attraction would lead me once more into a dark pit, one I wouldn’t be able to climb out of a second time.
I can’t feel bad. I can’t feel anything.
“I want you to write another paper for me too.”
“I’m going to start falling behind in my other classes with all this extra work.”
Again, I raise a bow, daring him to argue one more time.
He takes a breath, letting it out through his nose like a bull wanting to charge. “What’s the assignment this time?”
“How about an analysis on the consequences of pride in Gilgamesh?”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Am I going to get extra credit for this one too?”
My jaw clenches, and my eyes narrow. Of course he had to see.
“Not this time.”
“Fine.” He turns to the door. “I’ll have it done by the end of the week.”
“Jackson.”
He looks over his shoulder with his hand on the knob.
“Put some ice on that,” I tell him, nodding at the mark on his jaw that’s already starting to bruise.
He huffs and opens the door. “Like you care.”
The moment he’s gone, I release a sigh.
I care more than he knows. More than I should.