Chapter 9 #2
The name changed everything. A ripple of recognition passed through the class, the boys suddenly respectful, eager even. I barely knew what to make of it.
My nerves hummed like a taut string, vibrating with the tension of pretending to be someone I wasn’t. But my training kicked in, a steadying force. The familiar routine settled over me, comforting and real.
By the time the bell rang, my head spun with names and faces and the intensity of it all. It was almost too much; the pressure of proving myself, of living a life I didn’t know I could have.
Lunchroom duty was as isolating as I had feared. The cafeteria buzzed with noise and movement, kids shouting and laughing, their voices clashing with the clatter of trays and chairs. I stood by the door, awkward and out of place, unsure where to begin.
The other teachers were nowhere to be seen, leaving me to monitor a sea of unfamiliar faces. The sense of being alone pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating.
I watched the children as they ate, their energy unchecked, without any proper authority. The assignment felt like a punishment, a reminder that I didn’t belong. Karen’s handiwork was all over it.
A group of boys crowded around me, their questions fast and relentless. “You Menace’s girl?” “Are you gonna teach here forever?” “Where’d you come from?” I answered as best I could, the noise swallowing my replies.
Their curiosity was exhausting, a constant reminder of the fragile lie I was living.
The lunch period dragged, the minutes stretching into an eternity. My determination burned bright, a defiance against the doubt that threatened to swallow me whole. I would prove myself. I would survive this.
But as I watched the chaos around me, I knew I had to be careful.
The stares cut like glass as I entered the teacher’s lounge, conversations halting mid-sentence to twist into hostile silence.
I felt their eyes like daggers, my back tense under the scrutiny.
The air was heavy with distrust, suspicion dripping from every corner of the room.
I fumbled with my lunch, trying to ignore the weight of their disdain.
Sitting alone at a small table, I felt the edges of their coldness creeping in.
Then, a pretty dark-haired teacher with curly hair came over to my table.
I couldn’t believe she dared to break ranks.
She had a wary smile on her face. “Sawyer, right?” She asked, her voice a tentative offering. “I’m Gabby.”
I exhaled, the relief in my voice impossible to hide. “Hi.” My smile was cautious, a fragile attempt at connection.
She sat down across from me, her expression open and genuine. She was a few years older than me, with a warmth that seemed out of place in the icy room. “You’re new, huh?”
I nodded, unsure how much to reveal. “First day.” The words were heavy with more meaning than I wanted them to have.
She looked over her shoulder, her gaze lingering on the cluster of women watching us from the far side of the room.
“Don’t mind them,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“They’re Karen’s favorites. Kind of territorial.
I literally call them ‘the Karens,’” she said with a quiet laugh.
She put her finger to her mouth like she was telling me not to tell.
Her observation cut to the core of my own fears, the ones that said I would never belong, never be one of them. “I noticed,” I replied, forcing a lightness I didn’t feel.
Gabby’s presence was a comfort, a flicker of warmth in the sea of hostility. “Where’d you come from?” She asked innocently but pointed.
“Around,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I’m with Menace.” His name slipped out, a barrier against the invasive curiosity of the others.
Her eyes widened, then softened into understanding. “Oh hell! Are you the girl? The other one that was rescued when the Luna was rescued?” The look of surprise was genuine.
I shrugged. “That’s me.”
“Well, you landed in the right spot, girlfriend. Most women around here would have loved for Menace to have rescued them.” Her smile was friendly.
I watched the other teachers as they whispered their glances like knives.
A part of me hated to lie to these people.
I didn’t like being dishonest. It wasn’t in my nature.
Being an outsider was also hard. My mind raced with doubts.
Gabby’s company eased the pressure, but the fear of exposure still clawed at my insides.
The hostility followed me throughout the day, a shadow I couldn’t shake. The teachers cornered me in the halls, their smiles as sharp as their questions.
“Where’d you say you were from again?” one asked, her tone syrupy sweet.
“Dairyville’s a long way from anywhere.” Another’s words dripped with insinuation.
“How’d a girl like you catch Bridger?” The implication stung; the suggestion that I’d somehow tricked him.
My answers were short and defensive. “Guess I got lucky,” I said, echoing Gabby’s earlier comment. It felt like a lie in my mouth.
They huddled together, exchanging knowing looks.
“Lunch duty, huh? Tough break.” Their laughter followed me down the hallway, a reminder that I was on the outside looking in.
“You were a prisoner in that place? Bet that was a nightmare, huh?” They threw out that question like it was a joke, then whispered to each other and threw more sideways glances.
I know wolves tend to be rougher around the edges. But we also feel things deeply.
Gabby caught up with me between classes, her expression sympathetic. “Don’t let them get to you,” she said. “You’ll be fine.”
I wanted to believe her, wanted it with a desperation that surprised me. “Does anyone else have lunch duty?” I asked, the question betraying my insecurity.
She hesitated, a slight frown marring her features. “Well, not teachers. It’s usually cafeteria staff.”
Her confirmation fueled my suspicion, Karen’s handiwork becoming more obvious with each passing moment. “Thought so.”
“Give it time,” Gabby encouraged, her sincerity a lifeline. “You’ll fit right in.”
I squeezed her arm. “I truly appreciate your being so kind to me.” It was important to me that she knew how much it meant.
But the doubt lingered, as relentless as the eyes that followed me through the day.
Karen’s office felt colder, more impersonal when she summoned me at the end of the day. The look she gave me was as unfriendly as the one she’d greeted me with that morning.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her tone sharp and condescending.
“I think so,” I replied, my voice steady despite my frustration.
“I heard some noise from your room.” Her accusation was thinly veiled. “More than I expected.”
“Kids were excited.” I kept my tone neutral, refusing to rise to her bait.
“Excitement is good,” she said, but her expression said otherwise. “As long as it’s controlled.”
I nodded, my anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her gaze was piercing, a challenge and a dismissal all at once. “We have high standards here. It’s not like anywhere you’ve been before.”
Her words struck deep, an echo of my own fears. I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I nodded again. “I understand.”
“You have a lot to prove, Ms. Galloway.” The name sounded like a curse in her mouth.
What I wanted to say was- “At least I’m going home to Menace, you bitch, Something you’ll never do,” But, I just smiled and said, “Ok.” I really didn’t feel that I had anything to prove.
I knew I could be a fantastic teacher. I’d do the best damn job I could do.
Unrealistic expectations would not break me.
She watched me leave, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. The halls were empty, my footsteps the only sound as I made my way outside.
Seeing Menace waiting in the truck, his protective stance a stark contrast to the day’s hostility, brought a rush of relief I didn’t know I was holding back. I slid in beside him; the tension melted away with the comfort of his presence.
“How was it?” His voice was low, careful.
I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “Tough,” I admitted, the word too small for the weight of it all.
His hand found mine; the connection grounded me. “Tell me.”
As we drove to Pearl’s for dinner, the stories spilled out, each one a piece of the larger struggle. The teachers’ hostility, Karen’s scrutiny, my fear of failing him and myself.
His jaw tightened with every word, his anger a fierce contrast to the calm he usually wore. “You want me to talk to her?” he asked, his voice edged with protective fury.
“No,” I said quickly. “I need to do this. I need to prove I can.”
He nodded, but his tension didn’t ease. “You can,” he said, the conviction in his words more reassuring than anything else.
“I hope so,” I whispered, the doubt gnawing at my insides.
He looked at me, his eyes meeting mine with a promise I wasn’t sure he could keep. “I know so.”
We walked into the restaurant together, the scent of grease and determination heavy in the air. I held on to his hand like it was the only thing tethering me to the world I so desperately wanted to be part of. I could feel his love surging through our bond, and already I felt so much better.