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“Normally this is handled by the coaches,” Mrs. Sherpa explained. “But with the football team entering state finals last season, Coach McDuff had to roll straight from football to baseball. He doesn’t have time to teach the health class.” She exhaled. “And, you’re the only one with an opening for the time period that health class would normally take place.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
I mean, sure, that was the case with ‘Coach McDuff.’ The Gun Barrel Devil Dogs did, in fact, make it to state—and won.
The mere mention of ‘Coach McDuff’—also known as Ezra Doran McDuff, sexy coach in my head—had my heart rate accelerating.
But…sex-ed.
I didn’t do sex.
I didn’t have sex.
I didn’t know about sex.
I didn’t even think about sex—okay, that last one is a lie. I thought about sex…with Ezra. I didn’t think about sex with anyone else, though.
That, and I read about it. But reading about it and doing it were two entirely different things.
“W-what age group are we talking here?” I asked, hoping that it was with a bunch of immature ninth graders.
“Mainly, it’d be the junior and senior level. Grades ten and nine can move down to take health at the junior high, or we can put them off until next year due to availability. But the seniors don’t have the choice to put it off. So, it’ll be one class, with about thirty students in it.”
That made me want to vomit.
I worked with the ninth graders because they were still too young to have attitudes, and they weren’t so big that they could overpower me if they got pissed off. The upperclass boys—let’s just say that if they wanted to, they could take me down in a heartbeat.
Just the idea of all those big football players in a class of mine made me nauseous.
I knew, logically, that they weren’t going to do anything.
But thanks to my first and only foray into senior level classes when I was a student teacher—I’d quickly realized that senior classes weren’t where I wanted to be.
But that was thanks to a certain senior, that was now a convict, in a maximum-security prison.
At the time, he’d only been a stupid seventeen, almost eighteen-year-old kid, that thought he’d be able to obtain an A by sexing up the student teacher. When I’d informed him that I was uninterested, he’d taken it as a personal affront, and had made it his mission in life to make my life hell.
Shortly after the end of the year, Cramer Winters, my personal stalker, failed his Algebra class. When he’d received his grade, he’d come to the office to complain to the teacher. Only, the teacher hadn’t been there. I had.
And he’d sexually assaulted me—though he’d not gotten as far as he’d been intending.
Luckily, the actual teacher had walked in right about the time that Cramer had been about to penetrate me.
I’d been unconscious and bloody, unaware of the horror that the teacher had saved me from until much later on that day.
The bad thing was that another student had seen him assaulting me and hadn’t done a thing about it.
That left a deep-seated fear in me when it came to the elder students that should’ve helped and didn’t.
It’d taken everything I had to continue with my teaching degree. Then, when I’d tried to find a job with the younger age group, I’d hit hurdle after hurdle, until finally, I’d found a job working with the younger generation of high schoolers.
It was a good fit for me.
“I don’t know…”
“Listen, Ms. Crusie. I’m going to be honest with you here. You’re already one of the newest teachers here, that means that most of the other teachers have seniority. You’re the most qualified. Either you take it, or we’ll find someone new that can. Coach McDuff is willing to give you all of his materials and sit in on the first few classes to help smooth the transition over,” Mrs. Sherpa was saying. “I know that you’re nervous with teaching the upper levels due to your previous…problems. But he promises that it’ll be okay. They’re good kids, and most of them are his ball players. He can ensure that they stay in line.”
She didn’t have to say the words. I knew what she meant.
Either I did what I was being asked to do, or I would be fired, and someone else would be hired that could just as easily do my job and teach the sex-ed class.
“Fine,” I said, my voice shaky. “When do you want me to start?”
She looked at her watch. “Now.”
***
I arrived in the senior hallway and tried not to jump at the sound of lockers slamming, boisterous laughter, and the yells and shouts of the seniors all around me.
Today was Friday, and it was the last class before school let out for the weekend, plus it was a game day. It was understandable that they were getting excited.
