Yeah right, anassociate. He means one of his golf buddies’ daughters that he’s been parading in front of me, like I’m looking for a wife’s dowry to keep my familyafloat. He’s just mad because I’ve been even more distant since the breakup. I have refused to use the credit cards he “gifts” me, keeping at least that much of his control out of my life.
Avery always told me I didn’t need him or his validation. That somehow being me was enough. That his inability to love me did not have anything to do with me, but everything to do with him and how nothing will ever be good enough for him.
And I started to believe her.
But didn’t Avery choose to leave just like everyone else? Didn’t she take one last look at me and decide I wasn’t enough for her too?
A familiar tightness starts to spread across my chest, the tingling starting in my fingers and my vision blurring at the edges. I grip my comforter and force myself to breathe before this turns into a full-blown panic attack. They’ve increased over the past month, that suffocating feeling waking me up more nights than not. I count and try to focus on each breath as the world spins around me.
Once my heart rate slows and the feeling has passed, I lock my phone and resume my self-deprecating inner monologue. I fall asleep to the thought that this is all temporary and that Iwillget her back. I’ll give her the life she always pictured for us. Whatever she wants, she can have—I just need to figure out what went wrong.
And where did I put my fucking guitar string?
“Kane,I need you to meet with a student later today. They’re new to the school, and they’ve been to four other schools in the past two years, so I just want you to check in. Makesure everything is good at home, if you can,” Principal Danner’s secretary, Dawn, tells me as I walk in the front door. My bag is slung over my shoulder and my extra-hot latte burns my hands. My eyes are still heavy with sleep, and my hair refused to be tamed this morning, so I opted to leave it a mess of waves. I make a mental note to schedule a haircut as soon as possible.
“Sure thing, Dawn. Can you email any info to me so I can get a good understanding of their background?” I ask as I head toward my office, not bothering to wait for her response since I know Dawn will have everything to me within minutes. She is probably the most efficient person in this school, the glue that keeps this place running.
Being at one of the most underfunded schools in the district, it’s hard to find good teachers and staff who are willing to work for pennies. The kids in this section are falling through the cracks, and the government is being less than helpful. That’s the main reason I applied here—the forgotten kids. Whether forgotten by a messed-up system or by the people who were supposed to put them first but didn’t.
Once I get into my office, I throw my bag on the desk and start up my computer. Taking a heavy pull from my drink, I let the warmth flood my system, giving me a boost to get myself together. I pull up my calendar and email, take in all the info Dawn has already sent me, and note that my calendar is full today. My weekly meeting with Trevor is at noon, and I’m hoping he shows up today. Sometimes he doesn’t, but I always leave my door open anyway. I also made a note to follow up with another student after her two-week absence to see what we can do to get her caught up on her work and stay eligible for graduation.
I heave a sigh at how much there is to do, but a sense offulfillment hits me all the same. This is what I love, being helpful and giving some of these kids a voice they may not have otherwise.
My phone buzzes on the desk, already buried under all the files I’ve pulled for my morning sessions. I shuffle papers around, my sleeves already up to my elbows with the sweltering heat blasting from the vents. It buzzes again and I frantically look around for it, worried something has happened so early in the day.
Sperm Donor
Answer your phone, Kane.
I raised you better than this.
As a scoff rises out of my throat, I put my phone on Do Not Disturb and hide it away. The looming shadow of my father clouds my mood as my first student of the day arrives.
CHAPTER SIX
kane
Ghost – Justin Bieber
My morning is full of back-to-back students, some with much to discuss and others I spent the whole meeting trying to pry any sort of information from. After dealing with everything— from students missing chunks of school and the resulting overload of missing assignments, to others wanting to work through the anxieties of the looming future—I’m thankful for a breather.
Looking at the last dregs of my second cup of coffee reminds me that I have yet to eat anything today. My lunch break is now, but I always block it off in case Trevor stops by. I’ve made it clear that my door is always open for him.
Staring at the unread group chat messages from Marcus and Grayson, I decide to reply after I’ve eaten something. But just as I stand up, a tuft of brown curls appears in my doorway.
I release a breath, some of the tension easing when I see Trevor. He looks tired, the ever-present dark under-eyes under this fifteen-year-old’s eyes punching me right in thegut, like always. He should be playing a sport or getting in trouble with his friends, not working himself to exhaustion doing extra shifts at a mechanic shop in a not-so-great area of Cherry Hill—one of the few facts I’ve got out of him over the past two months. I make a mental note to talk to Marcus about giving him a job at his father’s shop. Maybe a more stable and healthier environment would help this kid out a bit more, though it’s on the other side of town which could be hard if he lacks the means to get there.
My heart clenches remembering how down he looked telling me, as if I would judge him for needing a job. Unfortunately, my last name is widely known in this town. From my father’s never-ending real estate ventures to the construction company he owns, it’s hard to go a few blocks without seeing “D’Antonio” plastered on something. It has made some kids wary of talking to me, knowing I may never understand their circumstances. But I have done my best to show them that despite what I came from, I am here for them, and no matter what, they matter to me.
I motion for Trevor to take a seat and close the door behind him. I opt not to say anything, letting Trevor start the conversation as I sit back down in my chair and straighten some papers, keeping my hands busy.
“Busy day, huh?” Trevor’s small voice asks as he looks at the mountain of paperwork I’m behind on.
“Always busier than I want them to be, that’s for sure,” I reply, leaning back in my chair. I keep my eyes on him to let him know I am listening and engaged in this conversation.
He finally lifts his head up, and that’s when I see it—a small bruise darkening his cheek. The deep purple can’t be mistaken for anything else. My heart cracks open as I stare at it.
It’s not the first time he’s shown up here witha small mark or unexplained cut. He always claims he tripped or got it at work, but after the fifth or sixth time, I couldn’t deny that something worse could be happening to this kid. We’re made aware of the signs early on, we go through rigorous training to spot when abuse could occur.
