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“Holy shit,” Wyatt muttered under his breath.
“Sir?” the pilot called.
“It’s fine,” Ethan said, releasing the button.
I smugly nodded at him. “You’re all just like Ms. Lisowski.”
Ethan shook his head. “Should I even ask?”
“Ms. Lisowski was a fourth grade teacher at my school.” I went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “However, the fourth grade teacher I was assigned to told her I was smart and so I should be in her class. Ms. Lisowski took one look at me and laughed, saying I wouldn’t fit in with her class.”
“Until you stunned them all with your brilliance?” Ethan added, and I could feel the dry sarcasm rolling off him in waves.
“No. Though that is how the story should have ended. Instead, Ms. Lisowski never spoke to me again until she substituted for my teacher during test day. I finished early, like I usually did, and went to sleep, like I was allowed to, only to be woken up by her ruler on my head. She didn’t believe I’d finished so quickly and when I showed to her, and got everything right, she still didn’t believe. She said I must have cheated and made me sit in the corner with this sign that said God doesn’t like cheaters.”
Wyatt laughed.
“Not funny!” I grabbed one of the papers on the table and threw it at his head.
“Did she put a cone on your head too?” he joked.
“No.” I pouted, though I was sure if there had been one she would have. I turned to Ethan, who listened, though looking bored. “Anyway, she told me I’d have to sit there every day for the whole week until I admitted to cheating. I kept telling her I didn’t cheat and on the third day one of the boys threw glue at me.”
Wyatt stopped laughing at that. The smile on his face slowly faded.
But mine didn’t. “It got all over the shirt my mom had bought for me, so I came out of the corner and picked up my chair and threw it at him.”
Ethan snickered. “I’m guessing that didn’t make school any easier for you.”
I shrugged. “Ms. Lisowski said I was a wild animal that would end up pregnant, living in a trailer park, eating out of plastic plates for the rest of my life since I couldn’t act like or look like a lady. I told her she didn’t look like a lady either because she had a mustache. All the kids started laughing at her then. We called her Ms. Whiskers.”
“I don’t know who to feel bad for anymore,” Wyatt muttered.
“Me!” Did he even really have to ask? “She is the one who judged, humiliated, skipped school almost every day…can we put her on the list?” I looked at Ethan eagerly, sitting up.
“Let me get this straight.” He sat up as well. “You want to add your fourth grade teacher, who is most likely an old woman at this point, to the list of people you want revenge on?”
I didn’t like how he said it or the hypercritical high horse he was sitting on. “Yes, does it make me sound petty?”
“Very,” both Ethan and Wyatt agreed.
Look at them. They were now ganging up on me.
“Excuse me. I was traumatized, thank you,” I said, placing my hand over my heart. “I had no friends, was already being teased. In fact, I barely blocked out most of childhood because it was so bad. She could have made me retake the test, but noooooo she had to be like everyone else and make my life hell.” I crossed my arms.
“As you wish,” Ethan answered, and I cheered, trying to think of anyone else.
“Wowww.” Wyatt stretched out just like I had done. “You both have no shame.”
“Screw shame,” Ethan and I both said. And when we did both of us locked eyes for a moment. Reaching over to Ethan’s work, I grabbed another piece of
paper, but he grabbed my wrist.
“You do realize this isn’t for paper football, right?”
I nodded. “It’s information about Boston, and the big wigs in town. You’ve already read and memorized them, firstly, and secondly, half of this shit is wrong. You should shoot the person who got it for you ’cause they’re shitty at intel gathering.”
“Bye-bye, Hugh.” Wyatt waved behind him and all eyes were on Mr. Toothpick.
