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Martha has been in my classroom every blessed day this week, and it’s mostly been to complain.
“Mom, Miss Stansfield is mean.”
Martha’s gaze flies to my face, and her eyes narrow.
Here we go.
“Why is that?” Martha asks her son.
“She wouldn’t tie my shoes.”
I smile in that patient way I learned to do when I started this career. “Timmy, we all tie our own shoes. You know that.”
“I don’t see why you couldn’t just help him,” Martha says, completely eradicating everything I managed to do over the past fifteen minutes. “It only takes a second.”
“Bye, Miss S!”
Several kids wave as they leave the room, excited to meet their bus or find their parents, picking them up.
A few lag behind, putting on shoes and jackets.
Martha is still glaring at me.
“We have a rule,” I say calmly. “All of us ties our own shoes.”
“You’re not nice like Captain America,” Timmy spits out. “I bet no one likes you. I bet you don’t have any friends.”
“Actually,” I say before I can stop myself, “I live with Captain America.”
If I could pull the words back, I would. But they’re out now, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Really?” a little boy named Robert says in excitement.
“I want to meet him,” Ashley says.
“Now you’re lying to the children?” Martha says with disgust. “I’m calling the principal. I don’t want my child in a liar’s classroom.”
She grabs Timmy’s hand and storms away. I usher the last of the kids out, close my classroom door, and sigh.
“Go home,” I tell myself. “Just forget about everything until Monday. There’s no need to get all riled up.”
I close up my room for the weekend and set off on foot toward my condo. It’s not far, and I’ve enjoyed the walks each day.
But the more I walk, the more worked up I get. I hope she does take Timmy out of my class. He’s a little jerk. He disrupts my lessons, he’s needy, and he’s spoiled. Having him moved wouldn’t hurt my feelings in the least.
But I’m not a liar. That comment pissed me off.
Not that I can prove it.
Oh, God, what did I do? I might have just thrown my roommate under the bus. He’s going to kill me.
My heart is hammering as I push into the condo and make a beeline for the kitchen. I drop my bag on the floor, shimmy out of my coat, and toss it on a chair, then open the fridge for the other half-bottle of wine from the other night.
I pull off the stopper and drink directly from the bottle.
“Uh, hi.”
I freeze and turn to find Zane watching me curiously from the living room.
“Hi,” I say after I finish the bottle. I toss it into the recycling bin and pull another out of the fridge, reaching for the corkscrew.
“Bad day?”
“Bad week.” I’m trying to twist the sucker into the cork, but my hands are too shaky, and I can’t get it right. “Damn it, why is the universe against me?”
“I got it,” he says smoothly, taking the bottle from me and then opening it. “But before you get hammered on wine, do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” I snatch the bottle and take a sip, making him wince. I start to pace around the kitchen, back and forth. “Okay, yeah. I do. These kids are feral. They’re mean. And their language is appalling. Little bullies.”
I drink more wine and keep pacing.
“And don’t even get me started on their parents. A few have been nice, but for the most part, they’re just rude. You’re not going to like this part. You might kick me out. You might hate me.”
His eyebrow flings up. “Did you call the paparazzi?”
That stops me in my tracks, and I frown. “No. Of course, not. I’m an idiot, not an asshole.”
“Okay, what happened?”
“This kid, Timmy, is such a little jerk. He was goading me, and his mom was there, and the next thing I knew, I was telling him that I live with Captain America.”
I drink again, unable to look Zane in the eyes.
“But don’t worry. His mother called me a liar and told me she’s taking her kid out of my class because she doesn’t want him learning from a liar. So, they probably don’t believe me.”
“You’re not a liar,” he says with a scowl. “And I’m pissed that she called you one.”
“Yeah, well, you should be pissed that I told someone you live here. Because that’s not cool. I know you’re lying low. It just happened. Because he was wearing a Captain America shirt, and…oh, hell. I don’t know.”
I finally sit on a stool in defeat.
“I’m going to have to quit my job. I would go throw myself off a bridge, but I have too much left to live for. I’ve never even had sex for fuck’s sake. I want to know what that’s like. So, instead, I’ll just quit my job and go sell handmade necklaces on the beach in Mexico.”
