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Chapter 8
May
ARRIVING TO WORKa few minutes early, I walk into the staff room to put my lunch in the fridge, frowning when I find the room filled with most of the teachers and staff who work here. All of them are talking animatedly amongst each other.
Not sure what’s happening, I scan the room and find Toya standing with her back against the counter near the microwave, so I head her direction to find out what’s happening.
“What’s going on?” I ask her quietly when I’m close, and she lets out a long breath.
“Zach was hit by a car this morning when he was coming into the school.”
“What?”
“Apparently, he got here early to work out, and when he was walking across the parking lot, a car came out of nowhere and tried to run him over.”
“Tried to run him over?” I shake my head, sure that I’m misunderstanding what she’s saying.
“Yep, and if he hadn’t jumped on the hood, he would have ended up with more than a broken leg.”
“His leg is broken?”
“It is. He’s out for the week but now everyone is trying to figure out who tried to run him over.”
“Does he know who it was?”
“He has no idea, or that’s what Principal Dunce told us. And the weird thing is, the cameras were shut off, so they didn’t even get anything,” she says, and I start to feel sick, because that seems like too strange of a coincidence. “Personally, I think he pissed off one of the women he’s been dating.”
“There’s a lot of women,” William, who runs the IT department, chimes in, and I meet his gaze as he walks toward us with his shaggy blond hair in disarray, wearing slacks and a button-down shirt that’s a tad too big for his frame. Really, there is something totally endearing about him, even if he is a little bit of a nerd.
“You’re not wrong about that,” Toya agrees with him.
“I hope that’s not the case.” I open the fridge to put my lunch sack away, then look up at William. “Do you know what happened to the cameras?”
“No idea.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “They were all up and running last night when I left, and this morning when I got in to pull the tapes for the cops, the entire system was down.”
“That’s weird, right?”
“Very,” he concurs as the bell rings, letting us know that we have five minutes to get to our rooms.
“Are you going to be in the auditorium for lunch?” I ask Toya, and she nods. “All right, I’ll see you guys later.” I leave the staff room and walk down the hall, smiling at kids as I pass.
I spot Mark, a senior who helps me out in the library first period every day, down at the end of the hall with his girlfriend, Jenna, the two of them in an argument about something. Knowing I’ll have the chance to ask him if things are okay in a few minutes, I unlock the door, and I swear my soul sighs from the smell of books. There is something about the scent of paper and ink that makes me feel at home, and I wish I could bottle it up. I flip on the lights, then head to the main desk and tuck my purse into the bottom drawer before turning on the computer system.
“Sorry I’m late,” Mark greets as he opens the door, with his backpack over one shoulder.
“Is everything okay with you and Jenna? It looked like you two were arguing,” I say, and he sighs while dropping his bag to the floor and taking off his letterman jacket, the same one that all the guys on the football team wear.
“Yeah, she was pissed that I didn’t pick her up this morning.” He falls into one of the chairs at the counter and runs his fingers through his dark hair. “Did you hear about Coach?”
“I did.” I give him a sympathetic look, because I know all the kids love Zach, especially the boys he coaches.
“It’s fucking crazy that happened on school grounds and no one saw anything,” he says, and I raise a brow, because even if I don’t mind when people curse, school isn’t an appropriate place to use that language. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, but I agree; it is crazy.” I roll over the cart stacked full of books that need to go back in their place. “Hopefully, someone will come forward.”
“Yeah, hopefully.” He stands and towers over me as he takes the cart. “Do these all need to go back?”
“I can do it if you have homework you want to work on,” I say because he uses this time most days to catch up on schoolwork.
“Nah, I can’t sit,” he says, and I nod in understanding, and watch him push it away before I take a seat at the desk. I send an email to Zach from my school account so that it’s less personal and just tell him that I hope he’s okay and offer to help if he needs anything.
As the day carries on, I think about Zach and what happened to him this morning. But overshadowing him and everything else is that, no matter how many texts I type out and delete to Aiden, I still can’t seem to find the right words to apologize to him.
