Hissy Fit Page 3

  Ezra hesitated, his eyes still locked on mine, but then the bell rang.

  “Coach McDuff?”

  He made the decision then and stepped out of the doorway.

  I took the opportunity for what it was and went to lock the door with my ring of keys, only I dropped them. When I bent down to pick them up, I slapped my forehead onto the door handle.

  Ezra stopped, turning back around, but I hastily picked the keys up, closed the door, and then locked it before he could make it back to me.

  I looked at him through the small window pane of glass and saw that he was worried and amused.

  I looked away and found the class staring at me.

  “Your head’s gonna have another bruise tomorrow,” Johnson pointed out.

  I shrugged it off. “If all I get is a bruise on my forehead today, I’ll count myself lucky.”

  Normally it was worse.

  The class laughed.

  Then they continued to laugh as I bumbled my way through the first lesson.

  Apparently, I wasn’t doing them any good—which they shared with me.

  All of them knew everything that I’d taught them.

  Shit.

  It was sad when sixteen and seventeen-year-olds were more experienced than their sex-ed teacher.

  Chapter 4

  Guess what? Chicken butt.

  -Text from Raleigh to Camryn

  Raleigh

  I smiled at the parent, waiting patiently with my hand on the door as the little boy—Alfred—muddled his way to the front seat coming up from the very back. Then, just when he’d gotten to me and I reached out to lift him from his mother’s van, he turned around and said, “My backpack!”

  I glanced at the mother who was on her phone and clearly didn’t want to be bothered.

  Some parents really had this drop-off line shit down. Their kids were dressed—with shoes on—and waiting patiently with their backpacks on their shoulders to be let out of the car.

  And then there were people like Alfred and his mother. Alfred had to put on his shoes. Then he had to put his papers in his bag. Then he had to find the pencil that had rolled out of his seat and onto the floor somewhere. Then, finally, he’d come up to the front only to have to turn around and go back to the back for the backpack that he’d left behind.

  I had to question why I was even over here in the first place.

  I taught at the high school. But, once a week, I was forced to come over here since I was what was considered the ‘float teacher.’ After my morning classes, I was floated around to all the campuses.

  Since the high school and the elementary campus were so close together, they didn’t see a problem with me having to come all the way over.

  No other teacher had to do it.

  Just me.

  “Go, Tit!”

  I blinked, then shook my head, thinking I was hearing things.

  “All right, Tit!”

  Tit?

  Who was he calling Tit?

  Alfred jumped down out of his mother’s van and landed straight on my foot.

  I closed my eyes and tried not to cry out in pain, taking a step forward just as the boy’s mother practically peeled out of the parking lot in her haste to leave.

  “Sorry, Tit,” Alfred apologized. “I didn’t mean to.”

  I didn’t bother to ask him to clarify the ‘Tit’ name. There was no time.

  I smiled through clenched teeth. “It’s okay.”

  It wasn’t okay.

  But I’d get over it.

  After walking Alfred up to the front walkway, I went back to my car lane and realized that Alfred was the last of the morning drop-offs.

  How had I missed that?

  I looked down at my watch.

  I had exactly twelve minutes to go get my car and drive over to the high school to be on time for my first class.

  I took a step in my car’s direction just as another voice had me stopping—this one a lot more welcoming than Alfred’s.

  Not that Alfred bothered me—he just wasn’t this particular little girl.

  “Hi, Ms. Crusie!” the little girl hollered.

  I turned, a smile already on my face, and blinked rapidly.

  Why?

  Because little Moira Berey, Ezra’s niece, was standing there with none other than her Uncle Ezra right beside her.

  “Hi, Moira!” I said, smiling a little bit shyly. “How are you today?”

  My gaze went from Moira to her uncle, and I had to clench my belly in reaction to his beautiful eyes aimed my way.

  Ezra McDuff’s eyes seemed to bore right through me, and I looked away.

  It’d been a few weeks since our first encounter in his sex-ed classroom, and I had to say that I hadn’t faired any better in the weeks following that. The class never got easier, mostly because the topics got harder.

  “Ms. Crusie, did you see my hooker boots?”

  I blinked. “Your…what?”

  “My hooker boots!” She turned and showed me her high-heeled boots, that were actually quite adorable on her, and preened.

  I glanced from the ‘hooker boots’ to the uncle, and back again.

  Ezra was too busy looking up at the sky to notice that I was staring.

  “Moira, swear to God. I told you not to tell anybody that!”

  My lips twitched.

  “Why not? I love my hooker boots!” she paused. “But probably not as much as my shit-kickers. I can’t decide. I think I like my shit-kickers better because I can get dirty in them. Uncle Ezra said I can’t wear these when we’re at the park because I might step in goose shit.”

  I covered my mouth when Ezra started to curse to the heavens.

  “Um, darlin’?” I paused. “We probably shouldn’t say ‘s-h-i-t’ at school.”

  “What does s-h-i-t spell?”

  I bit my lip to keep the laughter from bubbling out.

  “Shit.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was cursing just to curse or cussing to explain the word I’d spelled. Either way, I couldn’t contain the smile.

  “Alrighty, then,” I said as I smiled down at Moira. “I have to go to school, girl. Good luck on your spelling test today.”

  “You have a spelling test today?” Ezra asked, sounding somewhat alarmed.

  Thinking now was a good time to go, I hoofed it as fast as I possibly could across the parking lot and slid into my car without further ado.

  After pressing the button on the dash that started my new vehicle up, a tap-tap-tap-brrrrrr sounded from it.

  I frowned and tried again.

  This time the screen on the dash said, “Key Fob Not Detected.”

  “What do you mean the key fob isn’t detected?” I cried, holding the keys up in my hand and dangling them in front of the dash like the car might be able to see that it was, indeed, there.

  Pressing the button again, I got another message—this one saying ‘Key Fob Battery Low.’

  What the absolute fuck?

  After one final try, I realized that it probably wasn’t going to happen.

  What was the freakin’ point in getting a new car if the damn thing did exactly what my old one did? At least with my old one, a chartreuse bucket of rust Chevy Silverado, I knew that the damn thing would start—even if it did pour out black smoke the entire time you drove it.

  Sure, it was embarrassing, but it got me where I needed to go.

  I muttered under my breath as I reached into the back seat for my running shoes.

  At least I had those.

  This trek across the football field to get to the high school would’ve been bad if I had to do it in my sandals.

  This early in the day, the grass was wet from it being watered every morning around five—I knew the exact time because I was there every single time the water turned on unless it was raining.

  I had to get my exercise in somehow.

  Toeing off my sandal
s, I slipped my tennis shoes on sans socks, and said a silent prayer that my shoes wouldn’t be too wet for tomorrow due to what I was about to put them through, and got out.

  I took off, moving much faster than I probably should have been.

  I mean, hello! Walking disaster, right here!

  After hurrying down the driveway that led to the elementary school, I took a left and headed a little farther up the highway before cutting through the football field.

  I’d made it about halfway across the field when my toe caught on a sprinkler head and nearly took me down.

  After regaining my balance, I shot forward again, only this time to actually go down hard on the track.

  At least it wasn’t still wet like the grass, I thought annoyingly.

  With only a dark smudge on my gray skirt to show for my recent fall, I decided that maybe it would be better to just be late than it would be for me to hurry any faster. I mean, I could fall, break my jaw, and have to go to the emergency room.

  Then I’d be really late!

  I’d just pushed through the gate that surrounded the track when Ezra’s beautiful Chevrolet parked parallel to the fence.

  It—the truck—fit him perfectly.

  It was black as midnight and lifted. The only trace of color on the entire truck was the little Chevrolet symbol on the grill, and that was red, white, and blue.

  The windows were tinted so dark that I couldn’t see him at first.

  And, since I could ignore him if I couldn’t see him, I hurried past his truck and started walking past it to get into the side entrance of the school when the door opened.

  At the perfect time.

  I was hit square in the forehead and went down so hard that I didn’t even have time to brace for my fall.

  One second, I was standing on my feet, and the next I was lying in the dirt staring up at the sky.

  “Fuck!” Ezra growled as he hopped out, being careful not to jump out on top of me. “Are you all right?”

  Was I all right?

  Well, I couldn’t feel my face.

  I also knew that my nose was bleeding—or would be the moment I stood up.

  Right now I could just feel the blood running down the back of my throat.

  “Fuck, you’re gonna have a bruise,” he murmured.

  Another one.

  My black eyes had healed, and the bruise on my forehead from it meeting the doorknob had finally faded enough to be covered by makeup. But I got a new one every day, so at this point, a bruise was just a bruise. My newest one was on my arm from running into the water fountain of all things. Right now, it was a putrid green that looked like a baby had vomited peas all over my forearm.

  I would now be sporting another bruise on my forehead.

  Yay.

  At least I was getting better with the makeup!

  “I’m fine,” I lied, pinching my nose as I made my way to stand.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his large palm going underneath my elbow to help steady me.

  He needn’t have bothered.

  I was well versed in the art of picking myself up off the ground.

  What I was not well versed in was someone being around for the times that my clumsiness got the best of me.

  “I’m…”

  He took my hand from my nose, and I immediately felt the blood start pouring out.

  He hadn’t even hit me in the nose, and it was bleeding.

  The traitor.

  “Shit,” he rumbled. “Let me get you something from my office.”

  When he turned and ran, I did, too.

  Only, he caught up to me when I was at the side door of the school, hand on the lever that would take me inside.

  I’d have made it, too, had the damn thing not been locked.

  When I went for my keys, he shouted for me to wait.

  I didn’t.

  But he caught up to me anyway.

  Damn, the man was just as fast now as he was in high school!

  “Wait up!”

  I didn’t want to wait up. I wanted to run away and hide in the girl’s bathroom like I did when I was in high school.

  My embarrassment was major.

  “I’m going to be late for class,” I told him. “And now I have to go to the bathroom and clean up.”

  He handed me a towel, and I breathed before putting it on my nose.

  He grunted in satisfaction and then started to wipe me off with a baby wipe.

  A baby wipe?

  “I have them in my office for those times when I don’t take a shower and can’t go straight home,” he answered my non-spoken question. “Are you sure you’re okay? I thought I saw you get into a car?”

  I didn’t bother to enlighten him that my car wouldn’t start.

  Nor would I question why he was watching me get into my car in the first place.

  I finally got my keys out of my pocket and punched the right key into the keyhole, turning it at the same time as he continued to wipe down my face.

  “Thank you,” I said once I got the door open. “You’re sweet, but I really have to go.”

  He grunted something and allowed me to take the baby wipe without too much of a problem.

  I felt him following behind me, though.

  “What class do you teach next?” he asked.

  I tried not to be hurt that he didn’t know.

  The shithead.

  He’d only passed it every single day of his life—and smiled at me at that. Was the man that unobservant when it came to me?

  I tried not to show him just how dejected I was that he didn’t know me even a little bit.

  “I’m in the room right next to the office. I’m teaching pre-cal this period,” I answered quietly.

  “Do you want me to go let them in while you get cleaned up?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I won’t be a minute,” I said, trying not to sound like I wanted to spend any time with him when I’d like to spend as much with him as possible.

  Hell, I’d take getting hit in the face again by his door if it meant that I’d get to spend another ten minutes with him. I was that obsessed with the man.

  Then, as if she could sense that I was close to spending five minutes with the man, Coach Casper came up and put her hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “Heya, Coach!”

  I didn’t wait around.

  I hightailed it to the bathroom and tried not to cry.

  What would it take for someone to notice me?

  By the time I’d cleaned up in the staff bathroom, I headed hurriedly to my classroom, apologizing profusely once I arrived.

  “Sorry, y’all,” I apologized to the students that were lining the wall outside my classroom. “Carpool was a pain in the bottom today.”

  The students didn’t care. They were genuinely happy that they had five fewer minutes of class.

  “Turn to page sixty-four in your textbook,” I said tiredly. “And did you study the chapter like I asked?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the class droned.

  “Why do we have to go over this again? We learned this last semester.”

  I looked up to find Quentin Jones, the star JV quarterback and resident funny guy, staring at me with a pained expression on his face.

  “Well, if you know all of this, why are you in my class?”

  “Because we’re required to be here to graduate,” Quentin popped off.

  I snorted and moved to sit on the edge of my desk.

  When I did, it caused the slit in my skirt to hike up slightly—which was of course when Ezra passed by with Coach Casper nipping closely at his heels.

  I gritted my teeth as I watched them both sneak into the staff room, and turned back to my class, trying my best to ignore Coach Casper’s annoying nasally voice.

  “Who wants to show me how to work the first equation?” I asked the class as a whole.

  Nobody raised their hands, and I snorted.

&nb
sp; “I have M&Ms!” I said, patting a glass jar on my desk that was filled to the brim with the sweet delicacies.

  “I like M&Ms, Ms. Crusie,” came a deep male voice.

  I startled and turned, nearly falling to my butt. I only caught myself just in time to look undignified.

  “No way, Coach!” Quentin argued. “Those are ours. You go find your own M&Ms!”

  Ezra’s lips peeled back into a genuine grin.

  I looked past him to see Coach Casper glaring at me.

  I would’ve given her a smug look had she not looked entirely too mad at me for some unknown reason.

  “Aren’t you supposed to have your classroom door shut at all times, per the superintendent’s letter, Ms. Crusie?” Coach Casper asked sweetly, sidling up to Ezra’s side.

  I swallowed the retort that came to my lips and smiled serenely.

  Another student answered for me, though.

  “We have one more student coming who’s in a wheelchair, Coach Casper. He can’t get in with the door closed,” Jasslyn, the resident goth, droned monotonously. “In fact, he’s right there behind you.”

  Both Coach Casper and Ezra turned to find Morgan patiently waiting for both adults to move the hell out of his way.

  Normally Morgan was very abrupt, but he looked off.

  I instantly stood up and started walking toward him.

  “Ezra, would you mind staying here for a moment?” I asked, for the first time specifically looking the man in the eye and asking him a question.

  Ezra blinked, then nodded, looking taken aback that I’d actually addressed him and given him eye contact at the same time.

  He stepped around me and into the room. “I’ll catch up with you later, Coach Casper.”

  Coach Casper turned on her heels and headed back to the staff room, leaving me in the hallway as Ezra passed me in the doorway.

  He went to lean on the desk where I was just leaning, and I took the time to move farther down the hall and gesture to Morgan as I did.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Morgan was a very blunt boy. He didn’t care about propriety, and that likely had a lot to do with the situation he found himself in at a very young age.

  He was seventeen, and in a sophomore class that he had to retake.