"That should have been telling; she even hinted that she might endure a lecture if the door was already closing behind her. But I was in analytic mode. I had to test it and make sure it wasn't just attitude. After the way she'd wigged out Friday over a tube of chapstick, who could say what whims motivated this young woman? No, I had to be sure. "First off, Taylor, I think an apology is in order," I started. She only looked at me blankly, as if not comprehending what she might have done. "For your outbursts Friday, and for wasting my time today." "Oh. Sure, if you say so. I'm sorry for Friday, and for today. OK?" The lack of sincerity could not have been clearer, but she still rolled her eyes to slam the point home. "No. It's not OK." And it wasn't, but I also needed more data. Was she humoring me, or was it actually working? "I... Hmm." I tapped my lip. How to test it? Instantly, a dozen answers stampeded from that too-loud part of my subconscious, but I silenced it immediately. The
"The whole chapstick thing, I guess," she said. She was nearing the bottom of the board again. Rather than squat, this time it appeared she was going to simply bend further. Maybe her thighs were sore from her workout. Maybe she was doing it on purpose to mess with me. Hell if I knew. But she was bent nearly ninety degrees now, and her tank top was hanging down enough that I could just barely make out the bottom of her sports bra clinging to the underside of her chest. It was a faded pink, almost the same color as that egg-shaped chapstick that had started all of this."Say it like you mean it," I pressed. "A complete, sincere-sounding apology." I deserved this. She deserved this. An apology was only fair. If Louisa had drawn a different conclusion about what she'd walked in on, it might have ended my career. A heartfelt apology was the least I owed."Jesus, fine. I'm very, very sorry I tried to get my chapstick back, Mr. Canon. And for teasing you.""You were?" I blinked. Had it reall
"This is stupid, Mr. Canon. I already did this. Why do I have to do all these pointless little steps? It's a waste of time!""We've been over this, Taylor. Part of this is having a respectable final product, yes, but part of it is also mastering the process.""But the process is stupid. No way is it some sort of real-world life skill to put my notes on separate pages or write a work cited entry on every one of them.""It's a work cited entry, not a true bibliography," I reminded her, "and whether or not it's useful to everyone in the real world, it's useful for some people. Heck, just showing you can follow directions is progress. Whatever you wind up doing, you're probably going to have somebody above you who expects you to be able to do what they ask you to.""I already have a job, and my manager definitely doesn't make me cite works. Like, ever.""Oh yeah? Where are you working?""I'm a waitress.""Very cool. Where at?"She made a face. "What, are you stalking me or something?"I si
I wasn't far behind her. Spending an hour a day with Taylor in my sixth period had been exhausting me all year; an extra hour all alone with her was going to be the death knell of my joie de vivre. Briefcase in hand, I made my way into the hall. Grant High was silent this time of day, a welcome respite. At the far end of the English hallway, I could see our custodian Randi pushing her vacuum back and forth, doggedly undoing the damage these kids did to the poor building day in and day out. She looked up and I gave her the customary nod of gratitude; it was unreturned as usual. I couldn't even blame the woman. After all, my being here doing my job only made hers harder, while the reverse was true for her. My classroom, H121, was right near the junction with the school's main hallway. Then it was that long stroll down the wide, empty corridor to the parking lot before I could finally drive home, unbutton my shirt, and relax for a few minutes before I had to start prepping for tomorrow.
I knew my fantasies were getting out of hand, but I tried to convince myself they weren't unethical because no one was getting hurt. Taylor Stern was undeniably attractive, and I found myself drawn to her. I experienced a similar attraction to Candace Salata when she started last year. We had the same prep period, and waiting in line for the photocopier had given us a chance to connect over our shared professional interests and sense of humor. That was a real attraction. But with Taylor, it was more physical. She had an undeniable body, and she liked to show it off. While I wasn't exactly her target audience, I still found myself watching her. It felt like I was owed at least a little something for all that she put me through. Despite her physical appeal, I disliked almost everything else about her. She was lazy, conniving, deceitful, entitled, and could be a real bully to anyone who crossed her. But for some reason, all of that was part of the attraction. The combination of her body
Taylor. And those unrestrained boobs of hers. Oh shit."Guess that's what they call irony, right?" she said as she crossed the room. Sure enough, there on her desk was the little pink chapstick egg that had started this whole thing off. The Serenex was sitting out on my desk. Oh fuck. Don't notice it! "What's that?" Taylor immediately opened the cap and began applying more lip balm. Watching a round pink bulb smear across her lips had been a prominent feature in many of those fantasies I had been culling."What's... what?" I asked stupidly.She pointed directly at the Serenex as she made her way back toward the door. But still putting the cap back on the chapstick, she was moving far too slowly for my comfort. "That. Is that pepper spray or something?""Uh... yes...?" I cleared my throat. "Yep. Pepper spray. You can never be too careful, right?”But Taylor was cocking her head to the side, studying it as she drew closer. "Are you even allowed to have that? That's like a weapon, right?
Not knowing what else to do, I set the spray down on my desk and took a step away. That was it. I was done. All that was left was to see if they'd blackmail me, or simply go for the throat and end my life as I knew it right here, right now. Abbie approached her sister, though it was clear she was apprehensive about Taylor's uncharacteristic nonchalance about all of this. Still, she was curious, pulling her sister's arm up where she could see it. It was still wet, almost dripping with how much I'd overdone it. Abbie sniffed, and when she didn't experience any pain or discomfort, sniffed closer. "What even is this shi--" With reflexes I didn't know I had, I pounced. One hand clamped on the back of Abbie's head and the other under Taylor's arm. The two were pressed together until there was contact, then held there. Abbie squealed and then flailed in shocked alarm. Worried she'd start screaming, I let go a few moments later. Abbie immediately spat and sputtered, wiping her mouth on her s
"What's her problem?" asked Taylor. "Hush." But what was Abbie's problem? Was it that she had ingested the Serenex? How much had she taken? Abbie had consumed enough of it to comment on the taste. Hmm. I retrieved the Serenex and, sure enough, the lengthy warning label had a bolded prohibition against ingesting the substance. However, it was also accompanied by warnings not to get it in the eyes, not to use more than the prescribed dose, to only use it in accordance with state and federal law, and a hundred other cover-your-ass statements. There was nothing about the reason for any of these warnings. Although it seemed pretty obvious that a chemical that affected the brain when it made contact with the skin would only have a stronger effect if it was ingested. Well, bookmark that for now. I had a bigger problem at the moment. Simply put, I had just openly dosed two students with a chemical weapon. The girls even knew the name of it, and eventually, they would snap out of the effects