Her All Along

“The world’s not coming to an end, guys. Quit acting like it.” I smoothed down my tie and then folded my arms over my chest. “This is for me to get a sense of how poorly you’ll perform in this class.”

“You’re so funny, Mr. B,” Sandra giggled.

I slid my mildly bored gaze to Keira when she snorted. Seated in the front row by the window, her bad posture made it clear she had no fucks to give. I supposed losing parents you’d loved would do that.

I pulled out my chair and sat down, planning on getting lost in my phone while these predestined failures answered my sixty questions about civics. I estimated half of them would surrender the one point they received when adding their name to the top of the page.

Scanning the attendance list, I found Cody somewhere in the middle. Cody Morgan.

“While Mr. Morgan hands out the tests, let’s get back to the question,” I said, leaning back in my seat. “Raise your hand if you’ve posted anything political on social media, including news articles.”

Approximately fifteen of my twenty-two students raised their hands.

I was mildly impressed.

“Good. It’s important to get involved,” I told them. “I take it this means you have an interest in how our country is run, so I hope to see the same hands in the air after my next question.” I paused. “How many know of any of our local representatives and legislators?”

Two fucking hands remained.

“We will discuss the effects of social media campaigning later in the semester,” I said, “but if you don’t care to know who holds the power in your own state, you might as well give up your vote.”

“The next presidential election isn’t for another two years,” one girl pointed out.

I nodded slowly, phrasing myself as politely as I could. “How much do you believe a president will get done if his party has a minority in both the House and the Senate? All elections are important, and some of you will be able to vote in the midterms.” I put an end to the topic there. “I want silence while you complete the test. You have forty-five minutes, starting now.”

Thankfully, they all went to work right away.

With the sound of paper rustling and pens scratching filling the air, I brought out my phone and looked up hypersexuality on the autism spectrum.

“Mr. Becker!”

So close.

I unloaded the work I was bringing home with me into the back seat of my car, then closed the door and faced whoever was ambushing me in the parking lot behind the school.

I wanted to say I knew who that girl was. She looked too mature to be a student.

She forced a polite smile on her face as she got closer. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Taylor Sloane. You were my teacher a couple years ago.”

Of course. I nodded, remembering now. This was Keira’s older sister. Unlike her sister, Taylor was blond and hadn’t gone emo and dyed her hair black. They did, however, share the same dullness in their gray gazes.

“I heard about your parents,” I said. “My condolences.”

“Thank you,” she replied uncomfortably. “It’s sort of related to what I wanted to ask you. You have my sister—Keira—in two of your classes this year, and I’m wondering if you could keep an eye on her.”

I straightened my posture and frowned. “If you’re worried she might pose a risk to herself—or others, for that matter—in her grief, I suggest you speak with the school counselor.”

“That’s not it,” she assured quickly. “This is just about her schoolwork. She wants to drop out, but I made her promise to go at least one semester.”

Ah. Well, that was admirable—that Taylor fought for Keira to stay in school.

“I don’t mean to pry, but is it only you and your sister now?” I wondered. “Do you get support from other family members?”

“It’s pretty much just us.” She shrugged. “Mom’s parents are alive—they recently went back to Florida. And Dad has two brothers, but they’re in New York.”

“Hm.” I’d been on my own since I was eighteen, so it wasn’t like it seemed anywhere near impossible. At the same time, I knew how alienating it could be. “Are you staying in your parents’ house?”

“Yes, right here.” Right here, being Ponderosa, a district for the ones who could afford it. “We’ll be fine, eventually. It’s not like we’re hurting for money.”

Perhaps not, but they were hurting for family.

It wasn’t my business, though. I cleared my throat and pushed no further. Instead, I promised I’d keep an extra eye on Keira and let Taylor know if her sister fell behind.

“Thank you so much.” Taylor’s eyes flooded with relief, and she brought out her phone. “Can we exchange numbers?”

Oh, right. I supposed that was smart. “Keira has mine on the information sheet she was given today,” I said and retrieved my phone. “Just insert yours here.”