Teacher's Pet

Great. I tried not to let any emotion overtake my face; if she wanted to end things, I’d agree, even though I really didn’t want to.

“But . . .” She looked up, and there was a tiny smile curling the corners of her mouth. “They already know, whoever it is. Stopping now isn’t going to change that. I assume they must have some sort of proof, otherwise they wouldn’t be so forward about it. And I’ve actually been enjoying this more than I can remember enjoying anything.” She blushed. “I know it started as one thing, but it’s turned into something else; it’s turned into the one good thing I seem to have going for me at the moment, and I really can’t bear the idea of having to put a stop to it right now.”

I felt a smile spread across my face, even though the situation wasn’t that funny. I was pissed as hell that someone was trying to fuck with her like this, but I was relieved to hear her say that she wanted to keep going with it.

“I’m happy to hear you say that,” I said.

15.

Tessa

I knew Leo didn’t want me to write the paper, but I had to. Five pages wasn’t that much, and though I didn’t know a lot about Hurricane Katrina, it was easy enough to research it online and put together something that seemed like it would get a good grade.

I finished the paper late Saturday morning, and after I emailed it to the anonymous address, I decided to go down to my parents’. My father was out when I got there, but my mother was at the dining room table, trying to work on one of her scrapbooks, another of her acquired hobbies that she had been really into for a while.

“I’m determined to finish one of these scrapbooks,” she said, sitting amidst photos and stickers and other paper accoutrements. “This one I’m working on is for you, actually.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I said.

“But I want to. Look at all these pictures! If nothing else, it’s a nice trip down memory lane. I had another nice conversation with Marjorie last night, though, and she was telling me about the nice book she’s putting together for Brynn, and she’s going to give it to her when she graduates. I think I might be able to have this

completed by the time you graduate.”

“Mom, you don’t have to—”

“You know what else Marjorie told me? She happened to mentioned that when Brynn was one, Marjorie and Jeff and Brynn’s brother and cousins and aunts and uncles—well, basically the whole extended family, you get the picture—they all wrote down something for Brynn. What they hoped for her, how happy they were that she was part of the family, something like that. No one read what they wrote, though; Marjorie just put it in this time capsule thing and Jeff buried it in their backyard. Under that lovely magnolia tree of theirs. Anyway, they dug it up when Brynn was 16, and she got to read all those lovely thoughts and sentiments that people had written to her back when she was just a baby. Isn’t that such a wonderful thing?”

“Uh, yeah, Mom, that’s great.”

“And it just got me thinking that your father and I had never done anything even close to that for you.”

“Don’t feel bad, Mom. It’s nice and everything, but it’s not like my life is lacking or anything because you didn’t.”

“I just . . . I just can’t help but wonder if your father and I somehow haven’t done enough for you. If that’s why you’ve been having difficulty in school lately. It’s been on my mind so much, Tessa, since you told us.”

“Really?” I said, feeling a pang of guilt. If she ever found out about Leo and me, it would probably completely devastate her. She would take it personally, like she had somehow failed me. “You guys have actually done way more for me than most parents do for their kids. Which I really appreciate, and I want you guys to know that. And not having some time capsule for me to open up is totally fine. We don’t have to do the same exact things that Brynn’s family does.” I was pretty certain, after all, that Brynn wasn’t sleeping with a professor.

“I know, I just feel it’s more symbolic, really,” my mother said. “I’m not saying I think we should be doing the same exact things, but . . . it just got me thinking and wondering if maybe there was something else that we could have been doing.”

I shook my head. “No, Mom,” I said. “Anyway, I didn’t come down here to talk about Brynn and her family traditions.” I sat down at the table next to her. “Why don’t you show me some of these scrapbook pictures you have?”

I sat down next to her, and she handed me a stack of photos that she’d had printed. I flipped through them—this batch seemed to be from my high school days, which now seemed like a distant memory. High school had been easy for me; even though I’d taken a full load of AP courses, it had never been that challenging. I’d had to put forth effort, sure, but it was enjoyable, never stressful. I looked at the pictures of myself, the innocent, optimistic, hopeful look on my face. I didn’t really feel like that same girl now; I certainly wasn’t innocent.

“Look at this one,” my mother said, handing me one from my graduation. “We were so proud of you that day. We’re still so proud of you. I want to get the same shot of the three of us when you graduate from college. And then I’ll put them together, side by side, right here on this page.”

“That’s great, Mom,” I said, handing the picture back to her.

I left later that afternoon, feeling a huge amount of guilt, and knowing that I could never let my parents find out about Leo and me.

It had been over a week since I’d emailed the paper about Hurricane Katrina, and I hadn’t gotten any more correspondence, so I was starting to wonder if it had just been a one-time thing.

I hoped so. I found myself looking at the people I came across at school, trying to figure out who it was that knew what was going on. No one’s faces gave me any clues. I was sitting in the quad, watching people walk by. After a few more minutes, I gathered my stuff and got up. I’d probably never know who sent the letter, but as long as it was over with, I guess I didn’t really care that much.

I walked into the humanities building and heard someone say my name.

“Hey, Tessa.”

It was Nick, sitting with Seth and a couple other guys from the basketball team in the lobby