Page 22 of Between the Lines
“I’ve broken his behaviors down by class period and day of the week. I ran it by Lucy. Actually, she was really helpful in the beginning, when I was initially having trouble with Rocco. She’s been a really great resource.”
Not only has Claire been handling this all along, but she sought out the counselor, too? Bile churns its way up my throat at how utterly wrong I have been this entire time.
“So, the reason I’m coming to you is that I had an idea—one we could potentially pilot with Rocco, and then use with other students if we find it successful.”
She isn’t even talking to me at this point. She’s wholly focused on the presentation that she put together, and I do my best to be zeroed in on that as well, as she details the mentorship program she wants to implement. A check-in, check-out system. Once during homeroom, and once at the end of the day, with the same male teacher, to build up the relationships that Rocco is struggling to maintain since his parent’s divorce.
I can’t form words. I’m stuck between the rock of praising her idea and the hard place of my misguidedness.
“I’m overstepping, aren’t I?” She interrupts the electrical short-circuit that seems to have happened in my brain. My gaze tics up to her, and her blush has transformed from cotton candy pink to maroon in my silence. I swallow the ball in my throat. My attitude,mynerves, have spurred this feeling of inadequacy on her. Something sharp lodges in my chest, and I rub at it.
“I’m so sorry if I’m overstepping, Mr. Harding. I know I’m only here as a long-term, but?—”
“No. No this is excellent, Ms. Benson. I was just trying to process the information.”
Her cheeks fade back to pink at my praise, and I curse my cock for stirring in my slacks.
“Thank you.”
I nod in an attempt to shake the amalgam of feelings, indicating toward the folder and the fan of spreadsheets. She nods, and I collect them, running them through the copier to make my own set.
“I’ll speak with Ms. Lucy tomorrow, and we can get a meeting set up later this week to choose a potential mentor that we think would suit Mr. Thatcher.”
She nods.
“Oh. We already talked, and we’re thinking of Aaron Russo. He’s on board, but of course, the decision is up to you. Thank you so much for hearing me out. I just want to do well by these students while I’m here.”
Her smile is pursed, like she’s nervous to unveil it wholly to me. I don’t blame her. I’ve been nothing but cold to her. She stands to excuse herself, and it isn’t until she’s halfway out the door that I call after her.
“Ms. Benson?”
She pauses with her hand on the doorframe, and turns back around.
“I’m sorry. For misjudging you at the beginning of our meeting. For making assumptions. For the shortness with which I’ve been treating you. It has been both unprofessional and uncalled for.”
She nods, slowly, her grip tightening on the doorframe, and I have towillmyself to look away from her slim fingers, from imagining them from tightening elsewhere.
“Thank you. For the apology. And for the help.”
We’re at a stalemate. I swallow, then inhale, filling my chest to capacity, and she seems to do the same along with me. I nod, and as she returns the gesture, she lifts her smile, her eyes sparkling as it turns up. I don’t know what possesses me, but Ihaveto keep talking to her.
“This project shows great potential. What is your plan after you’re finished at River Valley?”
“Oh, I…” Her shoulders slump, and I have the sudden urge to cross the room and catch her. “I don’t have one yet. I’m still figuring all of that out.”
Part of me tenses with all of the ways I’ve already misjudged her. I tilt my head, indicating for her to continue. Her lips part, and as I feel the universe beginning to shift, her eyes dart to the clock above my head.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, I’ve gotta go. Zoey has cello tonight.”
She rushes out the door, smoke nipping at her heels, leaving me alone to pick up the pieces of whatever just happened here.
eleven
nathan
I can’t decidewhich is higher: my anxiety, or the mountain of financial paperwork I have yet to sift through.
My brother, Cal, and I have never wanted for anything. My parents were both doctors. Even after their tragic death, evenaftermy brother’s cancer treatments, they still left us both with college funds, inheritance, and enough to maintain our childhood home.