Page 29 of Atticus
It’s hard not to feel singled out. And I suspect it’s because I’m not only the newcomer from a big city she doesn’t like, I’m the only teacher with an android in her classroom. Not because he was assigned, but because I wanted him there.
She doesn’t trust me. I don’t think she ever will.
I bite my tongue because I want to let loose. So what if I lose my job here? What’s the worst that could happen? My dad would call and tell me to move back home, like the last time my life fell apart. That I have a room waiting for me. A safety net.
But then I might lose Atticus. Who knows who they’d give him to, or if they’d just power him down and store him somewhere?
And I can’t leave. Not now. Now when I’ve grown to care about these kids.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
* * *
By the time I reach my car, I’m not only discouraged. I’m positively fuming.
Atticus can see it written all over my face as I storm toward him. “What’s the matter?” he asks, no longer seeming at ease, but alert with concern knitted into his brow.So human. “What happened?”
I drop into the passenger seat as he slips behind the steering wheel. He’s fully synced with my sedan, and it activates when he touches the steering wheel.
“Carlisle is the most—” I throw up my hands, finally devolving into a tantrum I’ve been holding in all month. “She labels kids and just dismisses them as bad or good. She decides their futures for them based on shallow assumptions and ignores that there’s always underlying factors that contribute to their behavior.”
Exasperated, I turn to him. He’s gazing intently at me. My fury dies as my energy dissipates. “I’m sorry, Atticus. I just...This isn’t why I came to St. Morgan. I thought maybe I could make a difference here. Instead, it’s just one obstacle after another. Either I have to be silent or say things I don’t agree with to adhere to a certain policy. It’s like every aspect of my career is under lock and key. I could do so much good, but I’m being held back.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me,” he reassures me. He’s at ease when he drives, leaning back with one hand on the steering wheel. He turns it expertly with pressure from his palm. “It must be very frustrating. You’re irritated. It’s understandable.”
We roll up to my parking space in front of my apartment. “Was that why you left New Carnegie?” he continues, his rich voice low and gentle, like he means to coax the answer right out of me.
It almost works. “No.” I look away.
“Then why?”
I could tell him. Right here, right now. I could tell him why I’ve been fighting my apprehension about taking over the school’s social media accounts, for the betterment of Atticus and the kids and the community. I could share why I don’t like my pictures taken anymore. I could let everything that’s been boiling up inside me finally burst, lean on him like I haven’t leaned on anyone, not for a while. It’s so tempting. His white eyes, soft and imploring, gazing through me and beckoning me to trust in him. It couldn’t hurt, could it? Who would he tell? Would he think less of me? Is he even capable of judging my character?
But I can’t. There’s something terrifying about confiding in someone. It’s opening your heart and being vulnerable. I don’t have a good track record with that.
I can barely admit my shortcomings to myself, let alone someone else.
I’m not ready. “I’ll tell you someday. Butnot today. Is that okay?”
Atticus studies me for a moment before he exits the car and walks around to my door, opening it for me. He extends a hand to me and smiles with a nod. “Not today.”
I catch a whimper in my throat before it sounds. Opening my door for me, helping me in the classroom, showing genuine interest in me as a person, listening when I vent.
He just keeps checking boxes I never thoughtanyonewould check.
What is Atticus doing to me?
* * *
Attempting somewhat poorly to wash off the day with a shower, I stand in the water and stare at my feet, wringing shampoo from my hair. I try to tell myself this crush is minuscule, that it’s just me being emotional because of what happened at the school today, but deep down I know myself better.
Reasoning my attraction away isn’t working, so the only other options I have are distraction and redirection. I can always stare at the ceiling while I lay in bed and dissect everything that’s probably wrong with me later. I need something to take my mind off this now. There’s only one answer.
Amber, my best friend.
If anyone can talk sense into me, she can. She always does. She and I met in college at Carnegie State. She even took an Ancient Literature class with my dad to knock out one of her generals for her degree in journalism. Her family is an old one. They’ve been in the New Carnegie area for, like, two entire centuries. I think her ancestors helped build the place, and I’m pretty sure they owned the city in more ways than one during Prohibition.
