Page 7 of The Teacher of Nothing
Mr. Park’s gaze is cutting into me, hot and unapologetic. The fiery heat of it leaves a trail over my skin. The urge to look away prickles through me, but a stubborn streak, hidden deep within keeps me motionless.
I’m not imagining this.
His brows deepen in their frown and his lips press together. A sudden wave of panic skitters through me as I wonder if I said those words aloud.
Smack!
I jolt in surprise when Nick slams my test down on my desk. Precise red ink mars the top of the paper.100% - Nice work, Miss Reyes.
Nice work.
My stomach flutters at the note. He’s never written anything on my work before. It feels like a secret message between the two of us. Glancing up, I find him watching me intently. A rare smile tugs at my lips. His own lips twitch and then he winks at me.
Winks!
Heat floods through me. I’m not going insane. My teacher,Callum, is flirting with me. This isn’t some fantasy or dream. It’s real.
“Willa got the only A,” Nick grumbles, tossing the last test on someone’s desk. “I wonder how she got that.”
The room erupts in a cacophony of sexual grunts and moans. Humiliation burns hot in my gut. My test—that I’d been elated over just moments before—crumples in my tight grip. Tears threaten, but I blink hard, fiercely keeping them at bay.
“Out,” Mr. Park growls. “Get out of my classroom right now.”
“Mr. Park,” Nick whines. “I was just kidding—”
“OUT!”
I flinch at the booming order. My palms are clammy and my heart is beating a hundred miles per second.
Nick mutters under his breath about what a dick Mr. Park is but doesn’t speak it loud enough for him to hear. The classroom grows deathly quiet as Nick leaves.
Is everyone staring at me?
I just want this day to be over with.
“Now that you’ve all had your childish fun, open your Chromebooks. You’ll find today’s assignment waiting. After the lecture, I expect you all to complete the assignment and pass it with flying colors.”
With shaking hands, I shove my test into my backpack and then pull out my computer. It feels like everyone is watching me.
Except for Mr. Park.
It’s almost as though he’s avoiding looking at me. Is he embarrassed too? To be called out for our flirtatious exchange?
Dread coils in the pit of my stomach.
Maybe I should request a schedule change. I’ll have him next semester too. Can I really put up with another several months of feeling like this?
Each of my breaths grows more shallow than the previous ones. I’m lightheaded and dizzy. Panic attacks aren’t unusual for me, but they don’t often happen at school. Home is where these feelings tend to render me immobile.
Breathe, Willa. Breathe.
It’s hard to breathe, though, when you feel your world closing in around you. My vision darkens around the edges and I fear I might pass out. Because that won’t be embarrassing or anything.
Mr. Park’s deep voice draws me out of my inner turmoil. As he begins his lecture, discussing statistical inference and confidence intervals, the tension in my neck and shoulders slowly releases. I fall victim to the hypnotic, calming cadence of his words.
All my worries, for a moment, have ceased to exist.
The only thing remaining is him.
