What He Left Behind

Two

The class fills up quickly but, no surprise, the last person to enter is Charlie. I get the impression punctuality is not his strongest point. He scans the room and notes my presence, his eyes lingering on me. He doesn't even bother to acknowledge the teacher until the teacher addresses him.

"You're late Mr. Hemmingway," the teacher states.

"So?" he growls, scrunching up his face.

"So, I'll have to write you up for tardiness again."

"Knock yourself out," Charlie mutters, walking towards where Cara is sitting. "Move," he demands.

Cara looks up anxiously, gathering her things together. For a moment I'm left completely speechless by Charlie's sheer lack of manners, but then Cara stands up and I snap out of it. I glance at the other people in the class but no one appears fazed; it's like this is nothing out of the ordinary for them. And maybe it isn't. Maybe Charlie always calls the shots in this place so they're just used to it now. But I'm not, and I won't stand for it for one second.

"Dude, what the fuck," I utter, half-wondering if maybe it's just some weird inside joke I've misunderstood. Surely no one can be that obnoxious and self-entitled.

"I want to sit here," he says casually, as though I'm the stupid one for not understanding that everyone bows down to King Charlie.

"Cara sit down," I instruct, before lightly pushing Charlie away, "Charlie, go and sit over there."

"I just said I want to sit here," he patronises, looking at me like I'm thick.

"Yeah but there's already someone sitting here so you're gonna have to sit somewhere else, aren't you?" I patronise back.

I know the whole class is staring at me wide-eyed and in shock – God forbid someone question the orders of thee Charlie Hemmingway – but all I can see is Charlie's chocolate brown eyes burning with rage as he tries unsuccessfully to stare me down.

"Charlie, sit over there please," the teacher says, finally looking up from the paperwork he was previously engrossed in. Charlie stares at me for a second longer and I hold his gaze, refusing to cave. Eventually, he gives in, muttering something under his breath before going to sit in the seat I told him to.

For the remainder of the class, I find myself preoccupied, reeling from my altercation with Charlie. I can't figure him out at all. Does he honestly think he possesses some kind of superiority that means he's more entitled than everyone else? Did his parents forget to teach him how to not be an asshole? Was he dropped on his head at birth? Who knows? All I know for sure is that I definitely will not be tolerating any of his shit.

---

When class finishes, I gather my things and leave the room quickly, although I'm still beaten by Charlie who is already stood leaning against the lockers opposite the classroom when I get into the hall. His eyes fall on me and without even having to ask, I know he's waiting for me.

"A word," he demands, walking a couple of paces down the hall and opening the door to an empty classroom, motioning for me to go inside. I hesitate but go inside without argument, dropping my bag to one of the desks and perching on another. Charlie shuts the door before turning to me expectantly.

"If you're waiting for an apology, you're not gonna get one. I'll tell you that now," I assure.

"Trust me," he scoffs, "I know better than to expect an apology."

"You do?" I ask irately.

"You're a woman," he says plainly. I roll my eyes, not at all surprised that his underdeveloped brain thinks like that.