Eight
It should be a crime to be up this early and yet my body thought it was okay. I turned my head to the clock, stifling a groan when I saw that it was only 5:30 in the morning. Caden was still sleeping beside me, his face partially buried in his pillow. I carefully removed the comforter and decided to shower. As I was towel drying my hair in the mirror, I thought back to the morning that Caden had woken me up abruptly. How incredibly rude of him to scream in my ear while I was sound asleep. How equally rude of me to take this long to plot my revenge.
I pursed my lips and walked around the apartment, thinking of ways that I could wake him. A cold bucket of water was a classic, but also messy, and it was my bed too so I didn't want it ruined. I could change his alarm to something obnoxiously loud and scary. Shaking my head, I walked into the kitchen and searched through the drawers. I grabbed two pans and smiled to myself. Simple but effective.
I eased the bedroom door open, peeking my head inside to see if Caden was still sleeping. It was almost six and he didn't have to be up for another hour, an hour he desperately needed because he went to bed around midnight. I stepped onto the bed slowly and stood with my feet on either side of him. I lowered the pans to his ears and banged them against each other harshly.
Caden jumped up, screaming loudly, and clashed his head against the pan. I laughed as he grabbed onto his forehead and fell back onto the bed, groaning as he did so. He finally looked up at me.
"Diem, what time is it?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Oh, I would say about 5:45. Rise and shine, sleepyhead."
His eyes widened. Before I could move, he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around my bare legs, pulling me onto the bed. I yelped as my body bounced against the mattress. Caden twisted and hovered over me slightly.
"Why'd you wake me up so early?"
"It's not good to waste your life away, Cadey. Up and at 'em." I reached up to pinch his cheek but he slapped my hand away. A slow smile stretched across his face as he looked down at me.
"You're going to pay for this."
I tilted my head and held his gaze. "Is that a promise?"
He leaned down, causing my heart to slow in anticipation of him getting closer. Caden brought his lips to my ear, pressing his body slightly into mine. "I do remember you saying I can have you in any way I want. Maybe your punishment will be not having me."
And then his body was gone, but the heat remained. It filled my cheeks and slowly made its way down my body until I felt it in my toes. Caden was going to be the death of me and my true punishment was having to live with him.
***
According to all of the girls in my class, Mr. Livingston looked really good today. He was in gray quarter zip with a white dress shirt underneath and a pair of black dress pants. I tried to make it a habit of thinking of him as Mr. Livingston, the teacher, whenever we were on school grounds and not Caden, the roommate. Despite how annoying and brainless some of my classmates could be, they were quick to latch onto possible gossip and never let go.
The last thing I needed was for my name to travel through these dingy halls and reach Dustin's ears. If he was bad now, I didn't want to imagine how he'd get if he heard I was messing around with a teacher, the best looking one this school has apparently seen. The nightmare I had a couple of nights ago would become a reality.
I tapped my pencil against the desk as I waited for class to start. I was impressed with Dustin, really. Despite how fast information travels in this school, he managed to keep his craziness a secret. Although, I guess I should be partially credited for his success. I never argued with him in public, never displayed the bruises he created, never told anyone about who he had become. I didn't keep Dustin's dirty secret to spare him, though. I did it because I didn't want anyone talking about me or looking at me differently. I wanted to be left alone, and if I had to suffer because of it, then that's the price I was willing to pay for my privacy.
"Alright everyone, pass up your homework assignment."
I rolled my eyes as I took the packet out of my binder. Mr. Livingston tended to give us homework every night. Some nights he'd give huge assignments that were due the next day as if his class was our only class and the most important one. If I was going to suffer, then I made sure he suffered as well. I did my homework at the dining room table near the living room, purposely saying the wrong answers out loud to stress Mr. Livingston out as he tried to relax and watch TV. Whenever I was actually stuck on a problem or saw that he gave us a long and tedious question, I cursed and criticized the school's standards for hiring faculty and said they must have been desperate.
He collected all of our papers and stored them in a manila folder. "Today we'll be doing a lab so I need you all to get into your lab groups at one of the tables in the back. The necessary supplies are already out so get dressed and read the instructions before we get started."
My group chose a table in the back corner. I put on a pair of goggles and a black apron and listened as one of my classmates read out the instructions. We divided the tasks amongst ourselves. Some people measured and weighed the items we needed while others prepped the equipment by cleaning beakers and setting up our bunsen burner. Mr. Livingston was circling the classroom, stopping at each table to inspect our progress and point out any mistakes people were making if it was a dangerous mistake to make. Otherwise, he let us mess up and figure it out on our own, forcing us to try over and over again until we got the desired result.
When he reached our table, I was attempting to pour liquid from a beaker into a test tube but my hands shook as I did so. Mr. Livingston leaned closer to me as he watched, his gaze alternating between the beaker in my hand and my face.
"I'm glad I have such an effect on you, Ms. Reynolds."
I looked up at him briefly before continuing to pour. "Don't flatter yourself, sir. My hands always shake, no matter what I do or who I'm around."
It was a sad truth and also one of the reasons I could never go into a profession that required steady hands. They shook when I poured myself a drink, when I painted or did crafts, or when I did my makeup. It was almost as if they knew I needed them to be still and defied me on purpose.
My group finished the lab somewhat early so we sat down at the desks and began working on our lab report together. I finished my questions but waited for the others to finish so that we could compare our answers. As I waited, I went over to Mr. Livingston who was sitting at his desk and reviewing the homework he assigned the other day.
"Can I help you, Ms. Reynolds?" he asked, looking up from his sheet and leaning back in his chair.
"I just wanted to let you know that I have an away game tonight so I won't be back until seven."
He pursed his lips momentarily and then smiled. The mischievous glint in his eyes gave away that he was hiding something.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing."
"Liar."
"That's no way to talk to a teacher."
I smiled and leaned forward on his desk. "I am so sorry, sir. Please find it in your heart to forgive me."
Mr. Livingston rolled his eyes and motioned for me to go back to my desk and being the good student that I always was, I decided to listen.
***
I found Cassie by one of the benches outside during lunch. We needed a break from the sad excuse our school called food and opted to go to the small pizza place on the corner of the street. Most seniors went there for lunch but I often avoided it because most of our time was spent waiting in line.
After twenty minutes, we got our slices of pizza. It was greasy, thick, and needed two paper plates to hold it, but the best thing about it was that it was only two dollars. Cassie managed to find a small table in one of the corners and we decided it was better than attempting to walk and eat at the same time.
"You know, I have dreams about that man," Cass said, taking a large bite of her pizza.
I smiled and looked around, making sure that no one was listening to us. "Caden or Jackson?"
"Hm, Caden," she said his name slowly, testing it on her tongue as she considered her answer. "If you asked me a week ago, I would have said Caden but now I only have eyes for Jackson. You know he called me ma'am when he needed to squeeze by me? Normally I'd be grossed out, but it sounded hot coming from him."
I smiled and rolled my eyes. Cassie would absolutely eat Jackson alive. No amount of police training would prepare him for her. I was almost tempted to make it happen because it would be amusing to watch. I wouldn't do anything unless either of them asked though, figuring it would be better to let something unfold on its own rather than forcing it on people. Besides, Jackson could be dating someone already. I always thought he was single, but I never asked.
"Besides," Cass said, pulling me from my thoughts, "you're already obsessed with Caden so he's off-limits."
"I am not," I said, shifting in my seat. "I have Dustin."
Cassie scoffed. "Dustin is not endgame, Dee. People rarely stay with their high school boyfriends and Dustin is just a boy. Caden is--"
"Please don't say he's a man," I groaned, cringing slightly.
"He is a man. A six-foot, green-eyed, well-dressed man with a job and no time to play around."
I resisted the urge to tell her just how much he played around. If it wasn't for me, he'd probably have girls over every night, fucking them in every room but his bedroom. What man doesn't let women spend the night at his house after doing the deed? What man doesn't let women into his bed? Dustin wasn't a man, but I wasn't so sure that Caden was.
We made our way out of the pizza house. As we descended the steps, I caught a glimpse of Dustin near the crosswalk. He was standing with a few of his football friends and smoking a cigarette. He didn't smoke them often, but when someone offered him one he took it. He blew the smoke from his lips and turned his head, catching my eye. It was the first time we saw each other since the club. I could still see a small cut on the bottom of his lip, courtesy of Jackson. No doubt he told people he got it from football practice.
Rather than going to him, I grabbed Cass by the elbow and turned toward the school. We only had a few minutes left before the bell for next period rang.
The rest of the school day went by quickly. When the final bell rang, I made my way down to the girl's locker room to change into my uniform. I decided to only put on my jersey and shorts since we had time to put on our socks, shin guards, and cleats on the bus.
After tying my hair, I grabbed one of the ball bags and made my way to the school bus waiting for us in the loop. Some of the girls were already outside, their hair still down and their shorts rolled up way more than necessary. I raised my eyebrows. They normally didn't wear them like that and my coach sure as hell wouldn't ever let them.
When I got closer, I finally understood what was causing people to act strangely. Mr. Livingston stood at the bus door with a couple of the players standing close by and talking to him. I dropped the ball bag, causing everyone to turn toward me, including an amused Mr. Livingston.
He excused himself from the group and stepped closer to me.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked.
"Your coach asked me to assist her today since the assistant coach can't make it."
"You don't even know soccer!"
"I played in high school."
"Prehistoric times?"
"Ha-ha."
Before I could respond, my coach made it to the bus and noticed the girls near the front. "Unroll your shorts," she said.
"But coach, they're too long."
"They weren't too long a couple of days ago. Unroll your shorts or don't bother getting on the bus."
I smiled to myself and turned toward Mr. Livingston, setting the ball bag down at his feet. "These babies go in the back, coach." I winked and climbed onto the bus.
The bus ride to the stadium was almost an hour long. When we made it there, we found the restrooms and finished getting ready before stepping onto the field. We did our warm-up laps and stretches on one half of the field. The opposing team was on the other half, doing similar stretches and taking pictures before the game. Before we started, we had to form two lines and shake hands with each member of the opposite side. It was alright for the most part, except for the overdramatic girls who decided to add a little force to the handshakes.
I took my position as the right fullback and waited for the referee's whistle to blow. I loved being a defender. Defenders didn't get enough credit. A lot of people just thought we stood around all game, but a game is won by its defenders. It doesn't matter how good your strikers are if you have a shitty defense that leaves the back open. As a defender, you had to know a player's move before they made it. You couldn't mess up because a simple mistake could mean a goal-scoring opportunity for the other team.
I felt Mr. Livingston's eyes on me the entire game. In the beginning, I fumbled the ball a little because I was too busy thinking about him. After a couple of minutes, I managed to ignore him and pay attention to the game. We played the opposing team multiple times in the past and each game was usually competitive. There were twenty minutes left to this one and it was still goalless. One of the midfield players from the other team kept giving me a hard time. She aggressively pushed into me using her elbows and shoulders even when I didn't have the ball at my feet. The referee told us to knock it off several times, which only pissed me off because I hadn't done anything except respond to her jabs.
She approached me with the ball and I backpedaled and kept my eyes on it. When she took a bad touch on the ball, I stepped forward and took it from her. She must have not liked it very much because she extended her leg and caught my foot, causing me to fall. The ref blew his whistle and the ball sat a foot away from me. The girl pretended she was aiming to kick it as if she didn't hear his whistle, and her cleat caught my face.
I screamed and grabbed my mouth, but I didn't feel any pain. All I could feel was anger as I looked up at girl who had a hand over her mouth, feigning innocence. I jumped up from the ground and charged at her.
"You stupid little bitch!" I screamed. I was almost near her. My fingers brushed against her face when an arm wrapped around my torso and pulled me backward. I screamed again, thrashing against the body in hopes that I would get free.
"Calm down, Diem." I recognized the voice as Mr. Livingston's, but I didn't have time to respond. All my attention was on the girl in front of me.
"You did that on purpose! The ball was nowhere near me." I tried to pull away from Mr. Livingston but his arms wouldn't budge and it was only pissing me off further. He began to walk me away from the field, but I continued to look at the girl. "We'll play each other again. Wear a helmet because my kicks actually have some bite to them."
My coach had Mr. Livingston take me to the other team's trainer to get my mouth checked out. The trainer cleaned up my busted lip and offered me an ice pack. It was there that I learned that not only did I have a busted lip and a sore jaw, but I had a chipped front tooth that hurt like hell whenever I took a sharp breath or a sip of water.
Instead of returning to the game, Mr. Livingston and I walked back to the school bus. He carried my stuff on his shoulder, wanting me to focus on applying the ice pack to my jaw. I looked up at him, ignoring the concern in his eyes.
"Now when I tell you I got a busted lip from soccer, you'll have to believe me."
"Not funny, Diem."
"Well, I thought it was funny."
I tried to go to the back of the bus, but Caden stepped in front of me, motioning to the seat across from his. I groaned, not wanting to sit near him for almost an hour. I had adrenaline to numb my pain, but I knew it would only last for a little longer. Soon the real pain would start and I didn't want him watching me cry and moan about it. Not to mention that I had a freaking chipped tooth, one that was on full display to everyone. I looked like a complete idiot and I had to look like an idiot in school until I went to the dentist to fix it.
"Keep the ice pack on," he said when I lowered my hand.
"My hands are getting cold."
"Come here." He slid to the end of his seat and motioned for me to come forward as well. When I didn't move, he titled his head to the side and spoke again. "Diem, I'm serious."
I sighed, ignoring the pain that filled my mouth as a result, and scooted closer to him. He grabbed the ice pack from my lap and gingerly placed it on my jaw. His free hand went to my other cheek and I rested my head against it, closing my eyes for a moment.
"Is this okay?" he asked.
"Mhm," I mumbled. His thumb massaged my cheek back and forth but managed to avoid any sore spots on my face. After a few minutes, I heard the team begin to approach the bus. I pulled away from Caden, thanking him for his help, and slid towards the window. I pulled my hoodie over my head and pretended to fall asleep, not wanting to talk to anyone or have them see any tears slide down my cheeks.