Not Yet (20 page)

The boys weren’t going to like my presence, but they
could be as pissed as they wanted at my interruption. Landon and
Dean skipped my after school detention, and I had a pretty good
idea that this was where they went instead. It wasn’t surprising
that they feared their coach’s anger over missing practice more
than mine for skipping detention, but it didn’t mean I was going to
just roll over and take it. Not a chance in hell.

A loud whistle blew and a deep growl overcame the
noise from the team. They immediately quieted and looked downward
as Tommy Stone walked through his players toward me.

“Ms. Harris. How are you today?” Coach Stone was
married to Sam. He was kind and polite to me but an aggressive,
punishing coach. In fact, I was counting on that.

I smiled at Tommy as he came to the fence where I was
standing. He was in his late thirties, with jet black hair that was
balding in the back. He wore a visor and sunglasses that were
attached by a thick cord, so he wouldn’t lose them in one of his
tirades. Sam told me this was usually when someone missed a tackle
or ran a post, rather than a crossing route… whatever the hell that
meant. Tommy was stocky and of medium height, but he looked like he
could throw any one of his players against a wall with ease. Which
was, again, exactly what I was counting on.

“Coach Stone.” I leaned against the fence as he
leaned sideways towards me on the other side. “I am having some
behavior—mostly respect—issues with a few of your senior players.
In fact, I issued detention today to Dean Goldsmith and Landon
Washington, but they never showed up. They aren’t here, are
they?”

“They sure are. Sam told me those meatheads were
bothering you. I am more than happy to help you end this right
now.” He looked genuinely pissed and not like I was annoying him,
as I feared. He was a man that demanded respect and demanded that
his boys respect everyone around them, all the time.

The team watched our interaction as the coach
motioned both boys over to us. In all fairness, Landon hadn’t been
disrespectful to me in class and, in fact, was defending me from
Dean’s comments, but he did choose to skip detention, and I
couldn’t let him off the hook for that. If for no other reason than
I didn’t ever want it to appear that I was taking it easy on him,
or making an exception in his case.

Also, he may not have been rude to me, but he was
rude to other students in the past, and I was still so furious at
him for lying to me. He whipped off his helmet as he jogged over,
his jaw tightly clenched in anger. I smiled, a little nervously,
because I wasn’t exactly sure what was about to happen, and
shrugged my shoulders at him. It was the same half-embarrassed
shrug he gave me on the first day of school. He shook his head at
me and finally grinned back, knowing he deserved whatever was
coming. I inhaled sharply when I saw that grin. It was the same one
he wore before he kissed me. A flood of memories raced through me,
and I suddenly wanted to beg Tommy to not discipline him
too
harshly.

Tommy made Dean and Landon line up against the fence,
and he laid into each of them for being disrespectful, threatened
to pull them out of the game, and assigned them an extra hour in
the weight room for the next two weeks. He then forced them to
apologize to me and sent them off to run hills as the rest of their
team yelled insults at them and pegged footballs at their heads.
There was nothing off-limits when it came to Indiana high school
football.

Tommy made me promise to tell him if they so much as
breathed at me the wrong way and I thanked him profusely, feeling
some guilt, but mainly control, over my life for the first time in
many weeks.

Homecoming at Zionsville Academy was a huge ordeal.
While the dance itself was held in the gymnasium, the kids treated
it like a mini-prom. Not having attended many high school dances, I
couldn’t believe the students rolling up in stretch limos. Girls
with their hair professionally styled, and decked out in sequined
dresses. Boys sporting new buzz cuts, or hair spiked with gel, and
wearing tailored suits.

A disco ball spun around the ceiling of the gym,
causing rainbow colored lights to scatter around the floor. The
low-rent DJ was stationed underneath one of the basketball hoops,
and he had fog machines billowing out clouds of a smelly burnt
plastic stench into the air. This year’s theme was
The
Jungle
, so several art classes had painted scenes with
rainforest backgrounds and lions, elephants, and monkeys. That was
about all the student council budget had allocated for the dance.
Balloons and streamers were considered “fancy” decorations and were
saved until Junior Prom. The DJ played the Katy Perry song,
Roar
, and the festivities were underway.

No snacks or drinks were allowed inside the gym, but
I passed tables of sodas and chips for sale in the hallway. To
allow room for dancing, only one set of bleachers was left unfolded
and those benches were already filling with students whose parents
had undoubtedly forced them to attend the dance against their will.
I waved to a few of my freshman in the stands and assumed my
chaperone post.

I was assigned a spot on the side of the gym, closest
to the entry doors. I was to supervise the lower left portion of
the gym, while another teacher monitored the upper left, another
the lower right, and so on. Each of us would also take turns
keeping an eye on the bathrooms, snack area, or parking lot during
the dance. During my debriefing, I was surprised at how little
intervening I was really required to do at a dance. Unless there
was fighting, alcohol, weaponry, nudity, or actual fornication, I
could stand by and smile. Knowing my students, they would be
pushing the nudity and fornication rules to the absolute limits
tonight.

From my position, I watched all the students enter
the dimly lit gymnasium. As anyone could have predicted, the
football team was particularly raucous. They had just won the game
against their biggest rival. They were headed for the State
championship game in a few weeks and were feeling very confident.
Landon had caught two touchdowns during the game, one of which was
an amazing one-handed grab that deserved to be on Sports Center—at
least that’s what the teachers were saying in the lounge. The staff
were also talking about how well Dean and Landon played together. I
saw it firsthand the week before at the game I chaperoned.

As much I thought Dean was a pain in the ass, he
threw really well for a high school quarterback. Watching Landon
jump in the air and catch his passes was amazing. He looked
tenacious, lean, and athletic. It was hard to not picture those
large hands on me when I saw him cradle the ball. Lucky
pigskin.

The students of Zionsville poured into the gymnasium
as the music pulsed through the speakers. Couples were grinding,
groups of freshman danced awkwardly, and loners stood off to the
sides. I moved to the music, smoothing my dress down and already
regretting my choice to wear heels when I would be standing for the
next three hours. Sam had informed me that the teachers usually
dressed up for the dances as well, so I chose a simple black
sheath, which was form fitting but plain. And clear to me
now—really uncomfortable, black leather strappy heels.

I was quickly joined by Amy, who was vibrating with
excitement. “Love your shoes, Miss Harris!”

“Thanks, Amy! They’re wicked uncomfortable, though. I
guess I thought I’d be sitting down at some point tonight. Wrong.
Are you here with anyone?”

Amy looked down at her red satin pumps and frowned.
“Never had a date before. I go to every dance, anyway. Mom tells me
to come. Great memories or something.” She looked embarrassed as
she watched couples slow dance around the room.

I didn’t have many high school memories of my own,
and I found myself wondering why I wasn’t confident enough, like
Amy, to attend the dances. I wished I had loosened up and lived a
little more in my younger years. And my older years. Okay, all my
years.

“She’s right, Amy. I think it’s great you attend
dances, even without a date. You’ll never regret taking the chance
and getting out there. Plus, now I get to see a friendly face. It’s
a win for me!” A huge grin spread across her round face, and I
couldn’t hold back my own.

Zionsville Academy had the honor of being a FALS
school. FALS, or Functional and Learning Support, was a program
that a few schools in the state offered so that students with
special needs could find the right educational balance for their
particular situation. Some students in the program were taught
basic “life skills” in their classroom with a special educator and
then joined the rest of the school population for classes, like
physical education, art, and music—often with an assigned “buddy.”
Students in the FALS program were elated to be a part of Zionsville
Academy. I knew, unequivocally, that it was the broader student
body that were the lucky ones—if they would only open themselves up
to the experience.

Other FALS students, like Amy, were transitioned into
academic classes with the help of a paraeducator to provide
individual support. Amy had dealt with being teased by students,
being ignored or babied by teachers, and progressing through high
school with no real friends. Yet, she persevered. She continued to
strive for more and more independence, and she showed us all that
she wouldn’t stop until she got it.

I was in awe of her—and I could learn a hell of a lot
from her.

Amy, like Evie, also loved to dress up and was
wearing a tight, red sequined dress with her red heels. Her bright
red lipstick enhanced her happy smile, and I watched her dance
gleefully, alone but with abandon. Amy was another great example of
bravery. I needed to wear more bright lipstick, sparkly dresses,
and dance. Life was too short to miss any chance to dance. What had
been holding me back before?

More raucous cheers announced the arrival of the rest
of the football team and their dates. I scanned the crowd, anxious
to see Landon and mad at myself for still caring.

Landon walked in, dressed casually compared to other
boys, in khakis with a white dress shirt and tie. He met my eye and
nodded at me as I smiled and felt disappointed that I couldn’t
freely congratulate him on his game. Cammie clutched his hand and
pulled him closer to her. The skin tight, silver dress, she wore
was low cut in the front and backless. Cammie made sure all eyes
were on her, and her intentions with Landon were crystal clear.

Thrift Shop
, a popular dance song by
Macklemore, came on and I moved just a little to the catchy beat
until I saw it. My jaw dropped. Was I hallucinating? Cammie climbed
up on Landon, wrapped her legs around his waist, and was
grinding—humping, really—the hell out of him. He smiled at her and
whispered something in her ear. Bile rose up in my throat.

A few minutes later,
Blurred Lines
, by Robin
Thicke, played and students screamed and began to dance in small
groups. The irony of the title of the song was not lost on me. How
I had unintentionally let the lines blur between my personal and
professional lives still astounded me.

I looked over to check on Amy, still alone, but
dancing wildly to the beat. When I turned around again, I was
surrounded. Dean, Jon, and Ricky were dancing crudely around me in
a circle. They weren’t touching me, but they were jutting their
hips forward, hysterical in laughter. I frowned, feeling
bewildered, when Dean leaned in closer.

“We’re sorry about how the year started, Ms. Harris.
We were just having fun. We’re all excited to be assigned the
hottest teacher at the school. We’ll behave, though—promise.” He
winked and continued his crazy dancing. I couldn’t contain my
laughter at their wild moves. I had to give it to them—they never
crossed the line, but they did cause quite a scene. Landon watched
the group carefully, still wrapped tightly around Cammie. Just when
I thought I would die from laughing, and mortification, two arms
broke through and wrapped around me in a tight, protective
grasp.

Turning back, Ford was there holding me. Landon’s
expression changed from playful to stormy as he untangled himself
from Cammie’s claws and approached the group. Ford leaned down and
whispered in my ear, “Here to rescue you, Ms. Harris.”

I smiled and he released me, putting his arm around
my shoulder.

“Back off boys. A real man is present.”

Dean, Ricky, and Jon took off to find their dates,
howling with amusement, while Landon glowered furiously as Ford
focused on him.

“Problem, Mr. Washington? Don’t you have a very eager
date to get back to? I saw you before. Your method of dancing is
illegal in most states.” Ford stared straight at Landon coolly,
challenging him, and I glanced over to see Cammie glaring at
me.