Rewriting History (5 page)

I didn’t mention my meeting with Galleu and Dad, because I don’t want her distracted leading into exams. More than that, though, I don’t want to deal with the argument I know this is going to bring. I need to find the right way to explain to her why we need to cool things for the rest of the year. I want to be with her, but being her sub is one thing. I can force myself to believe that’s okay. As her full-time, permanent teacher? I’m not sure I can.

I toss my phone aside and grab some leftover pizza from the fridge, throwing it in the microwave for a few minutes. I live on takeout—partly because I’m so damn busy after being left without a syllabus to follow for the rest of the year, but mainly because I’m lazy. Jill is always on at me about cooking for myself. Tomorrow I plan to cook her a three-course meal, which will either be a total disaster or totally amazing.

My phone rings after dinner. I shove my empty plate aside and check the number. It’s one of my other sisters, Jules. I click
answer
, knowing this is going to be another lecture about Dad.

“Hey.” I sigh, rubbing my head.

“I thought you were coming around to see Dad.”

“I work with him,” I remind her. “I see him nearly every day.” I might have taken over his classes, but unfortunately for me, he is still the assistant principal.

“It’s not the same, Eli, and you know it.”

“Well it would’ve been nice for someone to inform me of his upcoming surgery,” I say sarcastically.

This is almost word-for-word the conversation I had with Mel. Don’t those two communicate? Thank God my oldest sister, Leisel, lives in London. I don’t think I could handle all three of them on me.

“Look, Jules, I have to go. I’ll come by on Saturday, okay?”

After hanging up with Jules, I start to feel guilty.  Clearly Dad’s heart condition is a lot worse than they’d first expected, but it’s so hard to feel any sympathy for the man who broke my mother.  And then left me to clean up the mess. He certainly didn’t receive any ‘Best Dad’ awards back then.

Taking a sip of my whiskey, I fetch my phone to text Jill.

Me: So, are you free tomorrow night?

Jill: I’ll have to check my schedule . . .

I laugh. I know she’s joking, but even the thought of not seeing her tomorrow makes me feel sick.

Me: Really? Do I need to beat someone up?

Jill: If you’re offering. I’m sure I can think of someone who could use a beat down. Of course I’m free. What do you have in mind?

Me: 23 Ninth Street, apartment forty tomorrow. Dress sexy.

Chapter Seven

Jill

It’s Thursday morning and I’m running late, no doubt due to my late-night study session and my inability to get to sleep after speaking to Eli. I smile at the thought of him.
One more day and I’m eighteen.
Then we can be together.

Since we made the decision to tone down our relationship, the most I’ve gotten out of Eli is kissing, and not seeing him during the last week has made it even harder. We both agreed to wait before we had sex again, but holy shit—if I’d known it would be this hard I would’ve fought him on it. Talk about sexual frustration. All I think about is the things I want to do to him, and the things I know he’s capable of doing to me. I can’t wait for him to work on that promise to lick me from head to toe.

After a quick breakfast, I jog the whole way to school, making it inside the door just before the final bell rings. I walk into the classroom and immediately see Eli—which does nothing for my concentration levels. I bite back my smile as my stomach fills with butterflies. Our eyes meet and we share a moment before I take my seat.

Jamie turns in his seat and glowers at me, sending a shiver down my spine. When reaches over and flicks my pencil off the desk, I’m ready to explode. I stand up and walk around to the front of my desk to retrieve it, refusing to show Jamie any sort of reaction. I’ve had just about enough of his attitude, and I’m on the verge of confronting him.

He couldn’t know . . . could he? I talk myself in and out of what he has over me every single day. I try to pretend I don’t care, but anything that could ruin what Eli and I have scares the hell out of me. Whatever it is he knows, I’m determined to find out.

As I slide back into my seat, Eli glances up, his eyes meeting mine. I stare down at my paper, my heart racing. I can barely make out the questions, I’m so wound up. Jamie chuckles softy and my fingers grip my pencil so tightly my knuckles are turning white.

I can’t believe I’m struggling to concentrate in History, of all things.

Sighing
,
I rub my sweaty palms together and force myself to push out all thoughts other than what’s in front of me as Eli announces the start of the exam. Not that it helps much. My focus is shot, and so is my confidence.

Time is called and I put my pencil down. Am I confident I rocked the hell out of the one exam I should’ve aced? No, because I know I could have done better.

My last class of the day is Algebra 2, and the second I look at the mock exam in front of me I’m kicking myself. Why the fuck would someone want to take the hardest calculus class? Why didn’t I just cruise through like the rest of the senior class on the lowest possible requirement? Damn that scholarship and my desire to go to college.

Apparently, it’s frowned upon if you don’t take this class and do well—although I might have fucked up everything anyway with my history result. Just the thought makes me feel sick.

Mrs. Judd is working through a statistics formula on the board when the girl next to me leans over. I glance her way, taking in her shoulder-length, blond, wavy hair and the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. She smiles at me and I force a smile back. I don’t make friends easily—a side effect of moving so much.

“Why would anyone take this class voluntarily?” she whispers, echoing my thoughts. Her friendly voice immediately puts me at ease.

“I was
just
thinking that.” I giggle.

“Oh, so I’m not the only one. Good. I’m new here. Well, I’ve been here for three weeks but you’re the first person to speak to me other than teachers,” she confesses. 

“I’ve only been here for a couple of months and I feel the same way.” I grin, because I know better than anyone how it feels to be the new kid. Maybe it’s not just me. Maybe it’s this damn school being so cliquey that’s part of the reason I haven’t been able to settle here.

“Oh, then you know how I feel,” she says. Her accent catches my attention and I’m wondering why I didn’t notice it earlier.

“Where are you from?” I ask curiously.

“France. I’m a student transfer, but if all goes well, I’ll stay on for college too.” She pauses. “I just love it here. My parents are very strict, so I have more freedom here than I’ve ever had.” Her cheeks are flushed, and I love how passionate she is. “I’m Sophia, by the way.”

“Jill,” I reply. “I’d love to travel. I’ve been all over the States, but never overseas.”

“Oh, you need to.” She grins. “Travel is the best. It’s something everyone should do while they’re still young enough to enjoy it.”

The thought of spending a year or two overseas experiencing another culture excites me. I’d love to take a year off before college and travel. But now I have more important things to consider—like Eli. I can’t help but wonder if things like this are going to exacerbate the different stages of life we are at. What if he’s not interested in doing the things I yearn to do? What if he feels like he’s holding me back? I swallow, an even worse thought creeping into my mind.

What if I feel like that?

Class finishes and we stand up. I have a free study period, and I discover Sophia does too so we head to the library.

“So, who are you staying with while you’re here?” I ask as we fall into line, walking across the school grounds.

“I’m on my second family, would you believe?” She laughs. “This couple is great. I had issues with the first so they moved me.”

“So, which colleges are you applying for?” I ask, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Opening up to people doesn’t come easily for me, but I’m finding her easy to talk to. My pulse quickens as I spot Eli walking in the other direction toward us. I give him a small smile and he nods.

“Ah, American boys are so cute, no?” she whispers. “Though he is no boy. Colleges—I’m applying to some all over the country.”

I laugh off her comment about Eli and keep asking her questions. By the time we reach the library, I feel as though we’ve known each other forever. The last time I clicked with someone this easily was Alice. Well, not including Eli.

Yawning, I stretch my arms behind me as my brain begs me for a break. I pull out my phone and see we have been studying for nearly two hours. Shit. I’m surprised by the amount of studying we’ve actually managed to get done.

My phone rings on the table in front of us. Eli’s name shows on the screen. Sophia glances at the vibrating phone before my fingers can quickly reject the call. I’m shaking, because I don’t know if she saw his name—not that she’d recognize it or anything, but it still feels like a close call. But then again, when you’re dating someone you shouldn’t, everything does. The last thing my new ‘friend’ needs to know is that I’m fraternizing with a fucking teacher. 

“Boyfriend?” she asks.

I blush and nod. “Yes.”

“I need to get myself some American boys, no?” She giggles.

I laugh, because she’s already reminding me so much of Alice.

“Is he cute?”

“He’s cute,” I admit. “And sweet, and sexy, and hot.” We dissolve into laughter, earning us a glare from a nearby teacher. “Do you want to get a coffee? I think my brain is going to fall out if I do any more studying right now.”

“Sure.” She nods, her cheeks pink. “I’d love that.”

“Considering you’re kind of new, like me, I’m guessing you don’t go out much?” She licks the froth off her latte as she waits for me to answer.

“Not really,” I admit. “I’ve moved so much, because my Dad is in the military, that I find it hard to connect with people. It’s easier to lose myself in books and focus on the friends I do have, if that makes sense?”

“It does.” She smiles. “But that doesn’t mean it’s healthy. Everybody needs, how do you say it . . .” She thinks for a moment before deciding on a word. “Entertainment?”

I laugh. If only she knew just how much entertainment I was getting from Eli.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t live around here?”

“Why do you say that?” I ask curiously.

“Just a feeling.” She shrugs. “I’ve watched you in class and you’re very quiet—almost sad. Like you are missing someone?” Her blue eyes twinkle and I laugh.

“It’s hard not seeing him whenever I want to,” I say. I’m careful with my wording, because I don’t want to lie to her. “You must miss your family, being so far away.”

“God, no.” She rolls her eyes. “My parents smother me until I can barely breathe. Back in France, I can’t even go to the bathroom without them knowing first.”

I can’t imagine my parents being so strict—or trying to sneak around with Eli if they were. There aren’t too many occasions where I’m thankful Dad is away so much or that Mom’s been working so many double shifts.

Sophia makes eye contact with the cute waiter who clears our empty mugs. We stand up and she leans over and hugs me. I’m surprised, until I remember that’s probably normal where she’s from.

“I’m so glad we’re friends, Jill. And just when I was beginning to think all American teenagers were unfriendly.” She laughs and I snort. That wouldn’t be far from the truth. My mind wanders to Jamie. Perfect example.

“Not all of us are,” I grin. “I’m glad to have met you too.”

We walk outside and I wave her off, and then head home in the opposite direction. I’m daydreaming, lost in my own little world, when my phone rings. Smiling as his name flashes on my screen, I press
answer
.

“Hey. Sorry I hung up on you before. I was with a friend.”

“The same friend that thinks I’m cute?” he asks and I laugh. He heard that? I wonder what else he overhears.
On second thought, I don’t want to know.

“There’s a line, Mr. Anderson, and you’re close to crossing it. Surely one teenager is enough for you?” I joke.

He groans. “Holy shit. I’m
that
guy.”

“That guy?” I repeat, laughing.

“I’m glad you find this so funny, but I’m a twenty-five-year-old dude who is excited his girlfriend is turning
eighteen
. I’m teasing you because your
teenage
friend think I’m cute.” He sighs dramatically. “I’m that guy.”

“You’re excited about my birthday?” I repeat.

“Not the point, but
yeah
. Aren’t you?” he asks, his voice husky.

I grin. He has no idea how much I’m looking forward to tomorrow.

“I honestly can’t wait.”

Chapter Eight

Eli

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

When Jill reminded me that I’m ‘that guy,’ I kind of freaked out. Because it made me realize just how much I’m risking on this relationship. I’ve spent so much time and directed so much anger into making sure I don’t repeat what my father did, and what do I do? Go and sleep with a fucking student. 

I’m sure if the secret ever got out and I was put up against a panel, I could argue that we knew each other before I was her teacher. In fact, I could prove it. But it still makes no difference as to how the education board would see it, or how Mom would see me become the person I said I’d never be.

There lies another problem: how I’m going to explain this to Mom, I have no idea. I can hide it for a while, but eventually, if it does go somewhere, people are going to find out. I can’t see Mom being supportive of Jill after what Dad put her through, let alone understanding my position.

  Neither Mom nor Dad ever sat down with me and explained what happened all those years ago. The information I have on his affair I’d pieced together myself. I laugh, because it’s funny that despite my years of ignoring my father, neither of them thought it a good idea to tell me everything that happened.

I need answers.
My feelings toward Dad, this whole thing with Jill—I’m not going to be able to move past it all until I know exactly what happened back then. Picking up the phone, I hesitate. Do I call Mom or Dad? 

Mom would be easier to talk to, but I don’t want to bring up bad memories for her. Even though she’s moved on and put it all behind her, she’s in a good place now. On the other hand, I’m not sure I can deal with whatever Dad has to say without wanting to punch the shit out of him.

“Eli.” The fatigue evident through his voice takes me by surprise, and a wave of guilt hits me. Should we be having this conversation when he’s clearly not well?

“Dad, hi.” I hesitate, debating whether or not to continue. He’s not stupid, though; he knows something is wrong by the simple fact that I called him. We haven’t spoken outside of necessity for years.

“Eli, is everything okay?” Concern laces his voice, and I sigh. I can hear the panic in his voice already, so I may as well just get this over and done with.

Running a hand through my hair, I clear my throat. “Why did you cheat on Mom?”

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, and I know to him it probably feels like it has come out of nowhere, but it hasn’t. This moment has been building up inside me for years. I’ve wanted to confront him for so long, to find out what it is I don’t know about what happened. My anger feels as raw as it did back when I was ten, trying to overhear my parents arguing in the bedroom.

“This is over and done with, Eli. Can’t we just move on?” he asks, his voice strained. “Why now?”

“Move on?” I laugh bitterly. “You robbed me of my teenage years for a quick fuck with a
teenager
.” I sit down on the edge of the sofa. My hands are shaking; I’m struggling to contain my anger. “You have no fucking idea what you put me through, Dad. What you put
Mom
through.”

“I ruined everything, I know,” he says.

He thinks I’m being dramatic
.

“What’s this about? Why now? Is this about you and Jill? God, Eli, tell me you’ve stopped seeing her,” he sighs.

“It has nothing to do with Jill and everything to do with what a cunt of a father and husband you were,” I growl. I’m angry now. “You’ve fooled the girls, but not me. I saw a side to you they didn’t.”

I shake my head, because he really has no idea. Nothing is ever his fault. The years of verbal abuse, the constant reminder that I’d never live up to his expectations—I could handle all that because that was just who he was. But what he did to Mom was the final straw.

“Seven failed suicide attempts, Dad. Years of finding her passed out on the sofa with an empty bottle of vodka by her side. I had to work, study, and care for her when she couldn’t force herself out of bed in the morning because you couldn’t keep your fucking dick in your pants.”

“Your mother . . .” His voice trails off, then he sighs. “Your mother had problems long before I cheated on her, Eli.”

“You’re right, she did. Even more reason why you should have known better.” My words are harsh, but I don’t care. All the anger pent up inside me is flowing out and I have no idea where it’s going to stop. “I need to know everything, Dad.”

  “Okay,” he mumbles.

My heart pounds as I wait for him to continue.

“I was a part-time lecturer at the University of Colorado, as well as keeping my principal duties at school,” he says. “There was a girl. Nineteen. Her name was Cecily. We just clicked. It was innocent at first, just talking. But then the conversations got more flirtatious.” He swallows.

“Did you stop for a moment to think about Mom? Or me?” I ask, raising my voice. 

“I loved your mom more than you’ll ever know. Hell . . . I still do,” he growls. “But your mom and I were going through our own set of issues. I regret it every day of my life, Eli. I can’t change what happened though. I don’t expect you to understand. The thing about fucking up is you don’t realize it until it’s too late.”

Jill springs into my mind.
My
God
,
do I know
.  She’s the first thing I think about when I wake up, and she invades my dreams every night. What if I were in Dad’s position? Would I have cheated on someone else with Jill? How can I know that? 

“Fucking years, Dad,” I yell. “I put up with years of shit from you, then living with Mom’s alcohol abuse and her depression. All because you decided to waste your family to dip your wick in some student.” My anger is spiraling out of control, which shouldn’t be surprising to me.

We all knew this wasn’t going to end well. Would I be this angry with him if he’d fucked someone the same age as him, or is it the fact that she was his student—only a few years older than I was at the time? If I’m honest with myself, what exactly is it that makes me hate him so damn much?

“Eli, if you give me a chance, you’ll see it wasn’t wasted. We can still fix—”

“Forget it, Dad. I can’t listen to any more. It’s unforgivable.” I hang up and throw the cell across the room, wincing as it bounces off the wall.

He thinks he can fix this? Fix us? I laugh. There is no fixing us.