After his fainting spell Thursday, it was decided that Angelica would handle the driving for the last day of the semester. Conner tried to take his time getting ready. The less time he had to spend in the hall before first period, the better. Classrooms promised some small measure of safety. During final exams, they would be quiet and under the watchful eyes of teachers at their sternest. The halls were a lawless place, thronging with savages. Conner's own first period was merely finishing student presentations; he'd given his Wednesday, and was in no rush. Had he been behind the wheel, he would have gladly come in late and simply taken yet another first period tardy – his first since he'd broken it off with Hailey – but Owen and Angelica needed to be on time for their own exams.
Things were about like he expected. Thanks to the miracle of social media, everyone had heard about the incident. No one had been crappy enough to actually share a picture of him lying zonked out on the floor, but some sophomore he didn't even know had caught him being dragged down the hall by DeShaun on his way to Mrs. Bissell's office. The image was captioned with a version of the story that painted him in an even less flattering light.
People pointed. People laughed. People taunted. Always a true friend when it really mattered, Owen shot back a few retorts, but there was only so much he could do. He passed Hayleigh McKnight and Jayce Deacons; she treated him to a look of condescension so profound that it if he hadn't already been so thoroughly demoralized, he might have showed everyone then and there the empress's new clothes. (Admittedly, he thought she'd lost some of Hailey's ample weight in the past few months, but still probably competed with her jock boyfriend pound for pound.)
He even passed Hailey McManus, but he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with her. She'd always been so kind to him, and after their breakup, he couldn't fathom the notion of seeking a sympathetic glance for his girl troubles. He even saw Heather once, a ways down the hallway. Conner about-faced immediately and hoped she didn't see him.
He made it to his locker without quite dying of embarrassment, where he saw another kindred spirit, Miss C. She was standing right next to his locker, and locked eyes with him as he approached, smiling sweetly and looking even prettier than usual in her festive holiday garb.
"Morning, Miss C," he said, trying to will the red out of his cheeks.
"Hi, Conner. How are you feeling?"
"Crash and burn, Fishers!" someone yelled as they walked by. He winced.
"Ya know. Like you'd expect."
She gave his shoulder a little squeeze. "I was wondering. Do you have a first period exam? It's my prep period, and I could use a hand with a few things."
"Um, we're doing presentations, but I already did mine. I could check with Mrs. Schmidt, I guess."
"Tell you what. I'll come with, give you a nudge. OK?"
Conner simply nodded and unloaded his backpack. He had to admit, there was a big change over his walk into the building and now walking alongside the young English teacher. There were still looks, still some grins, but as someone had literally thrown a bag of Beggin' Strips at him on the way in – word had it that had been his approach to asking Heather out – this was a marked improvement.
Indeed, Mrs. Schmidt looked to be overwhelmed dealing with students who'd come in with excuses rather than presentation materials, so when Miss C interjected to ask to borrow Conner, the woman just waved a hand dismissively and off they went. She didn't say a word until they were alone in the editor's office. He couldn't help but notice the sprig of plastic mistletoe over the door to the office, and once more thought bitterly of yesterday.
She invited him to take the desk chair, and perched herself on the desktop next to him. He always tried not to notice that Miss C was a flesh and blood girl – a woman, that is – but he was only now realizing how high her skirt was cut along the side, and the sheer quantity of slender thigh was immensely distracting.
"So how are you feeling today? How's your head?" she began.
"Pretty bruised... kind of a headache, but I'm binging tylenol to keep it manageable. It's definitely doing better than my ego."
"Yeah, I thought maybe. I know how kids can be."
Conner shrugged. "It happens."
"It does? Because I've been teaching for seven years, and this is a first in my experience."
"OK, so maybe it doesn't happen. Let's just hope it doesn't happen twice," he said with a weary but sincere chuckle. "Man, the party this afternoon is going to be so awkward."
"Because of Heather?"
"And Jordan, yeah."
"You don't have to worry about him. I saw to it he was suspended. I tried to get him expelled, but that was the best I could do."
"You...?!" He looked up at her in shock. "Wow, Miss C. You didn't have to do that. But thanks. That's nice of you."
She patted his cheek softly; now he was hoping his cheeks were still red from before so they wouldn't suddenly become so at her touch. "How many times do I have to tell you, Conner? When it's just us, call me Kristy."
"Right. Kristy. Sorry, I keep forgetting."
She gave one last gentle swipe with her thumb before pulling her hand away. "It's OK. Do you wanna talk about it yesterday? Might feel better to get it off your chest. I hate seeing you unhappy."
Conner shrugged. "What's there to talk about? She said she'd like to, but she's leaving for college next fall, so she doesn't want to start a relationship when she's about to leave for California."
"Well that's something, right? That she'd go out with you if not for that."
"Now if only I could get that news to spread as big as the fainting thing."
"It's her loss, Conner. You're a sweet guy, funny, cute as a button... if I were ten years younger..." She was clearly joking. He was ninety-nine percent sure. She gave him a coy wink.
Ninety-eight.
Conner blushed. "Thanks, um, Kristy. Though careful, I don't want Brent to beat me up."
"He'd have to go through me," she said, suddenly rising and heading into the classroom. She returned only a moment later with some papers from her desk, handing it to him as she sat back down. He tried not to notice that she was a little closer this time, her leg resting against his arm. It was rather distracting.
