Beautiful Torment Page 2

  Mr. Pearl is the head of the language department, so I know this year is going to be tough. He already informs us that today is the last day he wants to hear any English come out of our mouths.

  So how do you say this sucks in Spanish?

  Next, I head back downstairs for social studies, which is an almost an identical scenario as English was, since I dropped honors in this subject as well.

  I scan the room briefly, looking for a familiar face. I wasn’t prepared to see one, so I’m excited when I spot Hannah. We met in gym last year and have become friends. I grab a seat next to her and find out she’s also in my public speaking class later this afternoon.

  I’m handed a textbook, just like I’ve been given in nearly every class thus far, and I’m already eagerly turning the pages. History is a beautiful thing.

  By lunch, all my friends think I misjudged dropping out of honors, because this year in social studies they get a trip to Washington DC. Little do they know I really hate school trips and wouldn’t go, even if I did stick with honors. I have no desire to stay in some seedy, cheap motel and have to follow a schedule, with people I don’t even like. I realize this may come across as a little snobbish, so I’ll move on before you think so little of me.

  I'm thrilled with lunch.

  There are so many of us that we put two round tables together. That is, until one of the security guards tells us it's a fire hazard and we can't do that.

  Next, I’m back upstairs for study hall because it’s an odd day. Every other day I’ll have lab, followed by chemistry, but today, it’s study hall before chem. This makes every other day my own personal hell. I mean, two hours of chemistry?! At least Ashley and Chloe are in the class with me. Did I also mention that chemistry is all the way across the building? I’m dreading having to do that walk from lunch every other day. Sadly, Chloe is in a different study hall, and Ashley has lab, so I head off to study hall solo.

  Chloe and I spot each other as we both come down the stairs. We continue together and I’m laughing at a joke she made as we walk into chemistry.

  Just as I step through the doorway, I stop dead in my tracks. In fact, Chloe walks right into me, shoving me forward. I nearly trip, which, upon hearing the commotion, causes our teacher to look up from his desk.

  My eyes meet his and widen out of pure shock. My face starts to tingle and the air feels tight, like it’s physically shifting around the room. I know my breath is coming quickly, like I can’t get the oxygen in fast enough. I’m going through some outer body experience, because I didn't expect J. Harrington to be so... so.... edible, hot, sexy. Ugh, ew… no, he's a teacher!

  I'll say young.

  I didn’t expect him to be so young.

  He looks completely out of place here, far too good-looking to fit in somewhere so ordinary. His eyes, a gorgeous crystal blue, widen to match mine, before narrowing, like he’s suddenly annoyed. He quickly turns back around to whatever he was in the middle of doing, but I’m still standing in place, gawking.

  The side of his face is perfectly chiseled, from his cheekbones to his chin. The corner of his lips form into a tight, hard line, but if they just loosen up slightly they look like they could be almost soft, yet still controlling and powerful. Even his ears are perfectly proportioned! There’s not an imperfection on him. His short, clearly recently cut sideburns bleed up and into a big head of also newly trimmed short, thick, dark hair, itching to be grown back out and set free, as if it’s simply longing to be messy and wild.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Chloe snaps, but I’m too stunned to answer, too preoccupied with the God before me, staring at him, gazing, imagining things I shouldn’t be imagining.

  I finally force myself to look away and at my surroundings, willing myself not to turn back, to focus on something else, anything else!

  His desk is part of a large wooden platform that elevates him above the rest of us, with a chalkboard attached to the wall directly behind him. To the far side are large windows that overlook the track and tennis courts.

  Chloe shoves my shoulder as she walks past, and I shake my head as I follow her deeper into the room, noticing lab tables with equipment in the very back. She settles at a desk in the middle of the room, where all the students who were already here from lab are seated, and I take the seat next to her. In this area, between Mr. Harrington’s desk in the front, and the lab in the back, are normal desks, just like you’d find in any other classroom.

  I look his way again.

  I can’t help it.

  There’s a strange magnetic pull making me, like I’m just some puppet being tugged on with strings, compelling me all on their own.

  He was watching me, but turns away the second my eyes meet his. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. The loud buzzing of the overhead projection in the corner of the room suddenly makes itself known. Everything starts to spin. I actually shiver, despite it being rather hot in here, all while haphazardly sitting in some sort of dazed trance that’s directed only at him.

  He looks my way again and sweat starts to form on my forehead. It’s me this time that looks down, away, focusing on the curse word etched into my desk.

  “So…” Ashley whispers to Chloe. “My sister is friends with his sister. She teachers English here.” The mention of him grabs my attention, and I’m suddenly all ears.

  So that’s his sister!

  Not that it matters.

  “She said she doesn’t really know him, but from what she’s heard, he’s sort of a dick,” Ashley pauses, probably looking to make sure he’s not watching as she talks about him. “But most hot guys are,” she laughs quietly.

  Guess I’m not the only one who noticed his otherworldly looks.

  Ashley and Chloe continue chatting, as I get out my new notebook, too afraid to look up, but too anxious not to, because I just have to see him.

  We don’t get to relax in our seats for long, and as soon as the bell rings, Mr. Harrington asks us to all get up. The moment he speaks I’m rendered speechless, almost forgetting how to do something as simple as stand. His voice is manly, deep and smooth, and my stomach is officially summersaulting.

  Really, I should detest the fact that he’s assigning seats to high school students, but I don’t. I can’t dislike anything about him, especially because of the way he says my name, so vibrant and with a slight rasp. It happens out of nowhere - the mere sound of his voice causing my nipples to harden, scratching uncomfortably against my bra.

  “Luci,” I croak, correcting him with my nickname.

  “What’s that?” I know he’s looking directly at me, I can feel it, but all I do is stare at the floor, aching to see him face on again. I’m too scared to look up though, not with all the other people watching, fearing everyone will see right through me.

  “Um, I go by Luci,” I say a little louder.

  “Luci,” he sounds amused.

  I start walking to the next seat in the row, since he seems to be going in order, but he stops me.

  “Actually Luci,” I look up, finally getting to see his flawless face once more. “Up here,” his arm is extending, pointing to where he wants me.

  Front and center.

  Some start to snicker, and Chloe mumbles in my ear, sucks.

  When my eyes leave the dreaded seat and finally find his, he’s smiling, beaming even, his chiseled jaw line stretching in a delicious way, and his pristine, pearly white, impeccable teeth almost glimmer. Nothing ever glimmers in the harsh, bland fluorescent light of the school. Yet here he is, radiating.

  I bite my lip out of habit, as I make my way to the worst seat in the house, but for some reason, unbeknownst to me, I can’t help it but smile too.

  Being in the front leaves me with no place else to stare except at Mr. Harrington.

  I’m not complaining.

  He's going on about filling out an index card he'll be passing out, but I'm too busy ogling to actually listen to the words themselves. His voice is arrogant as he talks, but his
blue eyes light up in a gentle way. Even from a distance I can see their ocean color, so clear and mesmerizing.

  I can’t help my eyes. They’re all over him. While he’s thin, he’s not skinny, and he definitely has muscles under that blazer of his. I close my eyes and imagine how firm his chest must be, and my breathing turns almost erratic. When I open them, I watch as he uses his hands as he instructs. I can’t help but flush crimson. They way they move, strong and firm, what would they be like on me, all over me?

  Everywhere.

  Ugh.

  As a teenage girl, I’ve done pretty well when it comes to not thinking about sex… until now. It suddenly seems natural, as the man before me eludes it, even in his dorky Dockers and tweed jacket; there’s something savagely magnetic about him.

  I can already tell this is going to be a major problem this year.

  I know I should hate him because of who he is - a teacher. Not to mention one that put me in the front row, but my thoughts are far from anything as innocent as hating.

  I start doing the math in my head, trying to figure out how old he is. So say he did four years of college, and then another two getting his masters… that has to make him what? 25? 26?

  A deep throat clears, snapping me out of my stupor.

  Oops.

  I’m supposed to take the cards from Mr. Harrington, grab one, and pass the rest back.

  I should have been more careful when taking them from him, but he startled me and I accidentally brush my thumb against his.

  Tender.

  I almost leap out of my seat, my pulse raging from the contact as an electric current runs from the very tip of my finger straight to my heart. I look up, wide-eyed once again, meeting his narrowed gaze. He makes a face before quickly stepping back and over to the next person.

  He had to have felt that too, and when he looks my way once more before retreating to the platform, I just know he did.

  I take my card and pass the rest to the guy behind me before placing my chin in my hand.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  With his back turned as he writes on the board, the class begins to talk in low whispers. Chloe tries to get my attention, but I ignore her, my mouth too dry to say anything even if I wanted to.

  Mr. Harrington’s arm extends, causing his jacket to lift and exposes the top part of his pants, revealing my newest fixation - his ass. I sink into my chair blushing. It gets worse when he briefly turns around and catches me red-faced. I immediately start looking around the room, which isn’t the smartest thing to do in front of a teacher, but he doesn’t say anything.

  Seriously, I have to ask again, what the hell is wrong with me?

  The next time I look up he’s already looking at me once again. He raises an eyebrow and the action renders me breathless. I absolutely detest what my body does next. It’s automatic, how I have to squeeze my legs together in order to stop the ache between them from completely igniting. Oh how that one look of his will haunt me into the late hours of the night.

  Embarrassed, I place head in my hands as I start to fill out the blank index card in front of me:

  Name: Lucinda Cunningham (Luci)

  Birthday: December 18

  Parent names: Sue and Jay

  Phone number: 555-5555

  Life’s ambition: To be happy

  Next, we're told about the daily quizzes we’re going to have. I don’t groan when the rest of the class does in response to this, or when we’re given a sheet of the periodic table and are told to memorize it by next week for the first one.

  He doesn’t look my way again, and when he gives out the periodic table sheets, he makes a point to place them on my desk, rather than hand them directly to me.

  I couldn't be more thankful when the bell rings, and I dart up before the high-pitch sound even stops, the first to leave.

  “What's wrong with you?” Chloe catches up with me as we head upstairs for our last classes of the day, she has Spanish and I have public speaking.

  “What? Nothing,” I sigh, out of breath.

  “Okay, weirdo,” she bumps my shoulder.

  “He's pretty young to be a teacher, don't you think?” I stop walking, anxious to see her reaction.

  “Who? Mr. Harrington?” I nod, but she's too busy waving to others in the hall. “I guess,” she finally answers, “But who cares about a teacher, even if he is hot! Did you see Kyle? You are so lucky to be sitting in front of him! He got way hot over the summer. And you, my friend, get to pass papers back to him! Maybe you can talk to him for me…” She goes on and on, but I’m still shaking my head from her question. No, Chloe, I didn’t see Kyle. Unfortunately for me, I was too busy noticing our teacher.

  I couldn’t tell you the first thing that happened in public speaking. Hannah tried talking to me and I nodded my head politely, having no idea what she was actually saying. Some guy sitting in front of me introduced himself, but my mind was totally elsewhere.

  When the bell rings it catches me by surprise, and I run to my car, hoping to beat the buses and traffic.

  I bang my head against the steering wheel as soon as the car roars to life, trying to get the stupid out. How the hell could I have such a reaction to a teacher? And where the hell is Gracie? When I was a freshman, I had to take the bus just like everyone else. She’s lucky I take her to and from school.

  I continue to wait impatiently, checking my rearview mirror as the traffic builds up behind me, until I finally hear the click of the door handle.

  “You need to be quicker!” I snap before hitting the gas.

  I make it home in record time, already unlocking the front door before Gracie even gets out of the car. I head straight to my room, taking two stairs at a time. I scour my bookshelf for the large hardcover binding of last year’s yearbook. It takes me two hands to grab it, and I rapidly flip through the staff pages until I get to H.

  I spot his sister first, whose first year teaching was last year, but my eyes immediately narrow in on the next picture: Joshua Harrington.

  He started teaching two years ago, and also coaches the boy’s track team. Even though it’s only a black and white picture, it’s obvious his eyes twinkle. His smile alone makes my mouth water.

  Mom suddenly barges into my room and I snap the book shut, like I’m doing something wrong.

  “How was your first day?” She crosses her arms and I can tell she’s definitely mad about something. I didn’t even know she was home!

  “I thought you were working?” Sure, it’s not the greatest response, but my heart is beating so rapidly I can’t think of anything better.

  “I left early so I could be here when you girls got home from your first day,” she sighs. “Do you know that Gracie is very upset?”

  “No,” I mumble.

  “She’s crying. She says she ran into you in the halls twice today and you ignored her both times. None of her friends are in any of her classes and she hates school.”

  “I didn’t see her,” I defend, and I honestly didn’t. “I hated my first day freshman year too. There are so many new kids. She just has to get used to it.”

  “You know she doesn’t do well with change, Luci!” Her stern look bores into me. “Maybe you should pay attention when she’s in the hall and walk with her.”

  I want to tell her that there are a million kids in the halls, and I can’t just spend my time searching for Gracie. It’s nearly impossible. But instead, I nod in agreement as Mom continues. “You two used to be so close,” her eyes start to water. “What-”

  “God, Mom, calm down, I’ll go talk to her,” I discard the yearbook and huff past her into Gracie’s room.

  SEPTEMBER 11

  By the following Monday, I'm thankful to not only have survived the first couple of days, but the first weekend too. It wasn't nearly as hard as it usually is, and oddly, I didn't dread its end. In fact, I was looking forward to it with an unnatural excitement. I'm clearly going to far surpass everyone in these non-honors classes, I alr
eady received 100 on my first Spanish quiz, and today, I'm so prepared for the chemistry periodic table quiz that it’s not even funny. Bring on your stupid daily quizzes, Mr. Harrington, because I’m ready.

  I try not to think about the strange desire I have to be good at science this year. Nor do I think about my teacher. Well, I try not to at least. I’ve downgraded my crazy first day reaction to nothing more than being surprised and shocked by his age. I mean, how many young and good-looking teachers do you find? I know I’ve never had the pleasure of staring at any eye candy during lectures in my school career thus far. It's a nice change that clearly caught me by surprise, and that’s all.

  His hotness has nothing to do with the fact that I really look forward to his class.

  Nothing at all.

  Everything in life got put in perspective the following day. Not only for me personally, but also for the entire world.

  On September 11, New York City, which is located a mere hour or so from here, faced... I don’t even know how to describe it… devastation?

  I remember everything from that day, down to what I was wearing. I don't think anyone will ever, can ever, forget.

  I was in third period Spanish when I first heard. Someone came in and told Mr. Pearl, who in turn told us. We all thought for sure the pilot must have had a heart attack. Who flies into a building in the middle of New York City? We didn't know much more and went on with the day’s lesson.

  By next period, in social studies, rumor had it a second plane had hit.

  This was no accident.

  I don't know what my face looked like, but I'll never forget the faces of those around me. Suddenly, an announcement came over the loudspeaker: All those whose parents work in Manhattan, please report to the attendance office.