Page 5 of Grace

“Of course, if you’re attracted to older, more experienced men…” He surveyed my body curiously. He stepped closer confidently, and I took a step back. He flashed a predatory smile that made my throat tighten painfully. In my head, Chase was no longer whispering but shouting.

“No, Mr. Miller!” I replied a bit more loudly, trying to mask my overwhelming fear.

Mr. Miller stepped back smiling, and leaned his hip onto the desk leisurely. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and put on his “high and mighty” face again.

“Did he harass you?” he asked me. “Should I call your parents?”

“My parents?” I asked, wide-eyed. He nodded.

“No… It was only a kiss,” I tried to come up with excuses. “It would be ridiculous to call them over something like this,” I continued, angrier than I had ever been in my life.

“You know I have to inform parents about any inappropriate behavior, right?”

“Do you really call every parent whose kid you see kissing?” I asked angrily.

“Watch your manners. If you don’t, I’ll have to come up with some sort of punishment for your behavior.”

I was almost bursting with anger, but I swallowed the words on the tip of my tongue. I definitely did not want to spend the last days of school in detention—with him looking on.

“I’m sorry for being disrespectful, Mr. Miller. Can I go?” I asked, nodding toward the closed door.

“Go,” he relented.

“Miss McCarty,” he called after me when my hand was already on the doorknob.

It was the first time I had heard him address any student by anything other than a first name. I froze.

“Take care,” he said.

I nodded and burst through the door.

I didn’t care that we weren’t allowed to run in the building—I sprinted down the corridor.

Once outside the building, I took a deep, relieved breath. My lungs and legs were burning, and my heart was racing. I was badly shaken. Tears flooded my eyes as I realized that Chase might have been right about Mr. Miller. Nausea crept up from my stomach, and my mouth instantly filled with bitterness.

My hands were shaking. I could barely fit the tiny key into my bicycle’s lock—it slipped out of my hands twice, which made me even more nervous. I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. I wanted to get home, take a shower, brush my teeth—to wash the ugly gazes off my skin and to get rid of the taste of Chase Baker in my mouth.

The next morning, I tried to convince my parents that I was sick, but they didn’t buy the story—they never did and were strict about skipping school.

“It’s only a few days left, honey”, Mom kissed my hair. Still, my stomach twisted into a knot. I wanted to tell her what I’d heard about Mr. Miller—and how he’d acted, but I was worried she wouldn’t believe me, just like she didn’t buy my supposed illness. Even though I didn’t have to feign the nausea.

“Mom…” I said eventually.

“What is it?” she asked, taking a quick sip of her coffee.

“I… heard a rumor about my math teacher, and I don’t know what to think.” I gently bit my lip.

“Mr. Miller?” She raised her eyebrows in disapproval.

“Yes,” I blinked in surprise.

“Well, that rumor has been going around for years. That he…” she cleared her throat. “But there is no proof.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Did he touch you?” Mom slammed the mug on the table, her latte splashing onto the white tabletop. She stood up and grabbed my shoulders.

“If he did, tell me, Grace!”