Page 4 of Apparently, I’m Torture

“I am serious–”

“Prove it. Complete the module, work the fundraiser, and you’ll be able to keep your position.”

“But–”

“And no more of those damn movies. They’re a waste of valuable classroom time.”

My eyes blurred, and I sat there in shock. His head lifted and he pointed a finger in my face.

“Lilly, this is a warning. If your students fail the next round of exams, if this fundraiser doesn’t work out, you lose your job. Is that clear?”

My fingers numbed; bile burned the back of my throat. But I sucked in a breath, ran my coping song through my mind, and nodded.

Trevor dismissed me, his lanky frame rising from our wooden meeting spot. I watched his back as he left, assuming he was on his way to suck up to our principal.

I could lose my job. I could lose my classroom, my worn-in textbooks, my comfortable desk chair with the firm foam padding. I could lose my students. I could lose what little I had left of my mom.

I sucked in more air as my chest constricted. Pressing a hand to my stomach, I found my desk drawer and yanked it open, pulled out my wireless earphones, and played the first song on my list.

As the music filled my ears and loosened my lungs, I went over what Trevor said. Again, and again. I gripped the edge of my desk as fire shot through me.

My school was not going to be taken from me. Not my students, not my classroom, none of it. I will get this fundraiser done. My students will pass their exams. Trevor will not run me out of here.

Chapter 2

Lilly

Monday night

Lilly’s Apartment

“So, there’s nothing I can do about it?” I groaned into my phone.

“It doesn’t sound like workplace harassment or discrimination,” Nikki said, her voice straining at the edges. She was probably picking up toys in her living room. Her two little girls played hard. “I know it’s not ideal that you’re giving up half of your summer break for this, but it could be a great opportunity.”

Grunting, I trapped my phone between my ear and shoulder as my loungewear shorts made it up and over my ass. After the staff meeting, I went home, still seething, and called my lawyer-friend, Nikki, to talk it over.

I thought maybe she could help me come up with some kind of solution, some failsafe that would make sure I could keep my job if the fundraiser fell to pieces. But this conversation wasn’t going the way I’d hoped.

“I know, I know. But I don’t really want any new opportunities. I don’t want to teach anywhere else. I love my students and I love my classroom. I don’t want anything to change.” I let out a breath and plopped on my couch, wincing.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

I must’ve made a noise. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just sat down.”

“Why did that hurt?”

“Because my ass is eating my shorts and I have a wedgie.” As Nikki laughed, I leaned to the side and tugged the hem, hoping to save the trapped fabric. I was pear-shaped–slimmer on the top half, larger on the bottom–and no amount of exercise changed that genetic fact. “My ass is getting bigger and bigger these days.”

“I know how that feels,” she paused to say something to Tristan, her husband, my ex-boss and close friend. When I heard her voice again, it was laced with resignation. “Lil, I know you love your job, and I know what this school means to you, but you haven’t taught anywhere else. Making connections with other teachers couldn’t hurt, and if you do a great job, you can shove it in Trevor’s face for the rest of the year.”

“But what if I screw this up? Or… what if I do well and he makes me do it every year?”

I’ve worked with Trevor long enough to know this was a lose-lose situation. I was doomed if I did well, doomed if I didn’t.

“Well, next year you’ll have leverage.” She let out a breath and shifted her tone. Oh no. I was about to get No-Bullshit-Nikki. I could feel it. “And besides, you don’t have much of a choice. Whether you like it or not, Trevor is your boss, and this is part of your job.”

A horrible noise rumbled through my chest. “Niiiiikkiiiiiiiiiii.”