Page 6 of Apparently, I’m Torture

He nodded, satisfied with my answer. “And what has Shawn done?”

I took a breath. “He’s become an innovative educational leader in literature–”

When Trevor interrupted me this time, he was kind of… excited.

“He’s advised on the syllabus, petitioned for higher pay, and he’s working to put his Maslow’s Hierarchy initiative into practice across all of New York and Brooklyn.”

He paused and I eyed him, waiting for him to come down from his fanboy enthusiasm. “And that’s on top of leading workshops and raising his homebase school’s test score average to an all-time high. Our sister school in Brooklyn wasn’t exactly teeming with great results five years ago.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. Shawn is amazing.”

The defeat in my tone had a sobering effect on Trevor. He picked up his coffee cup and lifted a shoulder.

“He’s a great teacher, an industry leader. He had the choice to work here and raise all of us alongside him. But because of you, he didn’t. Instead, Mia and I got stuck with you, and all you do is teach students how to sing along to cartoons.”

I threw my glance to the ground, hoping Trevor wouldn’t see the hurt careening through me. “I’m giving you a chance to fix things before you lose your job. Don’t screw things up with Shawn a second time.”

As Trevor walked out, Mia’s soft footsteps stole any surprise I might’ve felt as she gripped my arm.

“Don’t let that asshole get you down.” Her whisper was fierce. “I know what happened with Shawn, and so do you.”

I swallowed back the lump in my throat and turned to her. Mia’s dark brown shoulder length hair was parted in the middle, framing her big brown eyes. She was dressed in a button-down shirt tucked into a high waisted skirt, and wore heels like she was born with them strapped to her ankle.

Unlike me. I was in a shapeless sack of a dress with a thick woolen cardigan thrown over it. If our outfits reflected how well we performed at our jobs then, now more than ever, I deserved to feel like a failure.

“I just wish I knew why he hated me so much.”

She clucked her tongue. “Lilly, he didn’t hate you.”

“Shawn said working with me was torture. And he must’ve meant it because it’s been five years and anytime we’re in the same room, he leaves.”

“Well. Looks like you’re going to have an entire six weeks of building this fundraiser together. Maybe he’ll talk it over with you then.”

“Maybe.” I palmed my eyelids and took a breath, trying to fortify myself. I still had three more classes to get through today. My students didn’t deserve a weepy-eyed, distracted Lilly. They deserved a fun, on-the-ball Miss Fares.

But I couldn’t deny that this whole thing was kind of crushing. I dedicated five years of my life to this school, and I loved my job but... was I really that bad at it? Were my priorities all over the place? Was I just coddling my students?

Over the years, I focused on building relationships with my students based on comfort, teaching to their strengths, honing skills in a way that centered on them. I made individual learning plans, and designed entire units around their learning difficulties, their interests, and even threw in some of mine.

I made chants to help them remember, sang songs with them, brought in snacks and celebrated their wins. I downplayed their mistakes, hoping they’d understand their academic career didn’t end with one bad score. I gave them someone to talk to when things at home weren’t great, and fought to give them a sense of control at school.

But maybe I had it all wrong. Maybe I wasn’t doing the right thing by them.

Whatever Shawn was doing was working. And whatever I was doing? Well, it was about to get me fired.

Mia clucked her tongue, tired of watching misery play out over my face. “Okay, you know what? This shit ain’t gonna fly. We’re doing this together.”

I put my hands down. “Mia, you don’t have to give up your holiday time for me.”

“Well, what else am I going to do anyway? Sit at home, alone, and drink wine while my best friend is stuck in some dingy hall doing work with a man she hasn’t gotten along with in half a decade?”

I shrugged. “You could bake cookies for your neighbor. Maybe watch him tear up his floorboards while you’re there?”

Mia sighed; her brown eyes wistful. “God, they don’t make them like that anymore, do they? Those thick shoulders get me every bloody time.” She straightened as the bell rang. “Come on. Let’s get to class. We can talk over our game plan on the way.”

She offered me her elbow and I wrapped my arm around it. “Mia, what kind of friend would I be if I dragged you into this? I’m not getting paid, you know.”

She yanked my arm and pulled me along. “Consider it payback for all the times you’ve helped me put together a research paper, or an entire bloody unit. Trevor might not see all the work you do, but I do. You’re not doing this alone.”