Chapter06

At least, when I wasn't letting my thoughts dwell on somewhat more ignoble thoughts. Fantasies, merely. Nothing I was actually going to do. No, I'd have her write her essay for me.

And maybe apologize. But that was it.

Absolutely it.

School let out at 2:55. By 3:30, I was pretty sure Taylor had decided to blow off my leniency. I was such an idiot. A fool who'd burned every cent he'd saved to help a student who refused to let herself be helped. After finishing up as much as I could stomach of all the work I'd delayed that weekend with this imbecile scheme, I typed up an email to Louisa letting her know Taylor had blown me off after all, to disregard my earlier message and go ahead and let the hammer drop. Taylor had been given every opportunity to make amends and instead--

"So, we doing this or what?" came a voice from the doorway.

I looked up, and there she was. She wasn't wearing her outfit from earlier in the day; now it was a thin white tank top and a pair of athletic shorts cut high on either side. They might almost have met the school's past-the-fingertip rule if not for an entirely too perky ass lifting them higher.

"It's almost four o'clock, Taylor. You were supposed to come here after school."

"It is after school," she retorted, ignoring the fact that I was already holding my briefcase. She sat right down in her usual seat, the one as far from my desk as possible so that her inevitable tendency to chit-chat was less audible. It was easier than actually hounding her over it. "I had to get a workout in. This body don't maintain itself, yo. Wouldn't kill you to hit the gym yourself, Mr. Canon."

I disregarded the slight, whether or not she had a point. "I meant immediately after school and you knew it. It's too late now. I did my best to lead you to water, but it seems you wouldn't let yourself be compelled to drink."

"Uh, what? You want me to drink something?" she cocked her head to the side. Probably feigned confusion.

"Forget it. I'm sending Officer Barbour an email to inform her you've chosen expulsion."

She frowned. "Oh. That sucks." Her disappointment sounded on par with learning that her burger had arrived without ketchup.

"You say that now, but when you're thirty-five and have only just managed to claw your way up from crew to night shift manager at Wendy's, trying to provide for your children on starvation wages because you wouldn't apply that intellect of yours toward the end of achieving the slightest modicum of self-discipline, then you'll really know how much it sucks."

Taylor drummed her fingers on her desktop, crossing her long legs in my direction. "What, so you're shaming fast food work now?"

"No. The shame isn't in the nature of the work, it's that you have all this potential, but instead of using it, you're going to settle for a harder, less rewarding life. All so you can feel like your i-d-g-a-f branding is on fleek. Or however they're saying it these days."

"Not bad, Canon. Not bad. So I'm expelled, then?"

I sighed. "You're not even going to try to talk me out of it? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Cool apathy to the bitter end."

"I mean, if you say so. Expulsion sounds hella shitty, but it is what it is, I guess." She shrugged, and then reached into her backpack to produce the chapstick. She smeared it back and forth across her lips once again. "Man. My stepdad is going to kill me. Fuck. Ah well."

I froze. Chapstick. The Serenex.

I'd been thinking about little else all through my prep, wondering if it was affecting her, if anyone would notice, if someone would figure me out, expose my plan, if I'd spend the next ten years in prison and the next forty explaining why on job applications at Wendy's. But when she hadn't shown up, I'd gone right back to festering over Taylor Stern and her insufferable apathy and entitlement, such that when she strolled in an hour late after stopping for a workout, I'd forgotten all about it, and all about those tempting thoughts at the periphery of my imagination. But there she was, unwittingly reapplying a fresh dose and calmly -- dare I say serenely -- abiding by my judgment.

I looked to my laptop, still open, the email asking Officer Barbour to suspend the girl still open, cursor blinking, mouse hovering right over the Send button. I ought to. She'd been given more chances than she deserved, and blown them all. I couldn't really mean to sustain this operation. Could I? It was only going to get harder from here. I wouldn't have chapstick to return every day.

Maybe I owed it to myself to at least give it one day. Just one very, very, very last chance for her. Then absolutely no more excuses.

"Hold it," I said as she neared the door. She stopped immediately. Why was that so satisfying?

"What now? Am I expelled and I have to hear a lecture about it first?"