The Teacher by Meg Gray

glitter and obscure
drawings was in the middle of the sidewalk, he tossed it in assuming it
belonged to Ms. Hewitt.         
    He dropped the bag on the floor in the
backseat and pulled off his wet jacket. Brayden watched him, a puzzled
expression engraved on his face. The earbuds from his video game dangled in his
hands and Marcus could hear the soft sound of his game’s repetitive music. He
gave his son a tight smile before sliding into the driver’s seat. Raindrops
snaked their way down his forehead. He wiped at them and then tried to dry his
hands on his pants, but they were as wet as the rest of him. He shivered
against the cold settling into his body and turned the heater up, muffling the
Bach concerto playing on the stereo.
    “Are you okay?” he asked Ms. Hewitt
again. He saw the nasty fall she’d taken on the sidewalk. “Are you hurt?”
    “No, I’m fine,” she said and dropped her
gaze to her lap. “A little sore, but nothing serious.” Marcus kept his eyes on
her as she lifted the umbrella from her lap and let out a tiny wooden laugh
when it went limp. She dropped it on the floorboard and shifted in her seat.
Marcus caught the wince in her face.
    “Would you like me to take you to the
hospital, just to be sure?” he asked.
    “No,” she said, shaking her head. She
still wouldn’t look at him. “I think I just want to go home. If you don’t
mind…” she paused, turning her head to look at him, but once her eyes met his
she looked away again. Lifting her chin and squaring her shoulder, just like
she’d done back at the school when he’d challenged her, she spoke again. “Never
mind, I only live a few blocks from here. I can walk.”
    “I’ll drive you,” Marcus said. “I think
we can both agree walking isn’t a good idea right now.” He waited for her
consent—a tiny drop of her chin, which he took for a nod—before he pulled away
from the curb. The rain poured from the starless sky and he flipped the
windshield wipers into high gear. “You know you shouldn’t walk alone in the
dark,” he added, sounding more like a scolding parent than a concerned citizen.
    “I know, but there was something I
needed to stay late for tonight.” There wasn’t accusation in her voice, but
Marcus knew exactly what she was implying; it was his fault she stayed
late.
    Marcus gripped the steering wheel and
wrenched his hands around the soft leather. He left the school in a ball of
rage after she ambushed him in the hallway. He didn’t appreciate being attacked
with his guard down and all the way out to the car he fumed with indignation.
If there had been a garbage can on his way out the door, the envelope would be
stuffed inside it right now.
    Progress report, I don’t think so, he’d thought as soon as he felt the thickness of the envelope. Did she really
think she was fooling him? It was probably a pile of statements she’d filled
out with her charges against him and his inadequacies as a father. If she wrote
one thing about Brayden being a bad kid, he’d have his legal team on her so fast
she’d regret every word she wrote down.
    Looking at her now, from the corner of
his eye, sitting stoically in the darkened interior of his car he softened. No
matter how much she angered him with her surprise confrontation, she’d gotten
much worse from her attacker.
    He couldn’t make out her features in the
darkness, but remembered the soft golden luster in her young eyes and the way
she’d tried to smile at him before he lashed out at her.
    He used his anger on her just like he
did everyone else. It was his emotion of choice these days. People tended to
leave him alone when they thought they made him angry. That’s what he’d tried
to do with Brayden’s teacher tonight. Judging by the way she stalked off
earlier he was pretty sure he’d succeeded.
    “Turn left on the next street,” she
directed. Before making the turn, he looked back in his rearview mirror and
caught Brayden with that same