I lift one shoulder. “It’s not her fault. I suck at math.”
“I know how she is. She’s strict, isn’t she?”
I press my lips together, reluctant to say anything negative about his wife. But the truth is, while Mr. Bennett is one of the most popular teachers in the school, only the best math students are fans of Mrs. Bennett. She is really strict, and she doesn’t have much patience for kids who don’t get the material right away.
But the worst thing people say about her is they don’t get why Mr. Bennett married her. He’s the hottest and most beloved teacher in the school. Mrs. Bennett is pretty, I guess, although not on the same level as her husband. And she’s definitely not beloved. In fact, she’s actually kind of a…
Well, she’s a bitch. There, I said it.
“My wife is very concrete,” he says. “She’s only interested in logic and reasoning. She isn’t a dreamer, like we are. For her, words only serve a utilitarian purpose.”
“It’s fine,” I reassure him. “I just need to study.” And also pray for a miracle.
“If she’s ever too hard on you,” he says, “let me know. Seriously.”
I will seriously never let him know.
“I completely understand,” he adds. “I was also terrible in math when I was in high school. And biology.”
“Really?” He has zeroed in on my two least favorite subjects.
He grins at me and his eyes crinkle in that way I have come to love. “Oh yes. I refused to dissect a frog because I thought it was wrong. The teacher was going to fail me, so I had to do an extra credit project just to scrape by!”
I didn’t think it was possible to like Mr. Bennett any more than I already do, but there it is.
“Anyway…” He looks down at his watch and seems surprised by the time. “I apologize—I didn’t realize it was so late. Sorry to keep you. Do you need a ride home?”
I’m so shocked by his offer, I almost drop my backpack. Is he for real offering me a ride home? Doesn’t he know what happened to Mr. Tuttle? There is no way I’m taking a ride from another teacher who actually makes an effort to care about me. I’m not letting anything like that ever happen again.
“That’s okay,” I say quickly. “I have my bike.”
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.”
“Positive.”
He shrugs. “Okay. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
He seems so unconcerned, it almost makes me wonder if I overreacted somehow. After all, a ride is just a ride. Other kids do occasionally get rides from teachers, and the teachers don’t end up fired and disgraced. Maybe I made too much of the whole thing.
It seems too late to change my mind though, so I grab my backpack and head out of the room—and almost run smack into Lotus. She’s leaning against the wall, her bag propped up against her Doc Martens, a slightly manic expression on her face.
“Hey,” I say. “I told you not to wait for me.”
She rubs her nose with the back of her hand. “Bro, what was that about?”
“Oh.” I have to suppress a smile. “There’s some statewide contest he wants to enter one of my poems into. So, you know.”
“Wait.” She sucks in a breath. “The Massachusetts Poetry Contest?”
“Maybe?”
Lotus swears under her breath. “That’s bullshit, you know?”
I don’t know. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” She grits her teeth. Lotus has a lot of small, sharp-looking teeth. “That poetry contest is a big deal, and he only gets to submit one poem from the whole school.”
“Yes…”
“And, like, you’re just a beginner.” Her heavily mascaraed eyelashes flutter. “I mean, you’re good for a beginner, but there are at least three other kids at the magazine who are better than you. And I am a senior, and he has never picked one of my poems.”
I don’t know what to say. “It wasn’t like it was my decision.”
“Yes, but it was a bad decision.” Her eyes narrow at me. “You should tell him it’s a bad decision. He shouldn’t pick you just because you’re the teacher’s pet.”
I already suggested to Mr. Bennett that there might be better poems out there but he insisted. “What do you want me to do, Lotus?”
“I want you to go back in that room and tell him that he should pick somebody else’s poem to submit.”