Prompt #13

The Prompt: The chairs are all thrown around, the books and papers are scattered, and the coffee is spilled. Write about what happened before or what happened after.

He stood, panting heavily and staring at the mess he had made. Sweat streamed down his face as realized what he had done. This was his school, his work. It wasn’t his home where anything he did remained personal. Anything he did here would have consequences. If he got fired he would never find another teaching job.

Pete sank to his knees amidst the papers strewn across the floor, his face buried in his hands. Something wet and cold began to sink into the right leg of his pants and it took him a moment to realize it was from his coffee, his coffee that he hadn’t had time to drink this morning because- He shook his head as a bitter taste filled his mouth. He kicked the coffee cup away, aware that it was a childish gesture. No one was around to see, what did it matter if he acted like a child?

“Mr. Elliot?” A voice called softly. Pete glanced up and recognized one of his students, a freshman he’d taught for little over a month. “What-?”

He didn’t know why she had stayed this late after school, but a wave of embarrassment washed over him for his tantrum. The rage vanished as quickly as it had come on. “There was a bit of an accident, but I’ve got it under control now.”

She nodded somewhat hesitantly, but when Pete stood up and made a show of wiping up the spilled coffee, she left. He placed one of the chairs upright and sat in it, surveying the mess his tantrum had caused. It had been horribly immature. He hadn’t thrown a tantrum since he’d been a young child and even then they had been infrequent. Pete didn’t know how his maturity had regressed so far as to throwing tantrums. He shakily picked up the book his freshman classes were reading and closed it, placing it on the desk exactly as it had been ten minutes before.

He did this with the rest of the room, hiding any evidence of his brief but uncontrollable rage. The freshman papers were stained brown from the coffee, but Pete carefully shuffled them together and placed them on the desk in a single neat stack. When he was done, the papers were the only remaining proof that anything out of the ordinary had happened and they were easy enough to explain away.

Prompt #12

The Prompt: There’s a reason why I can’t look you in the eye anymore.

I feel betrayed. We were never close, but I trusted you. I trusted you more than I did the rest of them. I thought you were safe. I try to avoid you as much as I can. It’s hard when I have to sit in the same classroom with you for an hour a day.

I keep my head down, sprint out the moment the bell rings. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I can’t stand to be in your presence anymore. Just that single hour in class makes me feel physically ill. You don’t have to say a word and already I want to run far away. I would skip, but I haven’t got anywhere to go and I’m too afraid that would draw me to your attention.

Instead I sit there, your desk not more than fifteen feet away from mine. Everyone else is working busily on their assignments hoping to fall into your good favor. I can’t focus. They don’t know anything. It’s supposed to be a secret. I’m not supposed to know either.

But she told Dana and Dana told me. I don’t know why Dana told me. I never asked to know. It would have been better to live happily in ignorance. But in a way I’m glad I know. What if I had gone on idolizing you? I feel dirty just remembering the way I used to think about you.

And even worse when I think about what you did with her. It wasn’t a onetime thing. It went on and on for weeks, maybe even longer. There were feelings involved. That almost makes everything worse. Feelings.

I glance up at the clock. This assignment carries over as homework so not focusing isn’t going to get me any unwanted attention. Ten minutes left. Ten minutes until I can escape.

Ten minutes is forever in the same room as you.

It’s hard to believe there was ever a time I looked up to you, idolized you even. I can’t imagine going back to that now. It’s hard enough knowing I have to continue to see you every single day when I come into school and pretend that nothing has changed.

I was never an actress. I’m not a part of the theater department. I can hardly tell a lie without being called out immediately. I don’t handle secrets well at all. And this is a huge one. I can’t think of anything else and it makes me wonder about all kinds of things.

Why you did it, for one. Why would you take such a risky chance when it could ruin your whole life? We have the excuse of being teenagers for our stupidity, but you’re an adult. You’re supposed to be mature and rational. You’re supposed to stop things before they go too far.

It all comes down to you. Maybe she made mistakes too, but you’re the adult. That’s why I can’t stand to be around you anymore.

People begin to pack up and I check the clock again. Three minutes. Oh god, please let it be over. Please let me be out of here. It’s a Friday so I know I won’t have to suffer the hour of class again until Monday.

“Lyssa?”

I freeze as you say my name. You can’t want to talk to me. It’s Friday. I’ve just got to get away from you.

But you’re a teacher and I can’t just openly disrespect you. I shuffle over to your desk where you’re grading our essays from last week. You smile up at me, but I look away. Keep my gaze on the ground. Talking to you makes my stomach roll over uneasily so I keep my mouth shut.

“I know I’m not handing the essays back until Wednesday, but I wanted to get yours to you early. Congratulations.” You offer me a paper from the side of your desk and I stare at it a moment before realizing you mean for me to take it. Accepting anything from you seems wrong now, even if it’s only a paper.

I grab it quickly and yank it from your grasp so we won’t both be touching it at the same time. I don’t want any kind of connection with you. The cursive A at the top of the page would have pleased me just a few weeks ago, but now all I can think is that you wrote that A and what else you’ve done with those hands. What else you could be thinking as you graded it.

“Thanks,” I mumble, already heading towards the door. I don’t want to talk to you any longer than absolutely necessary.

You frown at me slightly. “Is everything okay? Anything upsetting you at home?”

The question puts me on my guard. Home. Home’s fine. You’re the one upsetting me. But I can’t say that to you. You aren’t supposed to know that I know.

At that moment the bell rings and I snatch your backpack from the floor. “Gotta go, can’t be late for class,” I say. I just can’t wait to be out of your presence.

“Anything you need, Lyssa, don’t hesitate to come to me, alright?” You stare at me sincerely and I nod jerkily before sprinting out of the room. It’s only then I allow myself to cringe in disgust.

Had you said that same line to her before things started happening between the two of you? Did you offer your shoulder for her to cry on? Or was that offer to me merely innocent, a teacher trying to help his student the way he should?

I can’t take anything you say at face value anymore. I question everything you say, everything you’ve ever said. It disgusts me, sickens me to the point where I have to run away. I know things I shouldn’t, things I never wanted to know.

I don’t know why you did it, though. I’m not sure I want to. I can’t begin to fathom what made you think it was okay. You’re not who I thought you were. Not by a long shot.