I made sure to keep my head down as I walked, too. Being invisible came in handy for times like these—not that this sort of thing happened often for me, but it happened enough, and being unknown helped.
The classroom was nearly empty when I walked in, only a few people gathered around the first row of desks waiting for the bell to ring. I had no idea where Mr. Taylor was—I refused to lift my head and look. But I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever, considering my desk sat adjacent to his. At least the damaged side of my face wasn’t the one he could see from his seat.
“You awake today, Miss Aubrey Jacobs?”
I nodded and attempted to appear busy, pulling things out of my backpack. I’m sure I didn’t need everything I grabbed from all the pockets, but at least that kept me from peering over and finding him watching me.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine,” I said, opening my notebook to a blank sheet of paper.
“Look at me, Bree.” His tone somehow soothed me even though it came out in a deep, hard timbre, very authoritative.
I tilted my chin, angling it in his direction, and then cut my eyes to him. That was the best he’d get from me. Sure, I had my hair covering half my face to hide the dark bruising and white butterfly strips, but I didn’t dare take the chance of him seeing past it.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
His eyebrows pulled together, making the creases between them deepen. He made it nearly impossible to hold eye contact with him with the intensity of his gaze. “Move your hair.”
“No. I like it like this.”
“You can put it back, I just like to see both eyes when I’m talking to someone. Can you please move the hair from your face until our conversation is over with?” He leaned forward on his elbows, getting closer to me.
I licked my lips as my gaze bounced around the wall behind him, hoping to come up with a fast excuse. I had thought of so many I could use on the bus ride to school, but at the moment, they all sounded so used up.
I ran into a wall.
I fell down the stairs.
All so overly played out and virtually see-through. Luckily, I didn’t have a chance to say anything, because he rolled his chair back and then stood up from his desk. I glanced back down at the blank paper in front of me and let out an uneasy exhale. But before I could fully relax, a large shadow hovered over the opposite side of me, and without thinking, I lifted my head. Doing that caused the veil of hair shielding the side of my face to fall away.
In a matter of seconds, everything around me faded away. I could no longer hear the other students at the front of the class. All my ears could register was the heavy gasp that erupted from Mr. Taylor’s throat. The lights above didn’t seem as bright once his piercing gaze became fixed on mine. He crouched down next to me, leveling his eyes with mine. And my lungs seemingly collapsed in my chest when he reached his hand out to move the hair away from my face, so slowly, so cautiously.
His wide, blazing eyes met mine and never left as he spoke low, growling words. “What happened? Who did this?” There was concern in his tone, yet it had a harsh, angry edge. Rage mixed with apprehension, laced with whispered sympathy. It was too much to take, and I lowered my sight to my twisted fingers on top of my desk.
I had fought with my inner self about staying home from school for a few days until it healed enough so I could conceal it better, but that would impact my grades. I couldn’t chance that, especially after just having two weeks off for winter break. Now, I suddenly regretted that decision. I could’ve found a way to make up those grades, yet I’d never be able to make this moment go away. I’d never be able to make Mr. Taylor forget the damage on my face.
“It was an accident. I ran into a door.”
“What door?”
“My bedroom door. My mom was in the hall talking to me and I opened it up into my face. It’s no big deal.” I spoke in a low volume, almost a whisper, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself. I’m sure it wouldn’t be long before the other students wondered why our teacher knelt so close to me.
“You must’ve hit it pretty hard to cause that kind of damage.”
Although I wasn’t looking at him, I knew he hadn’t taken his eyes off me by the way they burned holes through my head. Even his deep yet quiet tone told of how serious this situation was. All I could do was laugh it off, play it off as if it were nothing more than the accident I tried to portray.
“Yeah, it was pretty hard,” I said with a small, breathy snicker as I peered into his eyes to drive my point home. “She was opening the door the same time I was, and my face collided with the edge. It’s no big deal.” I tried to keep the smile steady and strong on my face, but my heart pounded so hard, I could feel it in my throat.
“So, which was it…you ran into the door, or you opened it up into your face? And if it was opened into your face, who did it? You or your mom? Or both?” He wasn’t asking out of curiosity. It was because he knew he’d caught me in a lie. I could tell by the accusatory tone he used.
“I said…it was an accident.” I made sure to keep my quiet voice strong enough to portray how I didn’t appreciate his interrogation and that the conversation was over without garnering any unwanted attention.
He must not have gotten the hint. Unspoken conversations could be tricky, especially when you didn’t really know the person you were trying to telepathically communicate with. “I’ll ask you one more time, Aubrey. Who did this to you?”
“And I’ll tell you one more time, Mr. Taylor…it was an accident at home.”
“So if I call your mom, she’ll tell me that same story? If I call her right now, she’ll back up what you just said?”
I couldn’t let him call my mom. It would only make things worse. But I couldn’t give him any more ammunition to use against me, so I had to remain calm and go along with it. Call his bluff. And hope he didn’t follow through with his threat. “Yup. She’ll tell you the same thing. Because that’s what happened.”
His eyes shifted between mine, probably trying to find the truth in them. But I remained still and focused, hoping he couldn’t see the fear that ran through my veins, or hear my heart threatening to beat out of my chest.
Before anything else could be said or done, the music began to play in the hall, alerting the students that they had thirty seconds to get to class before the bell rang. Kids started filing in and taking their seats, and Mr. Taylor stood back up, moving to the front of the class as if we’d just had a casual conversation about the weather. My pulse pounded in my throat, choking me, and with every step he took away from me, my shoulders sagged a little more. I wanted to feel relieved that the subject had dropped, but I couldn’t help thinking that it was far from over.
I made sure to keep my head down for the rest of the class.
Panic filled me for the remainder of the day. I worried that Mr. Taylor would, in fact, call my mom. It wouldn’t matter to her that I denied it. She wouldn’t even care that it had all been her fault to begin with. Had she not busted through my door, there wouldn’t even be questions about what happened to my face. But she’d never see it like that. In her eyes, everything was my fault. It would be my fault that the TV kept her up, and therefore, all blame lies with me.
I managed to skirt by the rest of the day without anyone else commenting on my face. I did have one kid in science class ask what happened, but I just rolled my eyes and told him that he didn’t want to know. He found that funny and laughed before dropping the subject and moving on. Other than him, no one seemed to care. And really, I don’t even think he cared. I think he wanted to know more out of curiosity than anything.
The true test would come when my mom got home. I’d know within the first ten seconds of her walking through the door if anyone from the school had called her. It would be written all over her face; she wouldn’t even have to say anything. But after obsessing over it all day, I didn’t want to be anywhere near her when she came home. However, it would be impossible to avoid her since I had to be in the kitchen preparing dinner, and that’s where the garage door was.