When she holds a pen out to me stiffly, I again have to force myself not to react. I wrap my fingers around the pen, wanting to jam it in her nose, but instead, I sign my name and calmly place the pen down on her desk without speaking.
"Now that we've taken care of that, I think you'll understand that I'm going to have to ask that you use one of your personal days and go home. We wouldn't want the children to be affected by your attitude."
I want to scream at her, what attitude? I've kept my mouth shut and not stuck up for myself. I've let her railroad me with her highhandedness. I don't deserve this, but I didn't fight her. Instead of arguing, I wipe my palms on my pants and stand.
Mrs. Worthington doesn't move; her scrutiny follows my every movement, though. I can feel the tears burning behind my eyes. My nose stinging with the effort to keep them at bay. I won't give her the satisfaction of seeing that she's broken a little of my spirit. I don't look at her secretary on my way out. I avoid the main exit for faculty, and instead go out the front doors to avoid running into any of my co-workers. When I get my shaking hands to finally unlock my car, I toss my bag into the passenger seat and make quick work of getting my seat belt on and the car in drive before slowly accelerating out of the parking lot.
By the time I pull in to my complex and park in my normal spot in front of my apartment, I'm a blubbering mess. I managed to keep it together for all of five minutes after leaving the school before falling apart. If you looked up the definition of ugly crying, I would be the picture beside it. My hands grip the wheel, my eyes focusing on nothing in particular as the tears continue to fall. My chest is heaving as I gasp and sputter out my cries. Somehow, I manage to get myself calmed down enough to send a text to Ember even though she isn't the first name to pop in my mind. I can't think about my desire to have Shane here. Not right now. I'm confused enough after everything that happened this morning. No matter how much I want him here, I'm too vulnerable. After I hit send, my head drops to the wheel and I continue to lose myself in my desolation.
"Nik."
I shake my head, my forehead sore, and don't look up when Ember's voice filters through my sobs. I didn't hear my phone chime, unsure of how long it's been since I sent her a text. Knowing my best friend, she probably got here as quickly as she could, though, and it's just the tension in my body that's made me sore and not the time I've spent crying. My back hurts from being hunched over. My shoulders scream in pain from the tension holding my body tight as I cry.
"Nikki, you're scaring me," Ember whispers in a frantic tone.
I just continue to cry, not knowing what else to do and helpless to stop. So many thoughts going through my mind. Where will I live if I lose my job and can't find another right away? My savings would keep me here for a few months, but after that, then what? What will happen when I go to work tomorrow? Am I even allowed to go back in tomorrow? Mrs. Worthington didn't say I wasn't, but it was clear she doesn't want me there--heck, it was clear before this that she didn't want me there. Can I continue to work somewhere I'm not welcome, no matter how much I love my students? Is this my fault? Did I bring this on because of my harebrained fake relationship plan?
I hear Ember talking, but none of her words are registering while I continue to freak myself out more with the questions that just won't stop. I know I need to pull myself together, but for the life of me, I just can't. My chest is burning, my sobs hiccupping through my whole body with giant body wracking bursts.
When I feel an arm reaching between my hunched over body, I open my eyes and blink through the tears to find a forearm that definitely doesn't belong to my best friend. Do I move, though? No, I continue my pity party for one while blinking through the tears at the hairy, very manly forearm. The arm retreats after my seat belt unhooks, and then I watch as the arm moves under my legs before my body is being shifted. When another arm joins the fun and pulls me out of the car like a baby, I still don't move.
"Get her stuff, baby," Nate's voice calls to his wife, rumbling against my ear as I keep myself tucked close, knowing my two friends will take over and get me into my home. It feels wrong to be in Nate's arms, but I don't have the strength to think about why.
For the first time since leaving the school, something other than my own misery floats through my thoughts as he starts walking, his strong arms around my body, carrying me with no effort. It's not Nate who I want holding me. I feel safe, yes, but his touch is almost unwanted. How messed up is that? I've known Nate for over half of my life, yet his strong arms offer no comfort when I'm craving another's touch. It's my 'boyfriend'--the same 'boyfriend' who's made no secret from the beginning that I shouldn't get attached--who I want.
Right or wrong, I want him.
I almost texted him before Ember. The only thing that kept me from sending a text to him and not her, though, was the reminder he didn't want anything real, and my problems are just that ... real. Like it or not, wanting him or not, a fake boyfriend shouldn't be the one to dry my tears.
I peek through my eyes and see Ember rushing ahead of us. Nate keeps his silence, holding me tightly as he follows his wife up the stairs like he isn't carrying a full-grown woman. He waits while she uses her key to my apartment to open the door, swinging it open and holding it so that Nate can pass through while tossing the keys into her purse. He walks to the couch and sits down. I wait for him to relax his hold and let me up, but he doesn't. Nate's known for being a little ... strange in the things he does for the women in his life, but holding his wife's best friend like a baby needing comfort is a new one.
"Nik," Ember fusses, leaning down over us and placing her face as close as she can. Her concern written clearly all over her face. "Please talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."
"I don't know what to do," I gasp, words finally bursting free as more tears fall.
"Is it Seth? Did Seth do something?"
I shake my head, hitting my forehead against Nate's chin as I do so. I shift my gaze and look at him. "You can let me go." I sniffle, trying to climb free.
"You're fine, sweetheart," he replies gruffly, tightening his arms and forcing me to stay.
"Start from the beginning, Nik. I don't know how to help you if you don't tell me what happened. I'm going out of my mind with the worst possible scenarios," Ember continues, grabbing my hands and holding them tightly.
I sniff, feeling my throat burning, and then my mouth opens and the words start tumbling out. Everything that happened the other weekend at dinner with Shane between us and Lacey. The conversation between my boss and me this morning at the school rushing forth after that. I don't know if she can understand a word out of my mouth, though; my hysterical voice thick with emotion and shaky with help
less desperation. I'm powerless to do anything else but blubber my way through it.
"That bitch!" Ember screams when I stop talking.
"Which one?" Nate asks, still not releasing me.
"I can get up," I tell him, again, my voice hoarse and weak.
"Humor me," he answers oddly. One thing I know is that I just can't deal with trying to figure him out right now.
I look over at Ember and find the expression on her face just as odd as Nate's request. Not having the energy to analyze what the two Reids are up to, I just relax in his hold and listen to Ember while she starts to rant and fume over the two women who have turned the euphoric high I felt as I began the day this morning into a big pile of poo.
"Can she even do that?" Ember screeches, coming to an end of her raging chatter.
"Who?" I ask, not really keeping up with her.
"That bitch you work for! She can't just put you on some ludicrous probation with a babysitter. You're better than that, Nicole Clark. I told you the same thing when you took that hoity-toity job full of insane rules, and I'll remind you now; that whole place is full of snobs who do nothing but look down their noses at anyone they feel isn't their screwed-up version of perfect. The only thing that's good about that place is the kids--well, the ones too young to be tainted by their parents' entitlement. I've seen some of those older kids, and let me tell you, they're just as bad as the adults around there."
I deflate more. "She can, Ember. She's right; I signed my contract knowing there was a morality clause attached to it. What happened falls under that moral turpitude clause. My actions were in public, and even though I didn't start it--or instigate how it escalated--I still played my part by standing up for myself instead of walking away. That, to her and the board, is no better than taunting her. It doesn't matter who is right or wrong. To my boss and the school board, I'm an extension of Rosefield even when outside the school hours, and that's all there is to it."
"So quit," she finally says as if that's the most easy and logical of answers.
A bark of laughter erupts from me. "And do what? Sell my body on the street corner to pay the bills and keep a roof over my head?"