She says nothing for a long while and then shakes her head. “How about this? I’ll give you an extra credit assignment to help bring it up?”
“Yeah, because it’s so easy to bring up an F. What the hell, Mrs. Ice? I thought you were cool.” Before she can say anything, I ask, “Who were you on the phone with? Mr. Malone? Did you tell him what happened?”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with—”
“Maybe I do. Maybe he has it out for me, too, because I dared to speak up against some of the harassment I’ve had to deal with even in your class. Brett’s been tormenting me. Have you even realized that? Do you even care? No, of course not. You don’t give a flying fuck. Not paid enough to? Is that it? Or do you just leave that for the counselor? You know, I really thought at first that you were one of those teachers who tries to befriend her students, but now I realize that’s all just a game. You’re a bag of sweaty, old gym socks. You don’t give a damn about any of us, and that’s fine. Whatever. You do you. I just don’t understand how you can sleep at night, but maybe you sleep just fine, not caring that some of your students are destroying the lives and futures of your other students.”
I stalk out of her office and leave the building entirely.
I fucking hate school.
That hadn't always been the case. I used to love school. Katie and I had been so super tight, and we could face anything together head-on and end up on top. Nothing could stop us.
Fuck, I miss her.
I walk as quickly as I can to the auto shop, hoping Tyler isn't there, trying to sweet-talk Max into hiring him. Tyler's not there, and the place seems dead.
“Max?” I call, going to the back.
“Doll,” he says, walking around a stack of boxes. “As you can tell, it’s a ghost town today.”
“I noticed. Why?”
“It normally is our slowest day of the week, Monday. Why don’t you just take today off?”
“But—”
“Go on. You’ve been working every night, more than I originally wanted anyhow. “Go study. Get your grades up. How did the retake go?”
I grimace.
“That badly?” he asks.
“She changed her mind. The teacher. She didn’t let me redo the test.”
“Why not?”
“Fuck if I know.” I throw up my hands. “I want to learn. I want to get all As. I want to get into a good college—”
“Just a good college?”
I hang my head. I applied to all of the great ones under my real name.
“You will get by,” Max says.
“Fuck getting by,” I snap. “I want to succeed. I want to have everything life has to offer.”
“Then you don’t want to be at an auto shop for the rest of your life.”
"Hmm. What else could I be?"
“I don’t know your strengths and fucking weaknesses,” Max grumbles. “You gotta figure that shit out yourself. Once you know who you are, you can try to change that.”
“I like that,” I say.
“Good.” He beams proudly. “I made that up myself.”
“I should take up needlepoint. ‘You gotta figure that shit out yourself.’ Can. You imagine giving those out to little old ladies?”