I wish this app had emojis so I could add an eye roll, but I can only make faces out of symbols on the keyboard, so I leave it off.
MrD: Who said I was propositioning you?
Faulkner189: You legit started out with ‘I have a proposition’
MrD: I said “proposal.”
Faulkner189: Sure sure
MrD: It would be easier to talk in person. Things get mixed up online like this.
Faulkner189: Bahahaha!!!
Faulkner189: Nice try.
Faulkner189: gg. Try not to harass any more little girls.
MrD: Very funny. Talk soon.
Faulkner189: dont think so
MrD: Oh, we will.
The bell rings, and I scramble to log off and return the laptop, glancing around like I was doing something bad. I guess I was. Sort of.
No one notices, though. The other kids jerk upright from their naps, gather their books, and slog out of the room. Mr. Behr has a planning hour next, so he doesn’t have to worry about keeping me into his next class. He erases the board while the kids file out. I return the laptop to the cart and sit back in my desk to wait for Mr. Behr to do his thing.
Maybe Mom is right. I think of all the times she’s said things to me, warned me about creepers online and elsewhere.
All men like younger women. It’s in their biology. So stay in your room tonight, Harper. I’m having Jerry over.
Or was it Jim, or Gordon, or D’Aron? I lost track of them over the years.
When the last students file out, Mr. Behr comes around his desk and sits on the front of it. “Everything okay, Harper?”
“Yep.”
“How are things at home?”
“Picture perfect.” I give him my fakest smile.
Mr. Behr smooths his short-sleeved button-up shirt over his belly. He licks his lips and glances at the door, then pushes off his desk and creeps toward me. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”
“You see me every day in class.”
He fidgets, but I pin him with a glare. The high of having power over him wore off a long time ago. Now he disgusts me.
If we didn’t have laws, they’d all take girls so young they couldn’t get them pregnant, so they didn’t have to worry about birth control. Not that they care once they do. Just look at your dad…
Not that I have that option. I’ve never met the guy. Mom has plenty to say about what a good-for-nothing loser he was, but I doubt she even knows who knocked her up.
“Let’s meet today after school,” Mr. Behr says, his voice an urgent whisper. “Our usual spot. I’ll drive you home afterwards.”
“I didn’t know we had a usual spot.”
“Are you feeling neglected?” I think he’s trying to tease, but he just sounds whiny.
“What if I have plans?”