I rolled my eyes as Mark guffawed loudly. He was trying to wind me up, but there was some truth to his comment, and it made my inexperience and close age to these girls even more obvious to me.
Last year I wouldn’t have blinked an eye at the thought of making out with a hot freshman. Hell, my friends and I used to prey on ‘fresh meat’ as they called them.
They would be these girls in a few short months, and guys just like me would be all over them. I stood up, tossing my half-eaten sandwich in the garbage can, suddenly not that hungry.
I sighed, thankful there were only eight weeks of the school year left.
Surely I could handle eight little weeks?
Chapter Four
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Dalton
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The one good thing about living on campus? Two minutes and I was home.
Back in L.A., I’d still lived at home with Mom and spent half the day in the car getting to and from my classes. Here, I could get up fifteen minutes before my first class and still be early.
I made my way over to my unit on foot, crossing the sprawling green lawns that separated the school from the residential units. Trees lined the border of the entire property, most of them hundreds of years old, creating a feeling of privacy. My unit was in a cluster with fifteen others within an old, dated, red brick building.
Inside was a complete contrast. Everything had been remodeled, with modern new furniture, and finishes in grays and neutral tones. The living room was huge—as was the bedroom. The kitchen, though cramped, was complete with all the latest appliances. I even had a small balcony, which overlooked the entrance of the school.
I slapped my keys down on the counter and went straight for the fridge, grabbing a soda and some leftover pizza from the night before. Walking over to the sofa, I flopped down and flicked on the TV. My first week was officially over, and I had survived. Barely.
Eight more weeks.
If I could get through that, I could secure a job anywhere. That was what this was really all about: the security of a permanent job with benefits—such as health insurance—was something I needed. Not negotiable. This job on my resume was as good as a free pass to any teaching position I wanted. It put me one step above the other twenty thousand graduates who would be applying for the same positions I would be.
The dream to be a teacher had been with me for as long as I could remember and it was something that my father had hated when he was alive. I had so much potential, why did I want to waste it on a sub par career? Why didn’t I want to follow in his footsteps and study Law? Why was I such a disappointment? Why wasn’t I trying harder? All that when I was barely in middle school. Talk about pressure. In spite of all that, I knew he loved me and wanted the best for me.
When he found out he was sick, his entire outlook on life changed.
It had been a complete one-eighty turnaround. After his diagnosis, it was all about following my dreams, not settling for anything, and doing what made me happy.
Happy? Happiness was overrated. How could I ever let myself truly be happy knowing how easily everything I worked for could be ruined? Happiness was a trait that had eluded me for a long time. The best I could do was try and float with my head above water and hope I didn’t drown, and some days even that was hard.
Some days, all I wanted to do was say ‘fuck everything’ and disappear, move some place where nobody knew me and start afresh. The only thing stopping me was Mom, and knowing I could never do that to her. Losing Dad had broken her. She couldn’t handle losing me, too.
That, and I was smart enough to realize you can’t run from your problems—they always catch up with you in the end.
***
Skype on my computer buzzed as I was getting ready to go out. It was Cam, one of my best friends from college and high school. Also a teaching graduate, he had ended up subbing for some of the roughest schools in Los Angeles. I reached over and clicked Accept, and turned on the mic.
“Hey man,” I said, dropping into my seat.
Cam’s big goofy grin filled the screen, his messy hair falling in all directions.
“How’s it going?”
“Heeeeey. How’s the private school boy going?” he yelled.
I sighed. “I can’t wait for this to be over, actually. I’d rather be subbing in the worst school in the country than here. These girls are fucking insane, man,” I said, stretching my arms behind my head.
Cam laughed. “Insanely hot, you mean. Am I right?” He laughed hysterically. Cam hadn’t changed in the eight years I’d known him. He had way too much energy and nothing to burn it on. He was one of the most genuine people I knew, and had been such a support when my dad had died. At that stage we’d only been friends for a few months, but he was there for me when all my other friends deserted me, not knowing what to say or how to act. It was amazing how in the face of tragedy, it all became about them.
I shook my head. “Don’t go there, man. God knows I won’t be. How are you, anyway? Any more interviews?”