Page 34 of Not On Your Life

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” His eyes glow with mischief. I’ve never found hazel eyes very trustworthy. Especially his. They are brown, then they’re green. They should have the decency to choose a color and stay that way.

I raise my chin and take a step closer. It’s my turn to get in his face. “I’d love to see you fired.”

“I meant the indecent exposure.”

I roll my eyes and step away. I hate him. “Go back to where you came from.”

He snatches my wrist. “Come with me, please?”

I shake his hand off. “Did you need something?”

He pulls back and straightens. “As a matter of fact, yes. I couldn’t help but notice you eavesdropping on my lesson, and I could use your assistance.”

I make a clicking sound. “Ah, do the kids need someone with actual knowledge?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, in that case. I’m all about higher education.” I straighten my ponytail.

He turns and saunters into the class, and I try to appear half as confident trailing behind him.

I shouldn’t have. There are more kids here than I could see from the hall. They are leaning against walls, sitting on top of desks and on the floor, and each one scrutinizes me with bored expressions.

Except one kid. I refuse to decipher what his extremely interested eyes are trying to tell me.

“Miss Cardozo has kindly offered to help us with this issue.” Connor stops at the front of the room and sits down. “Will you please take a seat at the defense?”

I turn, facing fifty pairs of eyes, and my breath escapes in short, ineffective bursts. The eyes and faces all swim in my vision, there might as well be a thousand.

I back up and fall into a seat.

On…Connor’s lap!

Mayday! Mayday!

The snickers wake me from this nightmare, and I jump up, taking the only other seat in the front of the room.

I refuse to look at Connor; I refuse to acknowledge his existence. Or the fact that I sat on his freaking lap.

“You’re off to a great start already,” Connor whispers. “But I’m not sure the children need that form of higher education.”

My face burns hotter than a ball of fire.

Why didn’t I leave sooner? I should have listened to my mother. Never ever let the devil drag you down to hell. There can’t be any other definition of this place.

A teen boy approaches Connor with a copy ofThe Scarlet Letterand directs him to put his hand on it.

He vows to tell the truth.

Liar.

Then the boy asks him a question. I don’t hear the question. I don’t hear Connor’s answer, either. I can’t focus on anything except the frightening eyes, the whispers flying around the room, th—

“Hey Maddie, over here,” Connor says.

My head whips in his direction, and I blink. “What?”

He doesn’t tease me about being aloof, instead, he lowers his voice so only I can hear. “You get to ask me anything you want, and if you don’t like the answer, prove I’m lying.”