Page 4 of For Your Own Good

His inbox is filled with messages from students asking about assignments. They want extensions, clarifications, more explicit instructions. Always something. Students today can’t just do as they’re told. They always need more. Half of Teddy’s job has become explaining things a second, third, or even fourth time.

Tonight, he ignores the emails and pours himself a tall glass of milk. He doesn’t drink it often—dairy has always been an issue—but he likes it. This evening, it’s a treat. Something to help him think about what to do with Zach.

3

UPSTAIRS IN HISroom, Zach Ward works on a history paper while chatting online. A text from his father interrupts him.

Come downstairs please.

He didn’t even hear his dad drive up, much less enter the house. Zach types a message to his friend Lucas.

Gotta go. I’m being summoned downstairs.

Lucas replies with an exploding-bomb emoji.

Zach heads down, reminding himself that, no matter what happens, it’s better to keep his mouth shut. Except when necessary. Whatever his parents have done is already over. No need to argue about it now.

“In here,” Dad says, waving him into the living room. He’s still in hiswork clothes, minus the suit jacket. Mom looks exactly the same as when she left this morning, minus the shoes.

Physically, Zach is a combination of both his parents. His thick hair, jawline, and dimples come from his dad. The eyes are his mom’s, including the long lashes. The best of Mom and Dad. A genetic jackpot, and Zach knows it.

“Have a seat,” Dad says.

Zach sits on the couch, while Mom and Dad sit in the chairs on either side of him. This makes him feel a little trapped.

“I met with your English teacher this evening,” Dad says. “Your mother was stuck at work.”

“Although I caught up with him afterward,” she says, giving Dad a pointed look. “So we both talked to him.”

“Mr.Crutcher is an interesting man,” Dad says.

Zach says nothing. He’s not taking that bait.

“We had a very good talk about your paper. He showed me his rubric assessment, and I brought up some points he may have missed. He agreed with most of what I said.” Dad pauses, letting Mom pick up the story.

“My conversation with Mr.Crutcher wasn’t very long, but he did seem amenable to rethinking his position on your paper,” she says. “I think he understands that even teachers can be fallible.”

Crutcher admitted he was wrong? Not likely. But Zach has no doubt his parents believe it.

“All in all, I think we were able to come to an agreement on your paper,” Dad says. “While he’s unwilling to change your grade at this point, given that you already have the paper back, he is willing to give you an additional assignment. Extra credit, basically. That way, your grade can be raised from a B-plus to an A-minus without causing a rift with the other students.”

In other words, Crutcher said no. Not surprising to Zach, given how much his English teacher hates him. It’s so weird, because teachers always like him. He’s never had a problem until Crutcher.

He’s also never had a B—plus or otherwise.

“We think this is the best possible outcome,” Mom says. “Your GPA will remain intact, all with nothing out of place happening.”

Zach nods, trying not to smile at how she phrases it. They would’ve loved nothing more than to convince Crutcher to change the grade. They couldn’t—and won’t admit it.

Like Dad says:Failure can be an illusion.

That’s just one of his many sayings, which he calls Ward-isms. Zach’s been hearing them all his life. Most are stupid.

Both his parents are looking at him, and Zach realizes they’re waiting for him to speak.

“Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome,” Mom says. “You know we’re always willing to help.”