Page 71 of For Your Own Good

Fallon turns to him and smiles.

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THE LOOK ONTeddy’s face is glorious. Fallon stares at it for a second before reaching out to shake his hand.

“Teddy. How nice to see you again.”

Shock delays his answer. Maybe it’s the shock of seeing her. Maybe it’s because she called him by his first name. He’s not Mr.Crutcher anymore.

“Fallon,” he finally says. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me show you where Sonia’s classroom is,” Ms.Marsha says, leading Fallon away. “You can get settled and review her lesson plans. Teddy, we’ll speak later.”

As they walk down the hall, Fallon has a strong urge to look back at her old English teacher to see if he has recovered. She doesn’t, though, because it would make her look weak.

Ms.Marsha, still as old as dirt, leads her to Mrs.B’s classroom.

No.Herclassroom.

It’s been a few years since Fallon graduated from Belmont. With the exception of the security guards in the hallways and the chain-link fence outside, the school looks exactly the same. But it feels different.

Everyone looks a little dazed, like they were playing video games for too long and have just reentered the real world. Even the students seem different. Not quite scared, but not nearly as confident.

“I had Sonia’s lesson plans printed out for you,” Ms.Marsha says, pointing to a file on top of the desk. “I’ll have her student list and their current grades emailed to you.”

“Thank you,” Fallon says.

“A substitute will finish out her classes today if you want to sit in. I expect you’ll start tomorrow?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Perfect.” Ms.Marsha pats her on the shoulder. “Good to see you again, dear. Now, I’ve got to run.”

Fallon wonders if she calls any other teachers “dear.” Not likely. Although that’s not a battle she’s willing to fight. Just like when she’d volunteered to come help out, the headmaster had offered her a salary far below what a starting teacher should make. She didn’t argue then, either.

She’s going to need all the friends she can get at this school. The Teacher of the Year is a big enemy to have.

The last time she and Teddy spoke face-to-face was the day she graduated from Belmont. By then, she had been turned down at every college she had applied to. No Ivy would touch her. Neither would Bennington, Amherst, or Georgetown. No one would even talk to her, let alone explain why. It felt as if there were an incriminating video of her on the internet that everyone had seen except her.

Graduation day was the worst. Her friends were all going to their favorite schools, or close to it, while her parents were angry. They showed up at the ceremony out of spite, convinced their daughter had a secret life that was preventing her from getting into a better school.

There she was, lost in a sea of blue gowns and gold sashes, feeling likethe pariah she had become. Her parents posed for one picture with her before leaving altogether.

As she watched them go, she heard Crutcher’s voice.

“Fallon,” he said. “Congratulations.”

He stood before her, wearing his stupid tweed jacket with the elbow patches. At the time, she had no idea it was all his fault. He was just the arrogant English teacher she never had to see again.

“Thanks, Mr.Crutcher,” she said.

“I heard you didn’t get admitted to your top choice.”

She shook her head, not telling him she didn’t get into any of her choices.

“It will all work out,” he said. “This is the kind of thing that makes you a better person.”