Chapter 9: The Teacher

"I know," I said.

Jocelyn stopped with her mouth open.

"You know?"

"Eight months ago my security chief found the program on my laptop."

I kept my voice pleasant, for the phones.

"Since then, Darrell has read exactly what I wanted him to read."

Darrell's head came around.

"Rhiannon, what are you talking about?"

"A lot of grocery lists. Three emails to the college about a leaking radiator. One long, boring note to my cousin about my quilting hobby."

"You don't have a cousin."

"No," I said. "That's what made it fun."

Somebody in the back row coughed a laugh into a sleeve.

Darrell's face worked.

He lunged at Jocelyn and closed his hand on her arm.

"You stupid girl. You said you'd keep your mouth shut."

"Don't touch me!"

"Sir." The security guard from the hall was in the room now, his radio loud. "Sir, step away from the lady."

"This is my wife's class."

"Not for long," said the girl by the window.

The guard took Darrell by the elbow.

He walked him down the corridor, still talking.

The lilies stayed on my desk.

Twenty students watched him go.

"That," said the boy in the back row, quietly, "is the best thing that's ever happened in this building."

"Pears, everyone," I said. "Back to your pears."

They did not go back to their pears.

But they held their phones down, and I knew it was a courtesy.

Jocelyn stayed.

She stood by the radiators, hugging her arms.

When the room's attention slipped away from her, she walked over and slid her phone across my desk.

"Read," she said.

I read.

It was a chat thread, months of it. Darrell's name at the top, a gold heart next to hers.

Darrell: She's so boring. I swear she hasn't noticed anything in three years.

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