“Yeah,” I say, looking down. “I think I am.”
“I was coming to remind you to post your grades.”
“Already did.”
“Oh.” She looks at the clipboard in her hand like she’s not reading it right. “It must not have shown up in the system. I’m sorry.”
I nod, waiting for her to move so I can walk out.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“There’s just a lot on my mind.” I look around, avoiding her stare. Every time I’ve told someone what I think in the past week it’s worked against me. And now Zoey, this person I’m convinced is deranged and dangerous, is using my greatest weakness against me.
“May I come in?” she asks. She sees something is wrong, and it’s not in her nature to ignore it. “Please.”
I stand back. She walks in the room and I shut the door.
“You know how crazy the last week of school can be,” Pam says. She sits in the chair next to my desk and nods for me to do the same. “But I wanted to thank you for encouraging Darcy to speak with me. Admitting what happened that night is a huge step for her. And you were instrumental in helping her come to terms with it.”
She’s building up my confidence, but it can’t distract me from the root of this problem. “Did she tell you who attacked her?”
“No. I think that’s why she hesitated to come forward.”
“So, nothing will be done. Even Darcy can’t prove what happened to her.”
“We may not know who attacked Darcy, but the fact she came forward is a huge step. At least now police can start a formal investigation. They can use her statement to find out who is responsible.”
“The police are involved again?”
“I believe so,” she says, rubbing her thumbs. “I can’t provide too much information.”
“The police can only do so much. We both know that,” I say. “Besides, I know who is to blame.”
Her tone changes. She takes a deep breath before continuing. “No one ever said our job is easy. It’s difficult, dealing with clashing personalities and adolescent attitudes. We all have problem students.”
“Zoey’s more than a problem student.”
“I remember this one kid I dealt with,” she says. “It’s like he got along with everyone in the school except me. It was all I could do to register him for classes. You can forget about trying to talk with him about behavior.”
“Why didn’t he like you?” I couldn’t imagine anyone holding a grudge against Pam.
“I still don’t know.” She tilts her head upward, looking through time. “My gut says he wasn’t used to black, female authority figures. Maybe we just didn’t mesh.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened.” She crosses her legs and puts her hands in her lap. “He graduated and moved on. Last I heard, he was a grad student in Louisiana. Sometimes kids rub us the wrong way, but eventually even those kids grow up.”
“I think that’s what bothers me most,” I say. “The idea Zoey will enter adulthood and still pose a threat.”
“Why are you so convinced this girl is dangerous?”
“She’s not a good person. I think she hurt Darcy and her mom. She’s been teasing me with information this whole time. Ever since she wrote that damn essay.”
“We don’t know she wrote that—”
“I know she did,” I shout. “And now she’s threatening me.”
“Threatening you?” Pam straightens her posture. “When did she threaten you?”
I’m tearing up. I shouldn’t have mentioned our altercation in the parking lot. It’s not a topic I can simply drop. The frustration I’ve been stifling since yesterday is begging to break free.
“She knows things about me,” I say. “She knows things about my past. I think that’s why she’s given me such a hard time. It’s like a game to her. And she’s threatening to tell other people.”
“How could Zoey Peterson know anything about you? She’s only been here a month.”
“I don’t know. I know she’s looked up stuff about her other teachers, but if she were to tell the people here about my…” My words fall away as I begin to cry. My anxieties have been building since yesterday. There’s no way I can keep these feelings to myself any longer.
“Della, you are a good person,” Pam says after several minutes. “Whatever you think Zoey knows about you, it can’t be that bad.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, defensively. “But people in my past have.”
The confusion leaves Pam’s face, like a mask has been ripped away. It’s like she’s solved a complicated equation. She smiles weakly. “Are you talking about your brother?”
“You know about Brian?” I feel like all my clothes have been stripped away and my skin is bare for the world to see.
She looks at me like she’s afraid I might break. “I’m not familiar with the details, but I know your brother was convicted of violent crimes.”
“How do you know about him?”
“I’ve known for a long time,” she says. “Probably since you’ve been here.”
“But how? How could you possibly know?”
“I don’t think it’s a well-kept secret. Others know, too.”
I bend over and hold my head in my hands. Is she saying everyone knows about Brian? Marge and Bowles and students, too? The strong exterior I’ve presented at Victory Hills is a sham. People know.
“You’ve never mentioned him,” I say, struggling to breathe. “You’ve never told me.”
“I didn’t see the point,” she says. “It’s not something I think about.”
“Yeah, right.” I lean back. As though anyone could look at me and not see Brian.
She moves closer and grabs my hand. I pull away, but she won’t allow it. She won’t allow me to retreat to my loneliness.
“Della, no one looks at you differently because of your brother. If anything, you’re an inspiration. Great teacher. Happily married. When you’re in the mood, you’re funny. You’re certainly one of the most compassionate people I’ve ever met.” She squeezes my hand. “Your childhood doesn’t change the person you are today. You know that, right?”
“But people will judge me. The students will look at me differently.”
“Maybe even some of them know.” This admission
