“Oh, I heard about those,” Tamsin added, making me more curious.
Don’t ask and be a gossip, Bexley Anne Heath.
As if listening to your inner angel ever worked. “What are the theories?”
“Well, the tamer ones are like the thing that happened with his apartment,” Tamsin shrugged, sharing a look with Tabby.
When neither of them said anything else, I hissed, “And the others?”
Tamsin blushed and looked over at the wall. “Tabby can tell you those.”
Shooting her a glare that bounced off the back of her head, Tabby mumbled, “They think he’s got man issues.”
“Man issues? Like the happy little chappy blue pill type of requirements?”
“No, as in the opposite of that.”
What was the opposite of…. Ohhhh!
Dropping my half-eaten sandwich back onto the plastic wrap, I whispered as quietly as possible, “Is that something he should see a doctor about? I mean, if he can’t get it to go down, maybe he needs—”
“Sex,” Tamsin huffed, not meaning to say it as loudly as she did and turning bright red when people turned to look at us again. “Uh, that is that sex education should always be taught with an understanding of its impact on students and how they perceive sex in general.”
When people went back to their conversations, she smiled weakly at both of us.
“What the hell was that?”
Glaring at me, she snapped, “I panicked, okay? Everyone was looking at me like I was a deviant. But you need to understand what Logan needs is probably sex. Are y’all in the same bed still?”
When I nodded my head, Tabby grinned at me. “Well, guess you’re going to have to break out some moves for him to help cure him of his ailment.”
Blinking at her, I looked at Tamsin to talk some sense for her, but she just shrugged. “Sorry, I agree. You can’t tell me you guys aren’t in the same sex zone—I’ve felt the tension.”
Were we?
Before I could say anything else, the bell rang, making me jump.
“Well, I say you’ve got some food for thought, honey,” Tabby said as she stood up. “And if you need any help, just shout.”
Mutely, I picked up the remnants of my lunch and walked over to the trash can to dump it, my head spinning the whole time.
Sex.
Logan.
Sex.
Logan’s penis.
Sex.
My vagina and his penis.
Joining me, Tamsin got rid of her garbage. “Have you got what you need to help out my classes this afternoon?”
Shaking it off, I pulled the book I was bringing with me out of my purse, holding it up for her to see.
“I do. And if this isn’t a good example of what you’re talking about, I don’t know what is. All of the parents returned the acceptance forms, I guess what happened recently has shaken a lot of them up.”
I’d agreed to help her out with a class that dealt with psychology and helping students understand it. Her current project was understanding the impact of words on people and educating students on how deep the ‘reality’ of the internet went. Principal Teller had even agreed to let me speak to them while my regular class finished up a project I’d set.
“I’ve never read that,” she told me as we walked to her classroom. “The title’s kind of… brutal.”
“It’s a perfect example of how words were used years ago and comparing them against their severity now. But it’s a great book if you can get past the title.”
As soon as her students were seated, Tamsin settled them down and then pointed at me.
“I’m sure some of you already know her, but for those of you who don’t, this is Miss Heath, our new English teacher. I was speaking to her about how we’ve been discussing the impact of words on people, and she knew just the right example, so she’s going to be talking to you today. Your parents have been notified and gave their consent, so don’t panic.”
Smiling stiffly at her, thanks to the nerves that were swirling around in my stomach, I waved lamely.
“Um, hi? I recognize some of you already, but my name’s Bexley. I mean Heath. No, it’s Bexley Heath, but you can call me...” I groaned internally at how much of a loser I looked, “Miss Heath.”
Flashing what I hoped was a smile that screamed at them to take pity on me, I took a deep breath in. “I know Miss Waite’s been talking to you about how the meaning of some words change, or we start to use them differently, and the impact saying things can have on people, even if you don’t mean it badly. The example she gave me was a phrase I gather y’all are familiar with: go kill yourself.”
One of the girls threw her arms up in the air. “I hate it. People keep saying it, and I’m like, do they even realize how bad it still is to say that? No way does it mean to shut the f—” she stopped and looked between Tamsin and me. “I mean to shut— Uh, STFU.”
Nice!
“Let’s keep it PG, Kenya,” Tamsin suggested.
“I did. But people are still saying it means that, and, like, no way.”
One of the boys sneered at the girl. “Maybe you shouldn’t be such a kiss ass?”
“Ben,” Tamsin snapped. “One more of those, and I’ll send you to the principal’s office.”
I braced for an argument, but he blushed and looked down at his desk instead. “Sorry, Miss Waite. I understand what you’re saying and how good an example that is, but she’s always digging away at me and my friends.”
Not wanting to dwell on it and run the risk of making things worse, I continued with my plan.
Holding the book up, I tapped the front of it. “Who here has heard of an author called Alexander Pope?”
All of them looked back at me blankly.
“Alrighty then. Pope was an English poet who died in 1744, but he wrote a satirical piece that’ll always be one of my favorite books in the
