Not Long Enough

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Over the next two weeks, Suki, Linda and I all meet up at the bookstore on Wednesdays, and Seaton continues to drive me to school, almost never saying a word. He's so confusing. The last thing he said to me was "What time do you get up," so he could make sure he was out to drive me to school at that time.

Every day I tell him that he doesn't need to drive me to school and back.

Every day he ignores me.

Report cards are coming out, but I'm not worried. Why should I be? Kids are only ever worried about their grades for two reasons. One would be because they won't get into a good college and two, because of their parents. I'm not going to college. I've always known this, but I politely nod as the teachers lecture about how important it is so that they don't call me after to have the 'talk' with me. Mr. Spencer would definitely do that.

And the latter... well, Alfred doesn't particularly care about grades. He never cares about whether or not a get all A's or fail every subject. Sure, when I was a kid used to run up to him smiling when I got a good mark on a test, but then he'd slap me and tell me to clean up the living room and not to waste him time with crap like that, so really it's no big deal.

Mr. Spencer has been shooting me concerned glances ever since my ankle was broken. I told him the same story I told Seaton. Sticking to one story this time even though they probably won't ever meet. Taking no chances. If this ever got out...Well, it could lead to other things getting out as well and I don't think I'd be able to handle that.

At school, people act no differently towards me meaning, quite frankly, that they don't 'act' toward me at all. Mr. Spencer is starting toward me now, his mouth set into a frown.

"Jayden, I didn't get your lab assignment," He tells me, sitting down next to me in the library and looking at me expectantly. Why does everyone try to get me to talk so much?

"Yeah -um -homework was to fill out the sheet and um -I was busy. I'm sorry, sir," I reply timidly. Last night was Wednesday and my dad and his poker buddies ate Chinese. Rice is murder to clean from the carpet.

"I see," He sits back and looks at me, "This gives you a C in my class. Did you know that, Jayden?"

"No, sir," I answer. Finally! A yes or no question!

"Hm," He nods, "Well, you do. I can't make too many exceptions for you, Jayden, even if you are smart. I don't want to play favorites, even if you are mine."

"What?" I blurt out and then curse myself. Damn. That was a terrible slip-up. Speaking without thinking it a horrible thing. I can't let that happen but -it fucking surprised me! I'm his favorite? But why? I don't do his homework, I've got a mediocre grade in his class, I'm not in Quiz Bowl and I barely ever speak to him. How could he even like me?

"Look, Jayden, you're a genuinely good kid," Mr. Spencer sighs, "But you've obviously have a few problems that you need to talk through, and I'd like you to know that I'm here whenever you need to talk."

He scribbles down a series of numbers on a piece of paper in his notebook and ripped it out before handing it to me. I take it hesitantly and look at it. A phone number.

"It's my cell number," He clarifies. "It's always on so I want me to call me whenever. That means anytime, Jayden. If you need help or if you just want to talk."

"...Yes, sir," I nod, but I won't. I wouldn't ever do that. I don't have a reason to.

"Well," Mr. Spencer stands and then gives a short wave, "I'll see you in class then, Jayden."

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