This Girl: A Novel

any worse?
    When I round the corner to Hall D, the day somehow gets one hundred percent better as soon as I lay eyes on her.
    “Lake?”
    She’s got her hands in her hair, pulling it up into a knot again. She spins around and her eyes widen when she sees me. She pulls a sheet of paper from between her lips and smiles, then immediately wraps her arms around my neck.
    “Will! What are you doing here?”
    I return her hug, but the sheet of paper that just flashed in front of my face has left my entire body feeling like an immobile solid block of concrete.
    She’s holding a schedule.
    I suddenly can’t breathe.
    She’s holding a class schedule.
    This can’t be good.
    Mrs. Alex said something about enrolling a new student.
    Oh, shit.
    Holy shit.
    I immediately begin to internally panic. I wrap my fingers around her wrists and pull her arms away from my neck before someone sees us. Please let me be wrong. Please.
    “Lake,” I say, shaking my head—trying to make sense of this. “Where . . . what are you doing here?”
    She lets out a frustrated sigh and thrusts the schedule into my chest. “I’m trying to find this stupid elective but I’m lost,” she whines. “Help me!”
    Oh, shit. What the hell have I done?
    I take a step back against the wall, attempting to give myself space to think. Space to breathe.
    “Lake, no . . .” I say. I hand her back the schedule without even looking at it. There’s no need to look at it. I know exactly where her “stupid elective” is. I can’t seem to process a coherent thought while looking at her, so I turn around and clasp my hands behind my head.
    She’s a student?
    I’m her teacher?
    Oh, shit.
    I close my eyes and think back to the past week. Who have I told? Who saw us together? Gavin. Shit. There’s no telling who else may have been at Club N9NE. And Lake! She’s about to figure this out any second. What if she thinks I was trying to hide this from her? She could go straight to administration and end my career.
    As soon as the thought crosses my mind, she picks up her backpack and begins to storm off. I reach out and pull her to a stop. “Where are you going?” It’s obvious she’s pissed and I hope her intentions aren’t to report me.
    She rolls her eyes and sighs. “I get it, Will,” she says. “I get it. I’ll leave you alone before your girlfriend sees us.” She pulls her arm out of my grasp and turns away from me.
    “Girlfr—no. No, Lake. I don’t think you do get it.” I wait for her to process what’s happening. I would just come out and say it, but I can’t. I don’t think I could say it out loud if I wanted to.
    The sound of footsteps closing in on us diverts her attention away from me. Javier suddenly rounds the corner and comes to a quick stop when he sees me in the hallway.
    “Oh, man, I thought I was late,” he says.
    If Lake hasn’t figured it all out by now, she’s about to.
    “You are late, Javier,” I reply. I open the door to my classroom and wave him inside. “Javi, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Let the class know they have five minutes to review before the exam.” I slowly close the door behind me and look down at the floor. I can’t look at her. I don’t think my heart can take what she’s about to feel. There’s a brief moment of silence before she quietly gasps. I raise my eyes to hers and the disappointment on her face tears my heart in two. She gets it now.
    “Will,” she whispers painfully. “Please don’t tell me . . .”
    Her voice is weak and she tilts her head slightly to the side, slowly shaking her head back and forth. She isn’t angry. She’s hurt. I’d almost rather her be pissed right now than feel the way she’s feeling. I look up at the ceiling and rub my hands over my face in an attempt not to punch the damn wall. How could I be so stupid? Why wasn’t my profession the first thing I thought to share with her? Why did I not see this as a possibility? I continue to pace, hoping beyond all hope that I’m the one not getting it. When I reach the lockers in front of me, I tap my head against them, silently cursing myself. I’ve really screwed it up this time. For both of us. I drop my hands and reluctantly roll around to face her.
    “How did I not see this? You’re still in high school?”
    She backs up to the wall behind her and leans against it for support. “Me?” she says in defense. “How did the fact that you’re a teacher not come up? How are you a teacher? You’re