Teach Me (13 page)

             
I sit through sixth period with Christina, and she is telling me about this new guy she likes, Andrew. I want to tell her everything about Cooper, but she thinks things ended months ago. I feel like I am going to throw up. There is an ache in my lower back, and it feels like someone has kicked me there repeatedly. The bell rings. I stand and move robotically. My world has shifted and is crumbling before my very eyes. I am aware that Jeremy is walking me to class, holding my bag. I take my seat and try to fight back the urge to vomit.

             
I hear Cooper call the class to order. He is talking about winter break and what some of the students did. I didn’t hear him call my name.

             
“Hey, Ali.”
Jeremy touches my hand. I look at him, and his eyes widen. “You okay?” I stand up and realize everyone is staring at me. I close my eyes and feel so dizzy and brace myself against the desk. I finally will my eyes to open so I don’t throw up in class, and Cooper is staring at me. I watch him take a step toward me, his eyebrows knit together in worry, and his hand raises then falls back to his side. The tears burn in my eyes, and I just head for the door, not looking back.

             
“Allison,” Cooper calls my name.

             
“I will take care of this, Mr. P.,” Jeremy says, following me out. I am only a few feet outside of class when Jeremy catches up with me. I wanted to run except my legs feel like they are filled with lead.

             
“Hey,” Jeremy says, holding my shoulders. “What is going on? Do you need me to take you to the nurse?” His voice is low and gentle.

             
“I’m fine,” I lie, panting for air.

             
“Like hell you are,” he says, taking me into his arms. Maybe this is where I belong, with someone like Jeremy, someone at my maturity level that I can be infatuated with. I gulp in the air, but it never seems like enough. The words Coop said to the principal echo in my head.

             
“I’m not feeling well—I just needed some fresh air,” I tell him. He accepts this answer and sits with me until class is almost over. He keeps his arms around me, and I hold back the tears. Jeremy doesn’t ask me anything; he just lets me be. We are still sitting on a stone planter as Cooper walks up.

             
“Everything okay out here?” the two-timing son of a gun asks. I can’t even look at him.

             
“I think so, Mr. Perez, we were just coming back to class,” Jeremy answers and helps me to my feet. I see Cooper’s hand twitch as if he wants to help me again.

             
“Very well,” he says, and Jeremy leads me to my seat. The minutes tick by until the bell finally rings.

             
“Can I take you home?” Jeremy asks.

             
I shake my head no. “I am staying late for some tutoring stuff,” I tell him. I am supposed to go over the discrepancies I found earlier today. Cooper is sitting on the edge of his desk talking to Hillary, who is obviously flirting with him. She is sticking out her chest and flipping her hair. Cooper doesn’t seem to notice any of it.
Just another delusional teenager.
Maybe I’ll start a club. Or maybe he can date her too; add a third to the mix.
All her questions are finally answered, and we are alone. Since the class is empty, I stand up. I feel like I am going to pass out but push myself to take a step further on my uncooperative legs.

             
Before I can reach the door Cooper shuts it and turns around; concern is covering his face. “Please tell me what is wrong,” he begs, opening his arms as he walks toward me.

             
“I can’t even talk to you right now,” I manage to say. I gather all the strength I have and try to move past him. Cooper grabs me by the shoulders, and my heart rate doubles. His eyes are a dark blue, like stormy water.

             
“Come on, Ali, it’s me here.” He looks so upset, but I still shake him off. Not again. I can’t go through not having him again. I need to be strong and stand up for myself.

             
“No, it isn’t, Mr. Perez. I would hate to ruin our professional relationship with my immaturity and be deluded into thinking this was something more.” I drop my bag on the ground. “You know, since I am so delusional with infatuation and all. Oh, and what would the woman you’ve been dating think of all of this, Ms. Sherman?  Bet she’d get real upset to find us alone in your classroom.” I put my hands on my hips and wait for his rebuttal.

             
He looks stunned. “Let me explain.”

Then I do the unthinkable—I slap him.
Really hard.
Cooper’s hand flies to his cheek, and I push past him.

             
My skin is so clammy that I feel extremely cold as I walk outside. I don’t know where to go or what to do. I just want to get away. The courtyard is deserted, and I spin around. The ground seems to be uneven under my feet, as if I am walking on a boat. It is hard to catch my breath, and the pain in my stomach is so intense I feel dizzy. The pain in my heart is even worse. I look around for somewhere to sit, but my legs won’t move—they are numb.

             
My world starts to spin, and I can’t focus on anything. Black spots cloud my vision. It feels like I am being strangled. The last thing I remember seeing is Cooper running toward me, but he is sideways, and I hear him yelling my name, but he sounds like he is under water. My body crashed into the hard cold cement.

             
Nothing except total darkness.

T e n

Cooper

             
It is obvious Ali heard what I told Mr. Matthews. What did she expect?  That I confess how much I love her and risk everything?  I mean, when I found Chino on the map, its largest landmark was the Men’s Prison. She just slapped me, and I have to admit, for someone so small, it hurt like hell. She looked really messed up though. Her skin was paler than normal, and she seemed to be walking funny. I bend down and pick her bag up off the ground and go outside; she can’t be too far, and I have to explain.

             
She is still in the courtyard outside my classroom. She is not moving right, rigid, as if she is in pain. I call to her, and she doesn’t respond. I move toward her, feeling nervous. Something is definitely wrong.

             
Then she turns and looks at me, her eyes roll back into her head, and she crashes to the ground.

             
“Allison!” I yell and get to her just as she hits the concrete. Her skin is clammy and turning blue.

             
“Help!”
I yell, scooping her head into my hands. I keep yelling and try to take her pulse. It is very weak. After what seemed like days of yelling, some
goth
-looking kid appears.

             
“What happened?” he asks, looking strung out and unconcerned.

             
“Call 911,” I demand, looking and pointing at the cell phone in his hand. I turn back to Ali and try to decide if I should start CPR.

             
“I did call, when I saw her fall,” he says slowly. I turn Ali and lay her flat on her back, keeping my fingers on her carotid artery.

             
I lean in closer to listen for breaths
hovering
my ear right above her mouth. Her breathing is so shallow I can hardly feel it. “Ali, listen to me,” I tell her. “I need you to be okay. I need you to fight.” This can’t be happening.

             
I can hear the sirens but can’t tell how close they are. A fog of fear has engulfed me. Out of thin air, a team of paramedics is around us. One of them is pulling me back, away from Ali.

             
“Sir, can you tell us what happened?” some guy starts asking me. I watch as they lift her to a gurney and put an oxygen mask over her face.

             
“She was acting strange
. . .
she fell
. . .
passed out,” I tried to explain. “I need to stay with her.” I moved forward.

             
“Sir, we will take good care of her. Can you give us some more information?” I pushed the oh-so-helpful paramedic aside, but he stopped me. “You said she had been acting strange, can you elaborate?”

             
“I will tell you whatever you want on the ride over.” I head toward the ambulance, not letting Allison out of my sight. They don’t fight me anymore. Someone continues to ask me questions, and I give them one-word answers. All my attention is on the fragile girl strapped to the gurney.

             
I sit next to Ali and take her cold hand in mine. Her eyes keep flickering open, but she is unaware. I want her to know I am here and not to be afraid. The paramedics are putting all kinds of bands on her and cut her shirt open and stick something to her chest. When her heart rate shows on the monitor, I hear them talk about problems. I am just watching for Ali’s dark eyes to open.

             
“I’m here, Ali.” I lean in and whisper into her ear. Her skin is so cold and almost chalky. Her eyes finally look in my direction. “I am here,” I say again and move as close as I can. “I love you.” Her eyes roll back, and then the monitor makes a horrible beeping sound. I turn to look at it.

             
There was no rhythm. Ali’s heart had stopped beating. I broke Allison Starr’s heart.

***

             
Time doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. Everything around me was a blur of noise and movement. When we arrived at the emergency room, everyone, except me, was in “fast forward” as the paramedics rushed Ali somewhere deep into the hospital. I was taken somewhere else to answer questions. Reviewing my brief answers in the ambulance ride, I was
told they needed even more information. After telling them who I was, her teacher, and what I had seen, her passing out, they called her father and I called her Aunt Trudy.

             
“Hello,” she answered cheerfully.

             
“Trudy,” I managed to say.

             
“Who is this?” She sounded instantly concerned.

             
“It’s Ryan.” I held back a sob. “Cooper
Ryan,
and something is wrong with Ali.” I gave her a run of the events, as much as I could.

             
“I’m on my way,” she said, and the line went dead.

             
I kept asking about Ali at the nurses’ desk, but because I wasn’t family, I wasn’t given any information.

             
“Sir, I know you are her teacher and are concerned, but
. . .
”

             
“I’m not her teacher!” I yell at the nurse. “I’m her boyfriend.” The admitting nurse’s eyes widen then squint.

             
“According to the paperwork, you said you are her English teacher.” I can’t remember filling out any paperwork. “Which is it, Mr. Perez?” I don’t answer. I just stumble back and somehow make it to a chair.

             
The hospital clock ticks by, but I don’t have any idea how long I have been here.

             
“Where is she?” a deep voice booms. “I’m her father, Robert Starr.” I jump to my feet and walk boldly over to him. The nurse is explaining something to him, and fear inflicts his face. Sometime on my short walk over to him, I started to cry.

             
“Mr. Starr,” I stutter. He looks down to me, and his eyes are troubled and rimmed with tears. “I’m Cooper,” I say. He stares at me for a long minute.

             
“You brought her, my Ali, here?” he says.
“The teacher?”
I don’t know how to answer him. Before I can answer, he asks, “Hold on
. . .
Cooper
. . .
from the beach this past summer?”

             
I sigh and look to the shiny white hospital floor. “Yes,” is all I can manage, answering both
questions.
I swallow, waiting to be punched or yelled at.

             
Neither happens.

             
Mr. Starr pulls me into a hug and starts to cry. Not just cry, but full-on sobbing. My barrier
cracks,
and I cry along with him. My whole being feels like it is crumbling as I embrace him back. He finally pulls it together long enough to have it all click in his head.

             
He pushes me back, and the understanding is just beneath the surface of his glare. “Wait.” I hold my breath.
“Ali’s boyfriend or her teacher?”

             
“Sir,” I say. “I can explain.” Before I can, Mr. Starr’s fist comes in contact with my face like I had first anticipated. I stumble backward and crumple to the cold floor.