“What do you teach?”
“English as a second language,” I tell him.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“You know, I studied under Mrs. Hemswaggle.”
“You did?” I laugh and shake my head. “She’s still at the center. I didn’t know you learned English as your second language.” The school has been in town for a very long time. Students come from all over to be tutored there. We’re one of the only schools in the area that not only teaches ESL, but that teaches shifters specifically. Learning another language is hard enough when you’re human. It’s a million times tougher when you accidentally turn into a panda when you’re stressed. My school only employs shifters, so we’re able to meet the needs of our students in every way.
“Absolutely,” he says, and suddenly, I feel like maybe Henry isn’t going to be so cold to me after all. Maybe this thing between me and Brendan won’t be as awkward when it comes to other people as I thought it might.
“I’m glad she could help you,” I say honestly.
“It wasn’t easy. I was scared when I moved here. My parents knew some English from when they were small and studying in school, but me? Well, I’d never heard it even spoken. She had her work cut out with me, but she made it bearable.”
“You have no discernable accent,” I point out the obvious. I consider myself good at my job, but I wouldn’t have pegged him as a non-native speaker.
“Years of practice,” he smiles. “When I’m tired, you can hear my accent come out.”
That’s not uncommon at all. When you feel tired, trying to use a new language can be exhausting. Trying to maintain a new accent at the same time and to sound “natural” can be even more difficult. I’m not surprised at all to hear that Henry has a hard time controlling his accent when he gets tired.
“Where are you from?” I ask him, suddenly curious. I don’t know if I’m being nosy or not, but I’m certain he’s the type of person who will tell me if I cross any lines.
“There will be time for all of that later,” Brendan points out, interrupting our conversation. “Right now, let’s find out who is after you.” I know that he’s right, but I’m still kind of sad to be brought back into reality. We aren’t here to socialize. We’re here to find out why someone tried to hurt me. We’re here to find out what I got myself into.
He gives the account login information to Henry, who pulls everything up on the computer. He starts looking through the messages we’ve exchanged, and luckily, I didn’t send any selfies or sexual pictures. Everything we exchanged was fairly nuanced and rather tame, so it’s not something I feel I need to be horrified about.
I mean, we sexted a little bit, but it wasn’t anything over-the-top crazy. I wasn’t asking this guy to pull me over his lap and spank me, but I am a woman, and I’m a woman who likes sex. I wasn’t afraid to show this in my chats. I don’t think Henry will give me a hard time about it, though. Besides, Brendan wasn’t embarrassed about the things I said in my chats. Why should I be?
“I’m sure you’ve already discussed this with Brendan,” Henry says. His eyes are glued to the computer and his fingers seem to be moving a million miles an hour as they fly over the keyboard. If he’s surprised by anything he’s reading or looking at, he doesn’t let me know. “But do you have any enemies or anyone who doesn’t like you?”
We hadn’t talked about that.
“Not really. I mean, I’m an English teacher. Nobody really has any thoughts about me at all.” I’m easy to ignore, easy to fly under the radar. The people who notice me are the people who need me to help their kids. Everyone else just kind of views me as “that teacher lady.” I don’t think people consider me much beyond that.
“That’s not how my mother feels,” Brendan points out.
“Yeah, but I didn’t even know your mom didn’t like me until recently,” I remind him. I always thought that Brendan’s mom and I didn’t keep in touch because it would have been too hard for both of us. I didn’t realize it was because she actually hated me or wanted to see me fail.
“That’s true,” Henry says. “His mom hates your guts.” He looks over at Brendan and shrugs. “Sorry, my dude, but I feel like you know that’s true.”
“I only found out last night just how bad it really was,” Brendan says. “I went to see her after Foxy showed up. Apparently, my mom is the reason we broke up.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Henry clicks a couple of things with the mouse. Then he wrinkles his nose as he stares at the computer. He has a new look on his face, but it’s more confusion than horror. Either way, it’s not a good sign, and I’m suddenly even more anxious.
“Relax,” Brendan says, noticing me tense up. “Henry is the very best. He’s going to help us. Everything’s going to be okay.”
I nod, relieved. I mean, they’re just words, but somehow, Brendan always seems to know exactly which words to use to help me feel like I’m safe and protected. Satisfied that I’m not going to have a panic attack or anything like that, he turns back to Henry.
“What is it?”
“I found the user data, but it doesn’t really make sense,” he says. “Give me a second.” He starts typing and clicking again, but I’m lost as to what’s appearing on the screen.
I have no idea what might not be making sense when it comes to something like this. After all, shouldn’t it be pretty cut and dry? But I find myself thinking about what he said. Is there someone who doesn’t like me?
The reality is that I like to have fun, but I also keep my head down. I drink with my friends – Meredith is a bartender, after all – but aside from that, most of my time is spent grading papers or hanging out with my little brother. I don’t exactly get wild.