Brandon gingerly sat next to Joey. Class had begun. Sir. Dickens was speaking at the front, welcoming the learners. It’s their first period of the day. He went on to ask for their homework. They sent the books forward.

Brandon kept dabbing his hand below, hissing. Joey couldn’t avoid it anymore. He asked him what happened. 

“Got into some trouble with the teacher. Mrs Gardner.”

Joey laughed. “The infamous pincers.”

“The what?”

“The pincers. You know, when a crab stings you.”

“Crab, oh, yes. There couldn’t be a better description. Although I think the crab’s sting wouldn’t be this sore.”

Joey smiled. “You must’ve done some crazy shit for her to hit you with that,” he said. “Every teacher here is like a villain. They have their own traits.”

After making sure that every learner submitted a book Dickens resumed with his lesson. Brandon paid him little attention. Not on purpose, though. This issue with Joey. He saw him on the last place he thought he’d see him at. He caught him, in a way. 

“I was there for some weed,” Joey said. “You? Don’t lie, bro.”

Brandon was about to say the same thing. But if he was also there for weed he would’ve bumped into Joey at the shack’s door. Instead Joey saw him enter the main house, where the members chilled. “I deal drugs, Joey.”

“Shit.”

They both looked back at Ben. He was seated at the middle rear with some girl. He didn’t notice them, too busy with a calculator, writing down the answer it gave him. 

“Please don’t tell him,” Brandon said. 

“Relax. I’m no snitch,” Joey said. He sounded assuring. So when he asked Brandon how the hell did he get involved into this Brandon told him everything. Starting with Jules.

“I curse the day I met that girl. I didn’t even know she had a brother, didn’t know who Skitzo was. I just liked her. We dated. Then we broke up, I broke up with her. It was dramatic. Then Skitzo threatened me into this deal. It’s either that or he was gonna shoot me.” Brandon didn’t care how this story made him look. It was true. And besides, he wanted Joey’s trust, now that Joey knew he’s dealing. The explanation would make him understand.

“But it’s only for a limited time. I only need to finish selling this size.”

“What if they give you more to sell?”

Brandon had never thought about that. “They wouldn’t.”

“They forced your ass to sell for ‘em. What’s stopping them from making this forever?”

“We talked yesterday and they said even if I wanted to join the gang I wouldn’t qualify. I’m too weak,” Brandon said. “That’s the first time I became proud of my weakness.”

Joey chuckled. “Can’t you buy all the drugs they gave you? So you can end this?” Joey muttered. 

“I’ve been thinking about that, but the stuff is too many. I can’t afford it. I’d have to save for like, two years.”

“How much is left?” 

Brandon told him. 

“Damn, that’s a lot.”

“I’m fucked.”

“Can’t you ask someone to give you the money?”

“My dad would kill me if he found out about this.”

“You don’t have to tell him about the drugs,” Joey said. “Tell him you need to buy something.”

“Like what? He’ll need to see that thing.” 

Joey started thinking but he failed to come up with anything more to say. His silence said, Yeah, bro, you’re really fucked. 

At least so far none of the rival gangs have noticed Brandon. 

“Now I see why we couldn’t get you during break time,” Joey said. “You’d run off with Skitzo.”

Brandon nodded. 

“This is some nasty business, bro.”

“Like I don’t know that already.”

“Hope you survive this. You got fired out of your last school. Can’t get fired here too.”

It sounded funny the way he said it. Fired, like he’s lost a job. 

“I can’t,” Brandon agreed.

“Hope you survive this.”

“I will. I hope so too. If only you promise to stay quiet,” he said. 

“Don’t worry. I got you.”

Brandon looked at him. “Don’t make a song about this.”

Joey laughed, then he immediately pressed his hands against his big mouth. Sir. Dickens didn’t hear that. He’d worn back his glasses and was now writing something. 

They all got up at the sound of the bell. Period’s over. Leaving the class, Brandon saw the English teacher walking with another woman. A woman whom he wasn’t sure was also a teacher. She looked more important. A visitor from the district perhaps. She and Nicole were walking past, talking heavily about something he didn’t hear. Among all his classmates the English teacher didn’t notice him. She only looked their way when a few of them greeted. He noted how boys looked at her. He found it understandable. Girls also looked at her the same way. Boys wished they had her. Girls wished they were her. 

Back in her class this morning she had outsmarted him, Brandon. He had expected her to throw a slap, like yesterday. But she gave him something else. Another form of attack. The pinch. Her nails had locked in like a dog’s bite, refusing to let go. Even when the blood came out, she still held on. How far would she have went with this if he hadn’t thought about kissing her? He didn’t even think about it, he just went in with his mouth. That’s when she stopped. 

He had felt like hurting her, to return the pain. He thought about biting her tongue or her lips, but the kiss tasted good. His arms enjoyed the touch of her waist, the handle of her body. Her warmth transferred to him. She felt so young in his hands. The gap in age and positions vanished in that moment. It didn’t matter. 

Was he merely lusting after the teacher or was he truthful in saying he liked her? There was a difference between loving someone and loving their body. Although sometimes the two can merge, depending on the context. Loving somebody and loving some body, he thought playfully. Lust meant taking, love giving. He gave her flowers, and a kiss. But the way it happened it looked as though he took the kiss, instead of giving it. Regardless of the ambiguity the heart never lied. What he felt corresponded with what he told her. He was willing to give her more, to prove it. To see how far this will end. Clearly it headed somewhere, wherever that will be. Brandon had long prepared for the journey. He was ready.

***

It’s no secret that every teacher had their favorite learners, or class. The secret was who the learners were and which class did they belong to. Nicole’s were the bunch that left now, Grade 11B. She wished they were her class. They were a joy to work with. They made her job easy. Teaching them felt like reminding them of something they already knew. They were quick to grasp what she told them. She never had to repeat herself. It wasn’t because they were smart that she liked them so much. They showed effort, they were engaging. When she asked a question so many hands went up, eager to give a response. More hands raised than the ones which were not, which meant they were getting it, whatever she taught them. Not that the questions were easy, but there was excitement in the lesson. No one looked bored. Seldom she dealt with their noise, which never went higher than usual. Higher than most classes. When she arrived five minutes late – she’d been caught up at the rest room – she found the learners already working. Books were opened. Small voices floated around the room, discussing the novel. It’s this professionalism that added to her approval of these kids.

The next class found her standing, with the novel on her hands. “Hurry up, hurry up.” They walked by dragging their feet. School bags zipped open. 

Only Martin Cooper was her favorite here. Top five achiever last year. Her least favorite sat at the front. Brandon. He smiled when she looked at him. That’s how it’s been throughout the lesson. 

She couldn’t focus. She struggled. The boy at the front, Brandon. She couldn’t avoid him. She could feel his stare, his smile, his presence. She tried to ignore him, to focus at the rest of the class, but Brandon called her with his look, with his smile. She had to give in by returning the look. His smile curved more. 

Something about him pulled her. This energy. Please go sit at the back, she wanted to tell him. That would create theories among the others. Did he tell his friends about the kiss? 

She continued teaching, looked at him again. That smile. It’s possible he told his friends, even bragged about it. Isn’t that what these teens do? If Frederic hadn’t disturbed them she would’ve told the boy not to tell anyone. But even if he did tell anyone she had the power to deny. Who would they believe? The boy’s story would be nothing but a fantasy, a wish. 

The lesson ended. Learners left the class for the break. As he was about to step out as well she called him to her desk. 

His classmates evacuated the room. They were alone now. 

“I would like you to be discreet about the events of this morning,” she said. 

“You mean that amazing kiss?” 

“Don’t be loud.” She checked the door behind him. Everyone had gotten out. 

“I didn’t tell anyone,” he said. 

“Good. You’re dismissed,” she said, already opening her book of syllabus. But he still stood there. She gave him a stare. “I said you’re dismissed, boy.”

“My name is Brandon.”

“Brandon. You can leave now.” Perhaps he didn’t know what dismissed meant. This was the same boy who told her Mrs. Gardner isn’t her name technically. How embarrassing that had been. She had to resort to a Grade 1 topic. Even Grade 1’s knew better. 

“Why you don’t want anyone to know?” He asked.

She took off her glasses. “Excuse me?” 

“You are ashamed of me.”

She laughed at the audacity. Who the hell did he think he was? “You are just a learner. Nothing more, nothing less. I’m more ashamed of…” What? The kiss? She didn’t want to call it that, even though that’s exactly what it had been. It’s too inappropriate to be even called by something. “…I’m more ashamed of what happened. Aren’t you ashamed? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? What you did?” She sounded reproachful.

“I’m actually proud, Ma’am,” he said, smiling. His teeth looked brand new. “I told you I like you.”

She felt it again. The anger. The urge of slapping him, or the pincer. She’d squeeze him so hard this time she wouldn’t let go even if he tried another kiss. “I’m going to have to take this to the office. I’m sure Foley would be delighted to see you. The new kid.”

The principal’s name wiped off the smile. 

“And what will you say to him, Ma’am?”

“Nothing,” Nicole said. “I just need to show him the flower and the note. And your book.” 

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“But…so you kept the flowers? And the note?”

“Only for that reason. Besides, why would I lie to Foley? He’ll take this seriously. You might get kicked out of school again.”

“Again? Wait…you know I got kicked out of my last school?”

“I did my research on you. Brandon Jacobs Junior. I admit the lilies had me curious. You cheated on your final exams. That’s not so surprising, looking at what you’ve been doing. You have a not-so-nice history. Don’t make it repeat here.”

She won. Nicole could see it on his face. He looked down, searching for a response. But when he looked at her again he couldn’t say anything.

“What’s the matter, boy? Cat’s got your tongue?”

“My name is Brandon.”

“A name can be any word we use to identity someone with and call them by. Have you forgotten the lesson? I’ll call you boy. That’s what you are. You’ll always be a boy to me.”

When he smacked his hand on the desk she almost jumped. She recalled how he held her during the kiss (Don’t call it that!) His strong grip. How she felt helpless, felt like he’ll never ever let her go. His mouth twisted with hers, wet and smooching. Leaving his spit on her. It has been a while since she’s engaged in a kiss like that. It felt good, she couldn’t object to that feeling. It felt good, but it was wrong. 

“You think you won, but this isn’t over.” He left the class. 

The incredulity of his threat meant nothing compared to how he delivered it. For a long moment Nicole sat thinking. She was still surprised by the smack, but what surprised her the most was that she did feel threatened.