Fuensalida

Chapter 18

Celeste sat on the chair in her classroom, her butt numb, her whole body ready for something, anything else. She was tired of school already and it had only been a month. At first she had no doubt she could catch up, now that she had surpassed them she was bored.

She closed her book, already finished with the assignment the teacher had given them. She turned, looking out the window, wiling away those last few minutes while the teenagers around her passed notes, gossiped, and in general did everything but the homework that had been assigned to them. She wondered if Mr. Gibbs regretted giving the students extra time to study when this was how they used it.

Mr. Gibbs, a pleasant man with a calm exterior, natural golden blonde hair, and green eyes, was watching Celeste. While other teenagers goofed off and made nuisances of themselves, his attention was drawn to the girl with her cheek in her hand that daydreamed while looking out the window.

Mr. Gibbs pulled his glasses off of his face and gently wiped them with a cloth from his pocket. Placing them back on his face he watched Celeste’s leg go up and down in quick motions. The girl was obviously more anxious than he thought.

He watched a boy lean forward, his eyes drawn to the curves of Celeste’s body. He was doing something to try to gain her attention; she was not even noticing. Her mind was on whatever was beyond that window.

“Did you have something to tell the class?” Mr. Gibbs’s voice rang through the room and the boy blushed, sitting back in his chair.

“No, Mr. Gibbs,” he replied clearly, but quietly.

“I didn’t think so.”

Faces were made at the teacher when his head turned down, faces he clearly saw. Still his interest was not on the unruly amongst them, but on the girl who looked out of place. Mr. Gibbs’s eyes kept glancing towards the girl and several times in the span of five minutes he opened his mouth to say something to her and thought better of it.

The bell rang, mercifully, and the students began to pile out without being dismissed. Mr. Gibbs remained in his chair, watching Celeste move slowly to gather her things, always the last to leave the classroom, almost as if she would suffocate amongst the crowd.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Mr. Gibbs asked of her when she was moving towards the door, the last of the students halfway to their classrooms by now.

She looked up at him with those piercing blue eyes. He knew she was smarter than they were giving her credit for, even with her near perfect grades, and that she was older, if not in body, in mind. He could see almost to the depths of her soul and knew there were many secrets there she was keeping. Her voice, cool and brisk like the Vermont air, belied that innocent girl look she tried to pass off. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You don’t look at all comfortable,” he said to her, unable to find the right word he wanted to use, one that would not be completely offensive to the girl. Her shrug was his answer. “I suppose that answers my question.”

Her eyes narrowed, a bit unkindly. She was not above thinking highly of herself, but this was a gesture of nervousness, one she disguised within the guise of haughtiness. “If you think so.” She looked towards the door, watching a student step into the classroom for the next period. “Was there anything else you needed to ask me?”

Mr. Gibbs frowned. “No, you are free to leave.”

“Thank you. Have a good afternoon, Mr. Gibbs.”

“You too,” he told her, watching her exit the classroom. He turned quickly to the student who had entered his class, who in turn looked startled. “You, tell the class I will be running late and to start on page 85 of the book and start reading. I will be quizzing everyone when I come in.” The student nodded, a bit bewildered before Mr. Gibbs left his classroom to move to the English department’s office.

Logan Gibbs flipped through the database information quickly, looking up Celeste’s information. The girl lived close to the school with her mother and step-father. Her step-father was a lawyer, her mother was a stay-at-home. Logan considered and thought his best bet was calling the mother.

Cassandra Carlton’s voice was a smooth interpretation of Celeste’s. Where Celeste’s was the frigid ice cubes from Svalbard, Cassandra’s was the warm welcoming air of a Hawaiian summer. “Hello, Carlton residence.” Practiced, yet at ease with the words that flowed from her mouth to whomever was on the other end.

“Is this Mrs. Carlton?” Logan asked.

He heard a slight ruffle on the phone and then heard her say, “Yes, this is her.” Nerves, even though she did not lose the warm practice of her voice she was nervous, hesitant in her answers.

“Mrs. Carlton,” Mr. Gibbs said again, trying out the name that did not suit the young voice. He wanted to reassure her while at the same time making her aware this was not a social call. “This is Logan Gibbs, I’m Celeste’s English teacher-”

“Oh my God, is Celeste all right?” Genuine concern. The practiced woman had flown out the window when it was a question of her daughter. He did not really understand why it made him respect this woman that much more.

“Celeste is fine,” he told her, waving off the concern. “I was just hoping we could meet so I could…
hopefully shed some light on what your daughter is like.”

“I… when would you like to meet? I’m free right now.”

It made him smile. “I have another class before the end of the day, if you would not mind stopping by after school I would be happy to meet with you.”

“I’ll be there,” she announced, and that was the end of the conversation. At the end he was hesitant. There was still concern for her daughter, but something else had come through. Something not quite complete concern, back to the nerves she had felt when she had originally been addressed. Was her mother the source of Celeste’s problem? He was sure he would find out soon enough.

Around two hours later Logan Gibbs looked up to see a woman who absolutely did not belong in that school while students were still there. This woman was incredible, a face that was hardly showing its age, a curve of her lips that her daughter lacked, and an ass that might have been a little wide but was yet delectable. Her outfit was terribly inappropriate, a black top with only one sleeve and one shoulder completely bare, and a skirt that her “Guest” badge was nearly as long as. The black heels on her feet only made those tanned legs look even more perfect.

“Mr. Gibbs?” The warm summer’s breeze voice told him who she was, even if the exact looks of her daughter had not.

He had to close his mouth and swallow. “Yes, yes, you must be…” He was still overwhelmed by her, having not expected a replica of the cold girl at the front of his class. Of course there were subtle differences, Celeste remained pale and had long hair, and Cassie’s eyes, while not as shockingly blue, were just a bit warmer. It was those differences that had him watching Cassie stroll into his classroom.

“Yes, I’m Celeste Carlton’s mother, Cassandra, but you can call me Cassie.” Cassie stepped over and held out her hand to him.

He remembered in time to stand from his desk and offer his hand in kind. “Cassie then. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well,” she smiled. She released his hand and moved to the edge of his desk and hopped so that she was perched on the edge. “I’m glad you could see me so soon.”

Logan slid back into his seat, unable to help from watching the expanse of leg that was showing when she crossed those legs of hers. If her skirt went any higher he would know her biblically, and he found himself hoping it would. “Of course,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “I try to make myself available.” He hoped he could play it off as if it had been a long day and not clear his throat in an obvious manner.

Cassie grinned and it was dazzling on her face. “Well considering the way teachers seem to have gradually changed into robots since I was in high school that is a relief.” She shifted and he was more than a little disappointed when her skirt went lower instead. “Now, what is it we need to talk about? Celeste never struck me as the type to act out.”

“No, no, it’s not so much that she’s acting out.” He tore his gaze away from her legs to look up into her eyes. “It’s more of the opposite, really.”

Cassie pursed her lips and could only say, “Oh?”

“While it is normal for a student to be a little nervous and shy in a new school, she seems to be basically keeping to herself entirely.”

Cassie, surprisingly, did not seem too surprised by that information. “Well, she’s always been a little introverted.”

Logan nodded. “I see. I’m just a little concerned,” he said, hoping now he had not made a big deal out of a girl who was just exponentially shy. “She’s obviously quite bright, but she doesn’t act like she wants to participate in class at all.”

Cassie shifted, biting her lip. That tidbit seemed to put her ill at ease. “Really?”

He found his eyes back on the expanse of thigh and tried to focus instead on the mahogany of the desk, hoping to look like a concerned teacher instead of a gaping pervert. “If I ask her something specifically, she’ll give an answer. Otherwise she sits in her chair looking anxious to be gone.”

“That’s a bit worse,” Cassie nods to herself. “She used to be so excited in class. She likes to show off how smart she is. I mean, not to brag, or make her sound conceited.”

Logan just nodded. “I understand what you’re saying. When I ask her how she’s feeling she brushes me off.”
“That’s not like her,” Cassie agreed. “Introverted, but polite.”

“Then it is definitely good that we could have this talk,” Logan agreed. “I just wish I had some idea of what could be causing her difficulties.”

Cassie worried her lip for a few minutes, debating her words carefully. Logan took note but remained patient. “I remarried recently,” which was not entirely a lie. “We moved here just recently, a few days before she started school. Maybe she just isn’t adjusting.”

Excuses. There was also something she wasn’t telling him. He nodded in false understanding. “That does sound like quite the transition to go through all at once.”

After consideration Cassie seemed to go on the defensive with that. “Yes, but she was the one who wanted to come to Vermont.”

“Had she been to Vermont previously?”

“No,” she said, remembering something from another life. “She wanted a good school. She went to the library, did research, and brought it to us one night that this was where she wanted her new life to start.” She was going to burn in Hell, was all she could think. She was making it seem like it had been a discussion, that they had indulged a child who was having a rough time with a new marriage.

“I see,” he said, looking her over. The man this woman must have married… “Forgive me if this sounds like prying, but how’s her relationship with your husband?”

“Oh… um… well…”

Logan’s eyes widened a bit. He could not help it. The practiced woman with the warm voice finally had lost her stride, at what was likely the most inopportune time.

She chuckled a bit, trying to wave it off. “It’s probably not a healthy relationship,” she admitted. “He’s not really a… father figure.” Oh God, was she sounding like she was telling him the truth, she was trying to rely on him figuring they have more a friend relationship, or that he is spoiling her to try to win. She did not want to admit that Celeste’s new ‘father’ had taken her virginity while her parents watched and likely was still bitter about it.

“That sounds like it might be related to her issues.” His voice was hesitant.

Cassie nodded sadly. “Likely.” He nodded hesitantly. “I don’t exactly know how to help her with that,” she admitted.

“No?” he questioned.

“Not really, no,” she sighed.

Logan looked down. “Well, that’s not really my department.”

Cassie laughed a bit and patted his shoulder. “I guess I didn’t expect you to have the answers.”

He managed a small smile and wiped his brow exaggeratedly, trying to cover he wanted her to keep her hand on his shoulder. “That’s something of a relief.”

“I’m glad one of us is relieved,” she laughed, her voice light despite the dreariness of the situation.

“I’m not relieved about the situation itself,” he said with all seriousness. “Merely that you didn’t come in here with unrealistic expectations of what I might be able to do.”

“You aren’t a psychologist,” Cassie said with a smile. “Would have been nicer if you had been, but she is my daughter, my burden, light of my life, and I will find a way to address this with her.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad that you were willing to meet with me on such short notice.” He cleared his throat now, reluctantly leaning back and away from the hand she had left on him for so long. “Some parents have to be dragged kicking and screaming into any discussion of their children.”

“Despite everything,” she started, and he wondered what she was referring to, “Celeste comes first to me. If someone has a concern with my daughter I want it said to me.”

“Like I said, her class work itself is great. She does excellent work and everything is turned in on time. My concerns are with her social development.” He looked over the woman in front of him, propped on the edge of his desk looking like she was barely legal to drink, not like she was the mother of a fifteen-year-old-attitude-problem.

“I will be sure to talk it over with her.” Cassie shifted again on the desk, her skirt moving up her legs at the wiggle. “And you will keep me updated?”

He swallowed hard before speaking. “Of course. Should I leave you a message in a couple of weeks? Or if something changes?”

“Sooner, if possible,” she said. “But yes, if something changes I would like to know.”

He nodded again. “Sooner? I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Cassie laughed that warm infectious laughter that made him smile. “Not a bother at all. I’m a housewife, I don’t do much but take care of my ungrateful family.” The smile said she was mostly joking, that she enjoyed her life, but there was still something dark for a moment there. Something he saw haunting Celeste’s eyes every day.
“All right, so I should just use the number on file?” he asked.

“Yes, you should,” she nodded, knowing she would be the only one to answer the phone.

“Call you in a week?” he suggested, definitely sooner. He was not sure what it was, if it was just the warmth and promise in her voice, but he longed to hear it again.

“Talk to you in a week, Mr. Gibbs,” Cassie smiled brightly. “I look forward to it.” She held out her hand to him and he stood to shake her hand.

“My number is in the directory if you need to call me for anything,” he pointed out, though he assumed it was unnecessary.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” She gave his fingers an extra squeeze.

“It’s no problem,” he told her lightly. “Hope I can help somehow. Of course, until after four thirty on school days my phone is shut off, so you’d need to leave a voice mail.”

“Not a problem at all.”

“Fantastic.”

Cassie slid off of the desk and released his hand gently. “Have a good evening, Mr. Gibbs. I will talk to you very soon.”

“I’ll talk to you then.”