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Authors: David Drayer
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disrupted the monthly haircuts for the next year or so.
Kerri was repeatedly mistaken for a boy and when Mother overhead this, she’d laugh. The bigger fuss Kerri made when it was announced that she was “due for a haircut,” the shorter and more severe the cut would be. Grammy, who’d missed the long hair almost as much as Kerri did, was the key to growing it back. Kerri cried to Grammy and Grammy nagged Rebecca, insisting that Kerri was plenty old enough to choose her own hairstyle and should be allowed to grow it back if she chose to do so. “I don’t care what she does as long as she keeps it clean and brushed,” her mother had eventually said, as if that had anything to do with why it had been cut and kept short.
Kerri was putting on her coat when Timmy came back into the kitchen. He said in a low voice, “Why did you tell Mom you were at Lynn’s last night? I thought the whole point of screwing around with losers was to piss her off.”
She sat on the antique gossip bench and zipped up her boots. “I wasn’t with a loser last night.”
“Who then?”
“Someone who made me feel…who makes me want to be…” Hell! There was no way she could put it into words without sounding like a cardboard character in some cheesy romance. “I don’t know. But it was different. I didn’t tell Mom because it’s none of her business.” And it was even more than that. She felt protective of Seth, a sentiment that she didn’t remember ever feeling for anyone but herself. School started in a week and this kind of fraternizing with a student, even if she was no longer his student, would jeopardize his livelihood and very possibly bring an end to something he loved doing.
“Do I know him?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, “because I’m sure that he has figured out by now that I’m a fuck-up and that getting involved with me would be the worst thing he could ever do.”
“You’re not a fuck-up, Kerri. I wish you’d stop saying that.”
She realized that she wanted to tell someone and that Timmy was the only person she really could tell. “You have to keep it quiet. I don’t want anyone to know.”
“Done. So?”
“Do you remember the hot teacher I was crushing on?”
“The guy who wrote the novel?”
She smiled and nodded.
Timmy raked the hair out of his eyes, his hand stopping halfway back his head as if stuck in his mop of hair. “You slept with your English professor?!”
“Shhh!”
“That’s the special guy ?”
“I shouldn’t have told you.” Kerri turned to leave.
“No, no,” he grabbed her arm. “I’m just surprised. How…how old is he?”
Kerri pulled her arm away and continued to the car. “Goodbye, Timmy.”
“Kerri!” He followed her into the garage. “I’m just surprised that’s all. I wasn’t expecting that.”
Kerri got into her car and lowered the window. “What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know. Not your professor! You have to admit it sounds like typical bad-ass Kerri.”
“Well, it’s not. Maybe it started that way, but…” She remembered the way Seth had stayed naked throughout the evening, not posing or primping, but as if he’d forgotten that he was nude. His body was much like she had imagined it: muscular arms and shoulders, a nice chest, a flat stomach, well developed legs covered with soft, dark hair. What’s the matter, Ms. Engel? He’d said, catching her staring at him. Get in over your head?
“But…?” Timmy asked.
“I got in over my head.” She hit the garage door opener. “I’m late.”
“When do you get off tonight?”
“I have to close; I won’t be out till midnight.”
“I’ll wait up.”
The house was dark when Kerri returned from work, but that didn’t discourage her from bounding up the steps two at a time and bursting into Timmy’s room.
“Did you ever hear of knocking?” he said, sitting up in bed, reading a book.
“He called!” she said, climbing under the blankets. She had carried her
Kerri was repeatedly mistaken for a boy and when Mother overhead this, she’d laugh. The bigger fuss Kerri made when it was announced that she was “due for a haircut,” the shorter and more severe the cut would be. Grammy, who’d missed the long hair almost as much as Kerri did, was the key to growing it back. Kerri cried to Grammy and Grammy nagged Rebecca, insisting that Kerri was plenty old enough to choose her own hairstyle and should be allowed to grow it back if she chose to do so. “I don’t care what she does as long as she keeps it clean and brushed,” her mother had eventually said, as if that had anything to do with why it had been cut and kept short.
Kerri was putting on her coat when Timmy came back into the kitchen. He said in a low voice, “Why did you tell Mom you were at Lynn’s last night? I thought the whole point of screwing around with losers was to piss her off.”
She sat on the antique gossip bench and zipped up her boots. “I wasn’t with a loser last night.”
“Who then?”
“Someone who made me feel…who makes me want to be…” Hell! There was no way she could put it into words without sounding like a cardboard character in some cheesy romance. “I don’t know. But it was different. I didn’t tell Mom because it’s none of her business.” And it was even more than that. She felt protective of Seth, a sentiment that she didn’t remember ever feeling for anyone but herself. School started in a week and this kind of fraternizing with a student, even if she was no longer his student, would jeopardize his livelihood and very possibly bring an end to something he loved doing.
“Do I know him?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, “because I’m sure that he has figured out by now that I’m a fuck-up and that getting involved with me would be the worst thing he could ever do.”
“You’re not a fuck-up, Kerri. I wish you’d stop saying that.”
She realized that she wanted to tell someone and that Timmy was the only person she really could tell. “You have to keep it quiet. I don’t want anyone to know.”
“Done. So?”
“Do you remember the hot teacher I was crushing on?”
“The guy who wrote the novel?”
She smiled and nodded.
Timmy raked the hair out of his eyes, his hand stopping halfway back his head as if stuck in his mop of hair. “You slept with your English professor?!”
“Shhh!”
“That’s the special guy ?”
“I shouldn’t have told you.” Kerri turned to leave.
“No, no,” he grabbed her arm. “I’m just surprised. How…how old is he?”
Kerri pulled her arm away and continued to the car. “Goodbye, Timmy.”
“Kerri!” He followed her into the garage. “I’m just surprised that’s all. I wasn’t expecting that.”
Kerri got into her car and lowered the window. “What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know. Not your professor! You have to admit it sounds like typical bad-ass Kerri.”
“Well, it’s not. Maybe it started that way, but…” She remembered the way Seth had stayed naked throughout the evening, not posing or primping, but as if he’d forgotten that he was nude. His body was much like she had imagined it: muscular arms and shoulders, a nice chest, a flat stomach, well developed legs covered with soft, dark hair. What’s the matter, Ms. Engel? He’d said, catching her staring at him. Get in over your head?
“But…?” Timmy asked.
“I got in over my head.” She hit the garage door opener. “I’m late.”
“When do you get off tonight?”
“I have to close; I won’t be out till midnight.”
“I’ll wait up.”
The house was dark when Kerri returned from work, but that didn’t discourage her from bounding up the steps two at a time and bursting into Timmy’s room.
“Did you ever hear of knocking?” he said, sitting up in bed, reading a book.
“He called!” she said, climbing under the blankets. She had carried her
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