I swallowed. I didn’t want to say it out loud – that I was making an eleventh-hour bid to alter my future. That I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to do it.

‘If you want, I can send you my notes from last six weeks, and you can ask me questions.’ Her dark eyes held a dare, not pity.

I nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘Don’t be afraid to ask for help from your teachers, too. They’re just people, you know.’ I arched a brow and she smirked. ‘Well, most of them.’

Over the next several weeks, she saved me from failing my junior year – not just chemistry, but literature and pre-cal. Thanks to her help, my brain woke up from three years of hibernation.

‘Pearl Frank?’ Mrs Ingram prompted now, as if I wouldn’t remember the tutoring or who gave it. I wasn’t sure how she knew, but I damned sure wasn’t going to ask.

‘Yes,’ I answered.

She hated me right now. In my first few months of taekwondo, I’d become more aware of the clues that someone was progressing from irritation to rage. Recognizing the level of likelihood that someone might f**king lose it any second was necessary for defence, after all. Her physical indications were minor, but they were there.

‘I understand you were arrested last spring for assault. Plea bargained to probation, fortunately.’ Fortunately was not what she wanted to call it.

I said nothing.

Pearl told me once that Ingram was the type of leader who believed in addition by subtraction. ‘It’s half genius, half cheating. They remove the lowest-scoring students, employees with bad service records, et cetera, which raises the overall score or ranking of the organization.’

Finally, Ingram broke rank and flat-out glared. ‘Why aren’t you answering me, Mr Maxfield?’

One brow angled. ‘You aren’t asking any questions.’

Her eyes blazed. ‘Let me be clear. I don’t know what game you’re playing here, or what your business is with Miss Frank, but I don’t want her valuable time wasted for your nonsense. I don’t believe for two seconds that you have the essential work ethics or the life and interpersonal skills necessary to represent this school and its exemplary educational standards.’

I bit my lip to keep from correcting her. According to the state, her school was far from exemplary.

I tuned her out as she blathered on about my lack of integrity and critical-thinking skills and respect for authority. Funny how people who railed about other people’s lack of respect usually weren’t willing to offer any in exchange.

When she stopped, my ears rang. ‘Do we understand each other, young man?’ She clearly expected an answer to more than that question – or a heated reaction. She was doomed to be disappointed.

‘I believe so. Are we finished here, Mrs Ingram?’ I stood, casting a broad shadow over her desk from the east-facing window behind me. ‘I have a class to get to. Unless you want to make me late the first day.’ On cue, the first bell rang.

She stood, but still craned her neck to look up at me. I’d reached my dad’s imposing height over the summer, and she didn’t care for me looming a foot over her. I slid a hand into my front pocket and shifted my weight to one side – as close to a ceasefire as I’d give her. I wasn’t fourteen any more, and this woman was not going to trash my chances of getting out of this town and into college.

‘You’re dismissed. But I’m watching you.’

Uh-huh, I thought, turning and leaving without response.

I wondered why in the hell someone like her would pursue a career in education in the first place, but I wouldn’t ask. Everyone isn’t logical. Everything doesn’t make sense in the end. Sometimes you have to forget about explanations or excuses and leave people and places behind, because otherwise they will drag you straight down.

LUCAS

Saturday morning, it had been thirty-something hours since I’d seen Jacqueline. Sergeant Ellsworth and I suited up for the final module in the locker room. The two of us weren’t supposed to arrive until halfway through the class, because we would serve only one purpose today: ‘attackers’, which necessitated emotional distance from the ‘victims’.

When we entered the room, fully padded, my eyes went to Jacqueline instantly. Along with the others, she was wearing all the protective gear. They resembled a tribe of mini sumo wrestlers. She looked up and saw me, quickly lowering her lashes and biting her lip, and I was struck with a graphic recollection of the hours we’d spent in my bed. By the looks of her shy grin, so was she.

Emotional distance. Right.

I wished, too late, that I’d outright asked Jacqueline to avoid going up against me. We could practise defences together, but this was different. As the attackers, Ellsworth and I would make audible comments. We would look for openings to attack. We wouldn’t release a ‘victim’ unless a defence blow was adequately delivered – and we’d both been trained to judge that point.

This section of the class was unnerving for me. Pretending to be a sexual predator always made me crave a scalding hot shower after.

As soon as the women finished reviewing moves with Watts, they’d be ready to do what Jacqueline told me her friend Erin termed serious junk kicking.

‘She’s only excited because she can practise doing it and not hurt you guys, because of the padding,’ she said as we dressed so I could take her back to the dorm late Thursday night.

‘Uh-huh,’ I said deadpan, and she laughed.