Free Indisputable by A. M. Wilson Page A

Ryan getting pissed off at me once again. 
    I’ve never been a relationship girl, even as a young
teen.  I was always too embarrassed of the state of my house, and my mom,
to invite anyone over.  I think I intimidated a lot of the guys my
age.  When I met Wyatt, I had just relocated after leaving my mom’s house
and I was still reeling with the knowledge of her near death and everything
that followed.  He offered me an escape, and our relationship was built on
sex and comfort.  But even when he compliments me, I still see myself as
the image of that scared little girl I used to be when my mom was too busy
doing drugs to care.  Dirty, worthless, unlovable.  Any time someone
tries to get a little too close, I push them away by any means I can. 
Because people can only hurt you when you let them in.  And after over a
year, Wyatt is trying to get dangerously close.
     
    After lunch, my day is smooth sailing up until Mr.
Ryan’s class.  No matter how much confidence I think I have, I hate public
speaking of any sort.  My stomach has been a ball of nerves for the past
half an hour and I haven’t been able to shake the feeling.  Twisted,
tormenting flames burn deep in my gut as I pace the hallway outside his
classroom.  My hands are knotted at my waist, palms damp with
uncontrollable sweat.  Only a few moments.  I just have to say a
couple of words and I’ll be done.  Feeling as though I’m about to cry, and
pissed for bringing this upon myself, I close my eyes, leaning my head against
the cold brick wall. 
    “Tatum?” 
    Why the hell isn’t he in his classroom already? 
The bell rang five minutes ago.  I swallow my sarcasm and bite my tongue
against the smart ass remarks.  I try taking a deep breath to calm myself,
I do, but as I turn to face him, all that comes out is panic.
    “Mr. Ryan, I’m so sorry,” I gush, an uncontrollable
rant bursting forth as if a dam broke. 
    “What’s wrong?” he asks, but I keep going because I
can’t stop myself.
    “Mr. Stephenson wants me to apologize to you in front
of the entire class, but I can’t.  I can’t go in there in front of
everybody.  I’m sorry I acted like a jerk and embarrassed you yesterday,
it was wrong.  I know it was.  But please don’t make me go in there
in front of everybody.”  I’m shaking from nerves, my fingers gripping the
hem of my shirt.  I feel like I can’t breathe as he stands there just
starting at me.
    “Miss Krause, calm down,” he says, approaching me
slowly.  I attempt to take another deep breath as I watch him near
me.  “If it upsets you this much, I won’t make you.  Although maybe I
should.  What you did yesterday was completely over the line.”
    “I know, I know,” I rush, “and I’m really sorry.”
    Mr. Ryan studies me critically, weighing my words
against my behavior, I’m sure.  “Apology accepted, Miss Krause.”
    The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. 
“Okay.”  I can feel some of the anxiety seeping out of my system. 
“Okay….Thank you.”
    He lifts his hand as though he’s going to touch me,
but he thinks better of it.  It falls limply at his side.  “Are you
going to be okay, or do you need to lie down?” he asks gently, eyeing me as if
I’m going to suddenly drop. 
    “I’m okay.  I just need a minute,” I reply,
feeling better with each passing second.  I can’t help but catch his deep
brown eyes watching me curiously, but he doesn’t say anything.  He waits
patiently until my breathing has slowed, and now I feel like an idiot. 
“I’m good.  Let’s go inside.”
    “You sure?” 
    I nod my head. 
    “For the record, I’ll tell Mr. Stephenson I spoke to
you privately and accepted your apology.”
    “Thank you,” I mutter as I follow him inside the
room. 
    I end up with a seat in the very front since I’m the
last student to show up, and Mr. Ryan doesn’t waste any time launching into a
review of linear functions.  My mind is having a hard time