My Psycho Stepson and me

I am curious. 

I am curious about this new stepmother, who is not that much older than me. I was curious why she waved at me while I was inside a girl, why her eyes were so nonchalant when she saw me at dinner, and why my father had his hand in her shirt.

How what he gripped felt like, and if they had done it already. They should have, seeing her in his arms.

I am curious if she bleaches her hair, if her lashes are fake ones, and if she puts makeup on.

How she would teach a lesson, if my father had fucked her, how she would react when she saw me under her students, and why she hadn't screamed when she saw me standing before her bed.

Did they do it? Had he chosen her as the next sacrifice for a love that would never bear fruit? Had he climbed on her body, or had she ridden him like the girl had ridden me yesterday? If they had used the same position, had she been thinking about me doing it?

Was my father so thirsty for a substitute that he couldn't cope even for single night before he started dirtying her?

I really want to know. The way she reacted when I called her 'mother', being so uninterested and nonchalant, while I, who should be the one throwing tantrums at her arrival, was wanting to hear her start talking about whatever just to find out more about her.

But besides saying my name, which affected me in ways I hadn't anticipated, she hadn't spoken. Instead, she put her hand in my father's, letting herself be escorted to the scaffold willingly.

How did my father find her? What was in the boxes? Why was there a stuffed cat inside, and how will she react when she discovers that it was thrown away like trash? 

I wanted to see. I wanted to watch.

So I looked forward to the lesson. My so-called friends had also heard of the new teacher, asking me when I would make a move on her, but I just ignored them.

She was already dirty, having climbed into the bed of my old man. If I ever wanted to fuck her, I would personally cut my dick off first.

I knew exactly why she affected me, and it wasn't some kind of teenager romance, or lust. It was the disbelief that my father was really going such great lengths. Maybe I wanted to understand the magic that had been cast on him, destroying various lives. This whole play was like watching a fly entangled in a web, the spider ready to devour, creeping closer.

When we arrived at the sports field, I instantly spotted her. She was wearing a dress that showed her arms and legs; on the bench by the side was a cardigan. The atmosphere instantly heated up, with all the guys in my class ogling her. 

The girls noticed that as well, and they seemingly felt threatened.

The maids mentioned that her name was Lesly. And Lesly was now standing with a clipboard, reading the attendance.

I waited patiently for her to say my name again—my full name this time. I wanted to hear her say it. I wanted to see her look at me—maybe surprised, maybe shocked, maybe still unfazed. Maybe she would wave at me again, her blue eyes conveying the riddle of what was going through her mind.

Finally, the moment came, and my fists clenched in my pockets when I heard her say it.

"Jude Lennister." 

"Here." I answered; she must have felt my gaze, but she didn't look up.

After finishing, she turned to us students, but she never met my eyes.

"First stretch, then run four rounds, after that, you can either play basketball or soccer." She was clearly uninterested in involving herself with us.

Showcasing a mocking look, a girl stepped forward. She said loudly,

"I have my period, so I'll just watch on the side." Her followers beside her giggling and the boys laughing and joking.

 My eyes whipped to the girl before looking back at Lesly. 

She nodded in understanding, handing over the clipboard.

"Fill in your name. The period-thing only works one time at a month, and you have to run an extra round the next time for missing this one out."

The girl's face crumbled; she apparently wanted to make a scene out of this, the whole class her audience,

"You can't do that; I will get you fired!"

Lesly raised her eyebrows and noted something on the clipboard she took back after the other didn't take it.

Lesly asked her for her name again, but she seemed to already know it.

"What are you doing?" The girl asked with incredulity.

"There are points; for every disrespect against the teacher, you lose one point. Like in Hogwarts." She looked around, and seeing that nobody found that funny or even understood what she meant by it, she sighed and turned back to the girl.

"Your conduct influences your grade, and if you lose too many points you will repeat the year because of physical education – a subject usually even dumb people pass with their eyes closed." Looking back up, she was smirking at the girl, seemingly enjoying the situation.

After telling us again that we should start running, every student took off for the track, obeying her. Lesly sat down on the side, looking on with a smile.

Seeing her eyes at long last meet mine while I walked to the running track, I clenched my hands in my sweatpants yet again. Every time she looked at me, I felt agitated to the max, not knowing what to do with that emotion.

I started to run, curious if I would feel her eyes on me. However, I did not. Not during the run, nor while playing basketball.

When the lesson was over, the brunette came for me for our appointment. Before I could answer, I saw Lesly going in the direction of the cafeteria, lunch break approaching.

"Later." I told the brunette and followed my stepmother in the distance.

My eyes were on her the whole time she was eating, away from all the other teachers in the corner of the room. 

And, I captured easily when the little plate, she had swept her desert off, disappeared in her dress pocket.