#the song for this chapter is STFU! by Rina Sawayama because that song just feels like pure rage to me

[lavendercharm]

Linger, Chapter 3: STFU!

Summary: From the moment you meet her, you can't stand Melissa Schemmenti.

Warnings: VERY Strong Language

----

The next hour flies by as you continue your mission of organizing and decluttering the classroom. You organize stacks of finished worksheets and separate them between their respective grades; group crayons, markers, and pencils by color; and even refill Melissa’s stapler with your own staples, which you feel is generous. In between trips to the trash and recycling bins across the room, you occasionally glance at the half eaten lasagna sitting on your desk. You feel like it’s mocking you, but you can’t bring yourself to throw away one of the most delicious things you’ve ever eaten. Maybe once you’ve extended an olive branch, you’ll be able to enjoy it again.

By the time Melissa returns, you’re nearly done. She finds you surrounded by piles of dead dry-erase markers and empty glue sticks. You’re so invested, you don’t notice her entering the room until her voice startles you, nearly causing you to drop the markers in your hand. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” She demands. 

You try to muster a friendly smile as you turn around, but you’re certain it looks as forced as it feels. You’re surprised to see her alone. “You don’t have the kids with you,” you point out lamely.

“Educator of the year over here with these observational skills,” she snarks. “Other teachers have recess duty. What the hell are you doin’ with my markers?” 

You glance down at the markers clutched in your hand and say, “Oh, I uh… I noticed the room was messy when the kids left, and the cupboards were kind of cluttered, so I was going through them.“

“What, my room isn’t pristine enough for you?” she asks mockingly, folding her arms and leaning on one hip.

You close your eyes briefly and remind yourself that you’re trying to fix things, not make them worse, before opening them again and replying evenly, “No, I just mean that it makes sense with how much you have on your plate-“

“So you’re sayin’ I’m messy and incapable of doing my job?” 

“Stop!” You interject quickly, putting up your hands to placate her. “I’m not trying to insult you! I just wanted to help. A bunch of this stuff was broken or unusable, it was just taking up space so I threw some stuff out-”

“You what?” Her voice has a sharp edge to it. Your hopes for gaining ground with her are out the window - it seems like Melissa is looking for any reason she can find to start a fight with you. 

“I threw some things away,” you manage, your own temper starting to rise. “I don’t see what you’re getting so worked up about.”

She steps toward you, pointing a finger assertively. “You took it upon yourself to go through my classroom supplies and throw things away without asking me. Do you have any idea how expensive new school supplies are?”

“This isn’t my first year in a classroom!” you protest.

“Well, I don’t know what fancy private schools you must have come from to think supplies grow on trees, but it’s your first day at Abbott. We can’t just turn around and buy new stuff whenever we want!” 

“That stuff wasn’t usable! It was junk!” You exclaim. 

“And how will I explain to my kids why half their school supplies are gone now? How entitled can someone be?” she says scathingly.

“God, what’s wrong with you that you call someone trying to help you entitled ,” you spit out. You hear her scoff as you turn your back on her and start gathering the piles of dead markers. You throw them, along with the empty glue sticks, into a container.

“Oh please! What else do you call someone who thinks they can do whatever they want? Goin’ through my stuff without askin’, not to mention strollin’ in late-”

“It was an accident!” You burst out, rounding on her. “God forbid I mess up!”  You bark out a scornful laugh. “You say I’m entitled, have you met yourself ? You think you can walk all over me just because I’m new here and I made a mistake! Hey, since we’re sharing, you’re the most stubborn goddamn woman I’ve ever met! You can’t go two seconds without criticizing something or giving your unwanted opinion. Have you ever thought about taping your big mouth shut?” You deride as you snatch up the bin under one arm and begin to stalk past her toward the trash.

She steps into your path and you nearly collide with her. You look up to meet her fiery gaze, refusing to back down, and as you do, something stirs in your lower belly. You feel your muscles tense, ready for… what, you’re not sure. Her heeled boots give her a fraction of a height advantage over you, so you have to look up slightly. Your faces are inches apart as she stares daggers into your eyes, both of your breaths heavy from frustration and mixing in the air. Her cheeks are flushed and her hazel-green eyes are vivid, and your eyes flit down to steal a glance at her rosy lips for the briefest of moments, before you wrench them back up to her gaze. As your eyes return to hers, she opens her mouth to speak, but something catches her eye, cutting whatever she was going to say short. 

Her brows come together in confusion as she tears her eyes from yours and your heart sinks to your stomach. She saw your gaze drift, she had to have noticed it and that’s why she looks so confused. You’re not sure how to explain it yourself - your eyes were simply wondering, your nerves are frayed, you aren’t in the right headspace. Her face grows even more red, and you brace yourself to be verbally eviscerated as her mouth opens once more. What comes out takes you so off guard that you momentarily forget yourself and the situation you’re in.

“Where did you get that?” she whispers coldly. Her gaze is fixed over your shoulder. 

“Wha- what?” You stutter out, blinking quickly to try and comprehend the sudden, unrelated question.

Her eyes return to you, and you see a fury unmatched by anything she had displayed so far. It’s the first moment you know, without a doubt, that Melissa Schemmenti is someone you should be scared of. She repeats her question in a deadly low voice, biting out the words harshly. “Where. Did. You. Get. That?” Out of your peripheral vision, you see her point to something behind you.

Mustering all of the courage in your body, you look away from the lion that has your head in its jaws and search for what has condemned you to your untimely death. Sitting on your desk, alone and forgotten, is the half eaten slice of lasagna Janine had brought you for lunch. It takes your brain a moment to parse out why Melissa is so infuriated, but you quickly realize what conclusion she’s jumped to.

“Melissa-” you meekly squeak out before the dam breaks and her wrath is unleashed on you in full.

“Keep my first name out of your fuckin’ mouth you self-absorbed rat,” she snarls. “I knew you were selfish and inconsiderate, but I didn’t peg you for a thief. Stealing lunches? How dare you? ” She’s positively foaming at the mouth, and every ounce of anger that made you bold is gone. In its place is a gut-wrenching panic. You feel your heart hammering against your rib-cage and she continues to tear into you. “I knew I didn’t like you for a reason. You waltz in here on your high horse and think you can just do whatever you want. News flash puttana, Abbott doesn’t need you and I certainly don’t need you. You’re not worth the air you’ve been takin’ up in here. All you’ve done is ruin my goddamn day,” she seethes, pausing briefly before exclaiming, “And you’ve got me using salty language at school! The best thing youse could ever hope to do for these kids and me? Get the hell out of my classroom.”

You’re absolutely mortified, the words you’d meant to use to defend yourself evading you. You know it doesn’t matter - nothing you say will convince her. You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You dig deep within yourself, trying to grasp some semblance of dignity as you finally break free of her hateful glare. “Fine,” you muster. You back away from her and move to your desk, quickly gathering your meager belongings and shoving them back into your bag. You keep as much distance from the lasagna as you can, too beaten down to even acknowledge its presence. 

Once your things are gathered, you make your way towards the door. But some thought in the back of your mind gives you pause. You don’t want to go out like this, with your tail between your legs. You don’t want to let this vitriolic woman have the final say. Glancing up, you see Melissa has busied herself with something at her desk, having apparently already written you off. Hesitating, you steel yourself and say, “You know? I’m not so sure your aide has appendicitis. I bet it was an excuse so she didn’t have to work with a judgemental bitch like you.” 

Her head shoots up in a flash of red - you hear an intake of breath and catch sight of her mouth opening - but you’re in the hallway before she can respond, slamming her classroom door a little too hard behind you.

—--------------

“What the hell do you mean you got into a fight with Melissa!?” Ava exclaims across from her desk at you. You sit on the other side of her, feeling more like a student being disciplined than a grown professional reporting to their boss. When you’d arrived, Ava had made you wait outside of her office while she finished an episode of “FBoy Island”. This gave you more than enough time to process what had happened, and the shame nearly overwhelmed you. Never in your life had you lashed out at a colleague like that, especially after having known them for less than 24 hours. 

Expecting to be scolded and fired, you’re surprised when Ava’s next words are, “You could have at least called me girl! My fans would kill to see Melissa in a fight! Although I guess she’s not good like she says, ‘cause you ain’t got a scratch on you. I’m disappointed she didn’t break out her bat,” she mumbles dejectedly. 

You don’t even know where to begin responding to that, so you settle on, “We didn’t fight fight, just said some really nasty things to each other. Also, I don’t have your phone number, so… I actually couldn’t call you.” 

“Oh!” Ava says as if she’s surprised. “Well, we gotta fix that, give me your number so you can tell me next time!”

“There’s not going to be a next time,” you mutter sourly.

“Oh damn, are you quitting?” she replies in a disappointed voice. “You seemed kinda cool standing up to Melissa this morning, I thought for sure you’d last longer than a day.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Uh, no… I mean, I don’t want to quit… well, I kind of do, but then she’d win,” you grumble. “I just thought you’d… I mean, I got into a huge fight with one of Abbott’s most tenured teachers. I thought for sure you’d want to fire me.”

“Fire you?” Ava says incredulously. “This is the most excitement this place has seen in a minute. If you stick around, we could start a teacher fight club!” She shoots you an award winning smile and you can’t help the quirk of your lips at her joke. At least, you think it’s a joke… probably. Ava leans forward, putting on her principal voice as she says, “Look, you’re the first sub we’ve been able to get since the school year started. On top of that, your references and work history make it seem like you’re actually a good teacher.” You give her an incredulous look, because everything you’ve learned about Ava doesn’t point to her ever actually doing her job.

“What?” she says defensively. “I do my research! I’m not gonna let just anybody walk on in here! I don’t need another stalker.” Before you can say anything to that, she barges on. “Listen, you can do whatever you want, but I’m not gonna fire you. Abbott needs you.” Her words, a direct opposition to what Melissa had said to you not even two hours before, warm your heart. You feel tears welling in your eyes, unable to hold them off completely no matter how much you try.

“Ew, don’t start crying,” Ava says, wrinkling her face up. “Or else I will fire you.” 

You can’t help the laugh that bursts out of you, and you catch a self-satisfied smirk on Ava’s face.

“Okay,” you say, wiping your eyes with a smile. “I’ll stay. I’m sure I can avoid Melissa as long as you put me on the opposite end of the school.” 

Your smile drops, though, as Ava says, “Girl, you’re still gonna be in Melissa’s class.” 

“What?” you ask, anxiety beginning to creep into your chest. “Can’t you put me in another room?” 

“Sure, there might be other rooms you could help in, but right now the only person out sick is Ashley,” Ava says flippantly. “And Melissa’s class has the biggest need for a sub, seeing as she’s teaching two grades n’ all.” 

“There has to be something else I can do,” you mutter desperately. 

“Right now, your options are to stick with Melissa’s class, or wait until someone’s out sick. But there’s no guarantee teachers will call out and I dunno about you, but I have bills to pay,” she explains dismissively, and you know the conversation is nearing its end as she turns her attention to her phone. 

You sit there and weigh your options. The last thing you want to do is have to return to Melissa’s classroom and face her again. As much as the kids in her class started to grow on you after just a few hours, this was the worst day you’d had in your entire professional career. And it was entirely due to Melissa Schemmenti. Plus, there was no telling how she’d react to you walking back into her room. Still, Ava had a point: if you weren’t subbing, you weren’t being paid. Your money situation was pretty dire. You needed this job. 

You exhale loudly, before uttering, “Okay. I’ll be back to join Melissa’s class tomorrow. On time,” you add hastily.

“Great!” Ava says, shooting you a smile over the top of her phone. You glance at the clock, seeing it was already nearly the end of the school day, so you wouldn’t be missing much by leaving a bit early. As you get up to leave, Ava says, “Wait!”

You stop in your tracks and turn to her expectantly. 

“Lemme give you my phone number so I can live stream when you and Melissa fight again!”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, and add her to your contacts.

—----------------------

When you make your way out to your car, you feel the weight of the day fully settle on your shoulders. ‘What a mess,’ you think to yourself. Even still, you try to find some resolve. You’re going to need it if you plan to weather Hurricane Schemmenti. 

You come up to your car, which is parked in one of the few visitor’s spots. Your head is down while you dig in your bag for your keys. As you step in front of your car, you feel something crunch beneath your shoe. Frowning, you shift your focus to the pavement. Small, clear granules shimmer in the afternoon sunlight. As you examine more, you see larger shards scattered about. Your jaw clenches as your eyes travel up, up… to the headlights on your car, both of which have been smashed out. 

You stare at the destruction before you, and slowly, a dark feeling starts to fill you. Your pulse pounds in your ears as your teeth grind together, and you start to see red in the corners of your vision. You clutch your keys in a vice grip. You want to hit something, or someone. Of course, you don’t have any proof as to who did this. But you know. And as the dark feeling inside of you grows and grows, you’re already beginning to formulate your revenge. 

‘Okay Schemmenti.  This is war.’