My Experiences As a Teacher
I got this job at a community high school in Downtown, Illinois. I’m not
sure if it was my dream job, but I am sure I have always wanted to be a teacher. I was 23
when I got the job, and I had sincerely hoped that the sky would be my starting point. I had
hoped so because I was raised by parents who were outstanding teachers. My parents were given
numerous awards, and they were greatly celebrated by their students for meritorious services.
Those moments were proud moments for me, and I remember how I used to feel privileged to
have been birthed by such dedicated individuals. Growing up, my parents motivated me to venture
into the teaching profession. And I remembered how my mother encouraged me to go for it if I wanted
to. In her words, ‘Teaching is a noble profession, and if you want to feel noble, be a teacher!
I remember how most of my friends looked at me weirdly for wanting to be a teacher. I
remember how I was counseled to reconsider my decision because medical science and
STEM courses were the most popular. And I almost reconsidered my dreams of becoming a
teacher. You know the feelings of uncertainty and fear that come with the teenage years.
Years later, against all odds and discouragements, I graduated college, and I got a space in the
teaching profession. I got my first job in a public school, and I smiled from ear to ear on my
first week. Do you know that goofiness that swells in your belly when you finally tick one of your
goals in life? That was exactly what I felt and more. However, I realized that I had spent years
preparing myself as a teacher and not preparing myself for the realities of such a delicate job.
One of the realities that hit me like a tidal wave was when a student spoke to me rudely. You know,
I was so shocked that I stood transfixed for a few minutes. I stood staring deeply at her,
wanting to remember what could have pushed her to tell me to fu*k off. I was wondering if
a student was meant to use the ‘f’ word in the school’s environment or if a student was even
meant to use such a word at a teacher at all. I had asked everyone to turn in their assignments
as expected, but she insisted that she didn’t do hers in a very wrong tone if I must say. Further
probing into the issue got me the word ‘fuck off’. To make it worse, other students in the class
joined in to laugh at me. I remember being so angry that I got all of them punished severely.
If only I knew I had set myself up for drags, maybe I would have threaded with a bit of
caution. The next time I got into the class, I could see that most of the students wore faces
that portrayed dissatisfaction and contempt. I didn’t know why, but I was sure whatever mask
they wore on their faces was none of my business. I asked for their assignments, and only two
students turned in theirs. I think my eyes became bloodshot and heavy. I could sense that
there was a conspiracy somewhere, which I knew I didn’t deserve in any way. I was a new teacher who
was trying to build on a career that I had thought would bring me so much peace and fulfillment.
I felt a huge sense of discouragement as I stood before the class, wondering what action I
would take. I stormed out of the class and headed to the principal’s office, but along
the way, I changed my mind. I couldn’t see any sense in trying to report almost an entire
class when I was barely two weeks old at the school. Looking back at my unwillingness to
inform the school’s principal was one of my biggest undoings at that time. Even though I
had so much power, I gave it up out of fear. After that scenario, I was able to
restore calm and balance in the class, thanks to the professional teaching
methods I had learned in college. However, I still had to contend with my biggest nightmare
at that school. This girl, let’s call her A, was the boldest and most populous girl in the school.
She was the one who recruited others to boycott my assignments in my first few weeks at the school.
Later, I also learned that her parents were one of the richest in the school, and she was known to be
one of the students who threw parties at random, traveled to exotic places around
the world, and displayed a large followership on Instagram. I later learned
that she was a powerful queen bee who only attended school at the insistence of her parents.
Now, the problem lay in the reality that A didn’t like the school, and she was bent on ensuring
that anyone, teachers included, who was going to compel her to be serious would be used as a
scapegoat. As much as I knew that I was going to be one of the recipients of that anger, I was
determined not to be humiliated without a fight. To be honest, it was a difficult period
for me, and I had to confide in my mother, I was thankful for her warm guidance and how
she provided me with a shoulder to lean on. Then, I remember a time I got reported to the
school’s management by a group of students who claimed I verbally abused them in class.
It was a serious allegation at the time, and I had to look for ways to exonerate
myself. Meanwhile, I only tried to caution the students who weren’t attentive in my class.
I didn’t know why it was so, but I realized that students were given so much more power than
was necessary, and I think that gave them so many wings to misbehave when they wanted to.
Although there were days I had good days too, days where I felt safe and in good climes, And
when I thought I had recruited so many enemies, I was happy to have found friendship in some
students. One of them, let’s call her B, was the reason why I didn’t give up before I even started.
She was smart and wise beyond her years. She made me understand I wasn’t the first teacher who would
have a hard time in the school. Also, I learned that some teachers had been suspended unjustly
in the past, sometimes due to false allegations. I was surprised to hear that the school, which
was meant to protect teachers, was giving up its powers to the children they were meant to
guide. I became furious, and I was determined to put an end to such a menace because, as far
as I was concerned, that shouldn’t continue.
Along the line, A, who had made sure I had
difficult times in the school, decided to vie for the position of prefect in the school. As
such, she needed the support of a lot of people, teachers included. However, in the blink
of an eye, she had gotten the endorsement of several teachers who initially told me her
guts irritated them. I don’t think I was keen on impeding anyone’s success, but I hated it
when people refused to call me a spade-a-spade. I made it clear that I would not endorse
a student who was unruly, obnoxious, and unwilling to learn. I was surprised that I
was one of the few teachers who stood her ground regarding my decision not to endorse a girl I
knew didn’t have the right leadership traits. As expected, A was determined to lead at
all costs, and anyone who stood on that path was her enemy. But much to my chagrin, she
earmarked me as a major hindrance to her goals. And while I was expecting her to release
her venom as usual, I was surprised that she suddenly flipped the script on me. First,
she became dutiful, respectful, and attentive in class. She even cautioned her classmates,
because, of course, she was the queen bee. I was well aware that she only pulled that up
to buy my support, but I knew that my support couldn’t be bought so cheaply. As an adult, I was
smarter. I played along so well, and I used the opportunity to help her improve academically;
at least I knew that I owed her such support. After a while, A asked me if I was ready to
endorse her ‘political ambition’. I looked at her, and I smiled widely. That was the first time I
smiled with A in such a manner, not that we’ve had any reason to smile at each other in such a way.
I told her I was going to endorse whomever I wanted, and I had no intention to allow myself
to be coerced to do otherwise. She looked at me more with disdain and displeasure, and I wasn’t
surprised when she went back to who she was, and even worse, after I made it clear that my
loyalty couldn’t be bought with fake gestures. Well, I wasn’t the only teacher who failed to
endorse her, but I was the newest teacher. I guess that was the reason why I was dragged
so much around the school. It was more like a situation of ‘you are new; you ought to mellow
and observe who calls the shots here’. It was funny how I was expected to stand back and watch
disrespect, irresponsibility, and a lazy attitude toward schoolwork thrive all because I was new
and young. And to top it all off, I was just as slender and fragile as the students I thought.
Although I had made up my mind not to overlook any misdemeanor again, even though I told myself that
I would tread with caution. Eventually, A’s class was given coursework that entailed a presentation.
The class was sectioned into several groups to enable a seamless presentation. Subsequently,
all the groups presented except A’s group. I remember that I made it clear that not every
member of the group was expected to speak, but as expected, everyone was mandated to contribute
effectively. But I was surprised that A’s group, which was the last group, refused to provide
any representative to speak on their behalf.
They were given the floor, and they were even
urged to come forth with their presentation, but none of them obliged. I was shocked to
have witnessed such unruly behavior from the students because the presentation was allotted
20 marks, and I wondered if 20 marks were not important. Well, after they made it clear that
they had nothing to present, I was not obligated to force them to. They had done their part, and
it was left for me to decide how to do my part. I wasn’t surprised when A and her followers failed
at the end of the term—all of them! They obviously couldn’t meet the required score for a pass mark,
and I was in no way lenient in my assessments. When A and her subordinates saw that I could
also match their energy, they reached out to the school’s management, and I wasn’t surprised when
I heard the false allegations leveled against me. I told my part of the story to the management, and
I made it clear that if the right measures were not taken to curb the excesses of the students,
I would take it further to the school board. I could see that the principal saw that
I was not bluffing. A and her followers were thoroughly examined and were told to retake
the school year or get indefinitely suspended. The next day, after the management had
disclosed its decision on the matter, A passed by me, and I could see
a mask of defeat on her face. I smiled, having realized that I had
championed equality in my little way. The worst place I’ve ever worked in my entire life
was a convenience store. I know the trend where people keep talking about the toxic workplace in
the corporate setting, where the boss abuses his or her workers, but I’m telling you, that’s not
the worst environment to work in. Come work at a convenience store and you’ll know what I’m saying.
Aside from the gruesome work you’d be doing for minimum wage, and the constant yelling and insults
you’d get from your boss, you still have to face the customers, who most times turn out to be huge
jerks. But no matter how bad they are to you, you’re required to treat them with love and
respect. The same love and respect that they’ll only take for granted and never reciprocate.
The first time I decided to get a job in a convenience store, I was in my freshman year of
college. I was there on scholarship, as my parents couldn’t afford to send me themselves. Not only
were they not able to afford my tuition, they were finding it difficult to consistently send me an
allowance. I couldn’t blame them, I was the second child of four, and my dad was doing really well
before a recession hit the country and he lost his job. Things hadn’t been the same ever since then,
and I could see that he was trying to provide for the rest of my siblings so I had to cut him some
slack. I tried rationing the allowance he used to send me. I’d stretch it out to last a specific
period of time, but with the exorbitant prices of things in school, my rationing plan never
worked out well, and I always went hungry. A few weeks into college, I made a friend. Let’s
call him Alex(21M). Alex had wealthy parents and he always had more stuff than he needed, so when
we started hanging out, he gave me all of that extra stuff, and I was good for a time.
But eventually, I started to become dependent on Alex for survival, and he knew it. I guess that
was why he started behaving in a type of way. He started to talk crap about me to my face and
behind my back. Whenever we were with our group of friends, he usually said things that were aimed
at making me look and feel small. He insulted me at every chance he got and felt like I couldn’t do
anything because my survival in college was mostly dependent on him. But the thing about me was that
I never let my background dictate my self-worth, so when he started to treat me this way, I told
him off and broke off our friendship. It was a decision that cost me dearly because I had to
go back to depending on my parents for survival. One day, one of the guys from my friend group,
Jamie(22M) came over to see me. He hadn’t seen me in a while since I never showed up to Alex’s
apartment, where we all used to gather. I told him everything that transpired between us, and
he understood my perspective. Then I told him about the financial struggles I was facing and
how it was getting difficult to stay in college. He asked me why I couldn’t get a part-time job.
I couldn’t say I hadn’t thought about it before, but I didn’t want anything to distract me from
my education, as it was the sole purpose of being there. Besides, my scholarship was hinged on
me getting good grades, and if for some reason, my performance dropped, I would lose the
scholarship and I’d have to drop out. Jamie told me not to worry because that was why it was
called part-time. I could discuss my concerns with anyone willing to employ me and we’d be able to
compromise. I listened to him and went around campus, looking for where I could work. I got a
few offers, but none of them were accommodating to the time frame I could work, so I had to extend my
search to outside the school campus. It was hard and I wanted to give up at some point, but
eventually, I got a job at a convenience store just outside the school campus. The manager, Mr
William, (50M) seemed nice and was willing to work with my hours. The pay was less than average, but
at least it was more than nothing, so I took it. Just three weeks into the new job, I was
already starting to regret all the decisions I made that led me there. Working as a cashier in a
convenience store was more hectic than I imagined, especially during the rush hours. I had
customers clamoring around me, wanting their goods checked and bagged. I only had two hands
and could only attend to one customer at once, but those customers didn’t seem to understand
that. Some impatient ones yelled at me to work faster while some rude ones called me all sorts
of names. That period of my life was one of the most traumatizing. I couldn’t complain
because I needed the job, and Mr. William, who seemed like a saint when he offered me the
job, was actually the devil’s spawn. He insulted me whenever I did something wrong, and whenever
I tried to take a leave off work, he declined my request. He knew how badly I needed the job,
and he was using it against me. By that time, I had already gotten used to earning my own money,
so quitting would have been a major inconvenience. Besides, my parents had stopped sending me an
allowance when I told them I had gotten a job. I couldn’t go back to burdening them with my
problems, so I sucked it up and kept working. The only thing that made working in that
store a bit bearable was the fact that my co-workers were friendly. I made two friends,
Lee(22M) and Sam(19M). They were from similar backgrounds and they understood what I
was facing. We kept each other company, and most of all, we kept each other sane.
But my newfound balance didn’t last very long. One day, after a very long evening rush, I finally
sat down on the stool to look through the sales record and make sure I didn’t make any mistakes. I
heard someone yelling in one of the aisles, but I couldn’t pay attention because I was engrossed in
the record I was looking through. After a moment, someone slammed the counter and I sat up in shock.
I saw a woman, probably a few years older than me, standing in front of the counter. She dropped her
stuff rudely on the counter, staring at me as I stared back. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with
another rude customer, so I started to ring all her goods. When I was done, I told her the price
and she stared at me as if I had just grown a new head. She looked at the price on the screen and
accused me of double-pricing some of the things she bought. I stared at her in surprise because
she was right there when I was doing it, and she saw with her own two eyes that I didn’t ring
anything twice. I tried to explain to her that she was wrong, but she only yelled that I was trying
to scam her. She even asked for the manager, but luckily, he wasn’t around. Eventually, I agreed to
redo the pricing, and when I was done, the price was still the same. This time though, she didn’t
object. She paid for her stuff and left. Once she walked out, Lee came to the counter and told me
how she yelled at him for handing her the wrong type of scented candle, instead of the one she
asked for. He said she behaved like that because her dad or whoever was sponsoring her was rich.
She had an expensive McLaren which she parked in front of the store whenever she came around. I
hoped never to see her again, but it turned out that she was a regular customer. She came back
two days later and as she walked in, she glanced at me and said “Wow, they haven’t fired you yet?”
The way she treated me was very annoying, and it was crazy because she didn’t know me before. She
dropped some things on the counter and while I was about to ring it, she told me not to, because she
wasn’t done shopping. She took a while to get all the things she needed, and I already had a line of
customers I was attending to. When she got back, she walked past the line dropped the rest of her
stuff on the counter, and told me she was ready. I couldn’t attend to her and leave the rest of
the customers on the line, so I told her she had to join the queue. She started to yell that
she was there first and I had to attend to her, but the other customers weren’t having it. The
issue turned out to be a huge commotion and the manager had to step in. While he talked to
her, I quickly attended to the other customers before ringing her stuff and packing it. She was
still pissed that I attended to her last and she threw the cash on the ground as she walked out.
I thought that was the end of it, till she came back the next week. This time, she bought way
more stuff than she used to and dropped it on the counter. Next, she pulled out her phone from
her pocket and walked away to “receive” a call. When I was done, ringing and bagging her stuff,
she came back and feigned surprise at the price of what she bought. Then, as usual, she told me
to redo the calculations, which I started to do. But halfway through, she stopped me and picked up
a bottle of expensive wine and claimed that she didn’t buy that. She went on to call me a thief
because I was trying to hike her bill. I tried to explain in my calmest tone possible that I didn’t
make a mistake and she actually brought it to the counter, but she denied it. She even went as far
as calling the manager and asking him to fire me. When he heard the full story, Mr William took her
side and I got fired. I couldn’t believe it. I lost my job over some crazy Karen, who relished
bullying me. It hurt so bad because even though I hated the job, I needed it to survive. My
ex-coworkers came to see me that night and we talked about the incident. After cheering me up,
Lee decided that we had to teach her a lesson. He wanted us to key her car, but I thought we could
do more than that. I wanted to destroy the car completely. She made me lose my job, she
had to pay for it dearly. That same night, we hatched our plan. We knew that she only
came at night, so Kim decided to work only the morning shifts, so he’d be free at night. Sam,
on the other hand, stayed on the night shift, so he could alert us when she was around. I had
a bike that I used to commute to work every day, so I painted it black so no one would recognize
it. A few days later, Sam called me and said she was around. I called Lee, and we rode to the
store. We had black clothes and ski masks on, so no one would recognize us. We snuck by the store
so no one from inside would see us. Soon enough, we got to the sleek gray McLaren. I brought
with me a steel bat and a bottle of Molotov cocktail. Lee stayed on the lookout. It was an
open street with a lot of on-lookers so we had to act fast. I started by tearing her tires with
a screwdriver I borrowed from a roommate. Next, I bashed her windows with the steel bat before
lighting the Molotov cocktail. By this time, the car alarm had gone off and it called her
attention from the store. She screamed and ran over to us, but she wasn’t fast enough to stop
me from dropping the cocktail in the car seat. I got on my bike and cycled away, watching as
the car went up in flames. Lee also escaped on his own bike and we parted ways in case we were
being followed. The paint I used on the bike was temporary, so as soon as I got back to the hostel,
I wiped it off and discarded all the tools I used. A few days later, Lee and Sam told me she tried to
get the police involved, but they didn’t have any leads to go on, no one saw our faces, and Lee and
Sam didn’t have motive so they were not suspected, besides, Sam was at work when it happens. They
eventually closed the case and I went scot-free. The first day Mom formally introduced Dave(46M)
to the family, was what I(19M) like to call the beginning of the end. I think of myself as a good
judge of character and when I saw him, I knew that he wasn’t all he was posing to be. But my mom
had been alone for over two years before that, so I couldn’t take that away from her.
When my parents were still together, they fought a lot, about everything. It ranged
from unserious bickering to full-on yelling and name-calling. When I was a lot younger, it
was very different. They were in love. Or at least that was what it looked like to my young
innocent mind. But as I and my younger sister, Lily grew up, things started to change. The warmth
that once reigned in our house disappeared and was replaced with something else. My parents argued
every day. It never stopped, it only escalated to dangerous levels. After some time, they decided
to seek counseling, and for a time, it looked like they were actually getting better. They were
putting more effort into communicating and going out on dates and all those other things. But it
didn’t last very long. One day, while I was at a friend’s place, playing video games, I received
an emergency call from my sister asking me to come home immediately, and so I did. Imagine my
surprise when I found my mom and dad in an all-out fight. I’m talking yelling and throwing stuff.
I’ve never seen them like this before, but I soon learned the reason for their fight. Apparently,
Mom had found out that Dad was cheating on her with his secretary from work. Typical.
I guess she’d always had her suspicions, because that day, she left the house just
minutes after he did and tailed him to a motel where he went to see her.
Long story short, she caught him, they fought and he moved out of the house.
The divorce case was something else, because they both wanted custody of us, and they both
fought for it as hard as they could. Eventually, the judge ruled that we were to stay with
Mom, and we visited Dad during the weekends. Mom threw herself into work. She told
herself that she was trying to focus on her career as an attorney, but that wasn’t
true. She just wanted to fill the hole Dad left with work. I understood that perfectly.
Within a year, Dad was engaged to his secretary, who was already pregnant, but Mom was still
working full-time. The only upside to this was that she got promoted, which only meant
that we got to see her less and less. And on the rare times when she wasn’t working, she’d
be in her room, crying or drinking herself to sleep. It took a year and six months for her
to pick herself up and start dating again, but even then, it wasn’t anything serious. The
wound of being cheated on never fully healed, so, it was difficult to trust other people.
But two years later, there she was inviting a man into our home, and introducing
him to us as her new boyfriend. Dave was handsome, he was a real looker and had a
nice body. Mom said he was a fitness instructor. He was funny too, and really charismatic. I
could immediately see why she liked him. But I know people. Some would call me a natural-born
psychologist. I knew how to read people, and when I asked him some questions about family and stuff,
his reaction gave me the hint that he was hiding something, but I didn’t press further. Mom was
happy. I wasn’t about to ruin that. After he left, we all had a family discussion and Mom told us
about how they met. Her firm had a meeting with a new client and she was supposed to take point in
leading the proposal meeting. She was supposed to meet the client in a three-star restaurant, and
when she got there, she sat at the wrong table, where Dave was seated. After pitching
to him for a total of fifteen minutes, he finally told her that he wasn’t who she
thought he was. Apparently, her prospects were running late. She apologized, but Dave told
her to have a drink with him. They hit it off and he collected her number. Then they started to go
out. At that point, Mom really liked him already, so it was difficult to air my skepticism.
I decided to keep an eye on him by myself. I soon noticed some more weird signs whenever
from Dave. whenever he was around and Mom wasn’t looking, he was always texting on his phone. It
was so frequent, and I know a fitness instructor doesn’t have to be on his phone all the time like
that, and since mom said he didn’t have kids, I wondered who he could be texting so frequently.
But that was not all. Whenever he had to put the phone down, he always turned the screen face
down. That was a typical move for someone who had something to hide. But that wasn’t
enough evidence to bring to my mom, so I waited. A few weeks down the line, I came to a
realization. When he was about to leave our house, he kissed my mom goodbye and left. He had never
offered for my mom to stay over at his place, nor had he invited us over. I asked my mom
about this, and she said it was because he had roommates. The house he stayed in was very
expensive, and so he couldn’t afford to stay alone. I asked if he told her this himself, and
she said yes. I further asked if she had been to his house just once, and she said no. She was
starting to get suspicious of my questioning, so I backed off. The next time he came over,
I pretended to be very sleepy after dinner, and I went up to my room. I watched from my
window, till I saw him leave. Then I locked my door and climbed down my window. I got on my
bike and tailed his car. I made sure to put on my hoodie and keep a safe distance between us, so
he wouldn’t know he was being followed. We finally got to his place and he was right. The house
looked expensive. But as soon as he parked in the driveway, a woman walked out of the house. He
forgot to mention that his “roommate” was a woman. I wanted to tell Mom what I had seen, but it was
quite difficult to explain that I snuck out of the house to follow him. I had to be sure that I
had something or I would be grounded for life. A few days later, I told my mom I was going to
a friend’s, but instead, I staked out Dave’s house. I stayed there for some hours, even when he
left. Eventually, the woman left the house and I followed her. She worked at the gym as a fitness
instructor, which made me think that maybe he was telling the truth and they were just roommates.
But something wasn’t adding up. If they were platonic as we all think, why didn’t he let my mom
meet him, or why hadn’t he ever invited her over? This time, I decided to hear from Dave himself.
One evening, while we were all having dinner, I asked him why we never came to his house. He
gave me the same roommate story he gave my mom, but I didn’t give up there. I asked about his
roommate and what the person does. I could tell that he was uneasy, and it took him a while to
answer and when he did, he spoke in a way that didn’t give away the gender of the roommate.
I was counting on the fact that he’d slip up, and since he didn’t, I had to ask him directly.
“Is your roommate a man or a woman?” That question almost made him choke on his
food. Mom laughed it off and asked me what sort of question that was. She said of course his
roommate is a guy, but I looked at him waiting for him to answer the question. When he did, he
lied to my face and said it was a guy. He said he was an undergrad law student and he was a huge
slob, which was why he never invited us over. That night, when he left, Mom asked me why I asked
the weird question, and I said it was because he was lying. He had a woman living with him and that
was the real reason why he had never invited her over. As expected, she didn’t believe me. I
told her how I followed him that other night, but she still thought I was making it up. She
even went as far as making up excuses for him. She said it was possible that I got it all wrong,
and the lady came to see his roommate and not him. It took a lot, but I finally convinced her to
test that theory with me. I told her to invite him over and stall him in any way she could.
At that time, I went out to the gym where his roommate worked. I posed as though I came to
register for a membership, and I went directly to her and said Dave referred me. She believed me
at once and introduced herself as Brienne. Before we started talking, I put my phone on record,
so Dave wouldn’t be able to deny anything. When we started a light workout, I asked
her how she knew Dave, and as expected, she said he was her boyfriend. I feigned surprise
and told her that was impossible because he was dating my mom. She laughed it off, thinking I
was joking, but I went on my phone and showed her the pictures I took of them. Her face said
it all. She didn’t know Dave was cheating on her, neither did my mom. I went home immediately and
showed my mom the evidence I got from Brienne. Dave tried to manipulate and talk his way out
of it, but my mom was not having it. She kicked him out of our house and he left. My mom was
in terrible shape after that breakup. I can understand her though. My dad cheated on her the
first time and after two years of being single, she tried dating again, and she still got cheated
on. It really hurt me to see her beaten up like that and I vowed that I was going to help her get
revenge on him. A few days later, I got word that Brienne left him and moved out of the house. That
was when I got the perfect idea to get my revenge. Dave usually stayed out late because he had other
clients he attended to, aside from the ones in the gym. That makes his house pretty much empty most
of the time. I took some time to stake out his house and learn his schedule. Then I realized that
he had a client he worked with on Saturday night for over two hours. The next Saturday, I came to
his house with a gallon of gasoline when he wasn’t around. I picked the lock and let myself in. I
had a mask on, in case he had cameras around the house. Then I poured the gas all over his couch
and curtains before moving into the kitchen and rooms. When I was done, I got to a safe distance
before lighting the matches and watching it burn. Then I went him before the neighbors noticed the
smoke. The next day, we got the news that his house burnt to the ground, but no one saw who did
it. Dave pointed fingers at Brienne and my mom, but they both had alibis as they were at work
when it happened. The house was not insured, and the landlord sued Dave for negligence and
pushed that he pay the entire sum for the repairs. I don’t know the outcome of the case, but I don’t
care, as long as Dave has a shitty next few years.
