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She sat at her desk, watching Silas read until school opened.
Somehow, she had to pay Killian back, but how? He was in his alpha, chest-thumping mood, so anything she said about paying for the fence went right over his head. She never thought she would love a guy who was so … stubborn about certain things, especially keeping her and Silas safe. It felt good to know she was cherished and protected.
Shrill voices from the hall let her know that her students would be there soon. Silas put his book away and excitedly looked out the door. Today the class would start on a new project. Anne thought it would be fun and challenging for them to make books for younger kids. They would draw and write a story. If it were successful, she could have someone print up soft-cover books that they could distribute to four-year-olds.
The day passed quickly. Anne sat at her desk and took her shoes off. The kids seemed to have extra energy today, and she was more than happy to see them leave.
“Silas, I’m going to run down to Mrs. Eames’s room for a minute. We’ll leave when I get back. Are you okay reading until then?”
He nodded, grabbed a book, and nestled into one of the beanbag chairs. Anne chuckled. His small frame almost disappeared. She could barely see the top of his head.
* * *
Silas was engrossed in the new book about a boy in his fort. He nearly missed hearing footsteps entering the room. Anne was back. Maybe he could jump up and scare her. He scooched farther down and crawled over to the next beanbag chair, preparing to spring up.
He peeked up over the edge. It wasn’t Anne but Mr. Smith, the janitor. Maybe he could scare him, too.
But Mr. Smith wasn’t cleaning. He was rifling through the cubbies and reaching for Silas’s backpack.
No way. Teddy was in it.
What did Mr. Smith want with his backpack?
Silas jumped up and yelled “Boo.”
Mr. Smith startled and stared at him.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Cleaning the cubbies,” replied Mr. Smith. He gave Silas a strange smile. Silas didn’t think Mr. Smith wanted him to know what he was doing. Was he stealing?
Silas walked over to Mr. Smith. “It doesn’t look like you’re cleaning.”
Angry brown eyes stared at him. “You’re a real nosy-rosy. Aren’t you?”
He didn’t know what a nosy-rosy was, but Silas didn’t think it was a nice thing to say.
“I’m just going to take the backpack and leave,” said Mr. Smith. “Go sit down and read.”
What? Did Mr. Smith think he would give up his backpack containing Teddy and his favorite lunchbox just like that? Teddy was all he had from his mother, and Anne gave him the lunchbox.
“No.”
Silas’s stomach was doing odd things, and he hoped he wouldn’t puke. He got really close to Mr. Smith and looked up—and up. He never realized the janitor was so tall and mean-looking. “You can’t have my backpack.”
Suddenly Mr. Smith’s face got really red, and he pushed Silas to the floor. “Stupid kid.”
“What the hell?”
Anne walked in and saw Silas on the floor. “Anne, he pushed me and is trying to steal my backpack.”
She looked over at Mr. Smith. “What’s going on here?”
“What’s going on?” Mr. Smith pulled out a gun and aimed it at Silas. “What’s going on is that I will kill the kid if you two don’t follow directions.”
He glared at Silas. “Now get up off the floor.” He pointed the gun at Anne. “You grab the backpack and the kid. We’re walking out of here. The first person who makes a noise gets it. Understand?”
Silas got up from the floor. Fear and panic gripped him. What could he do? If he yelled, he or Anne could get killed. He sure wasn’t letting Mr. Smith have his backpack.
