Her smile grew. “You’re allowed.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I answered.
I admittedly felt kind of mean skipping the wait, but no one seemed to mind, so I guess it was a small perk of being a teacher. I bought a sandwich and left the noisy cafeteria. Returning to my hallway, it was tempting to eat in the band room and not deal with awkward small talk, but I seriously needed to meet some other teachers, considering they’d be my coworkers until we all eventually dropped dead.
I opened the door to the teacher’s lounge. Yikes. Funky cheese smell indeed.
“Bowen!” Stephen called from the large table in the center of the room. He was sitting beside a few other teachers, motioning for me to join. He patted the empty seat at his side. “How’s it going?”
“Good. Figured out how the lunch line works,” I answered, sitting down.
“And how’re your up-and-coming musicians?”
“Er—they need some work,” I replied.
Stephen chuckled.
I unwrapped my sandwich and took a bite, nearly gagging immediately. “Uho mah Gerd,” I mumbled around the food.
Stephen offered a napkin like he’d been expecting that response.
I grabbed it and spat the sandwich out. “Fuck, what the…?”
A woman leaned over from Stephen’s left, eyeing me warily. “Oh… you bought the turkey, didn’t you?”
Stephen neatly cut his own sandwich in two and handed me half. “Here. It’s my fault. I should have included on our tour this morning: never order the turkey, meatloaf, or chili.”
For the rest of lunch, Stephen shared his meal with me and went through a laundry list of dos and don’ts that he’d learned the hard way over his twenty years at the high school. Afterward, it was off to Lancaster Elementary School, where I spent the afternoon teaching group lessons to sixth grade trombone and trumpet players, followed by directing their junior high band. I could have gone home after three o’clock, but despite what Cass had said about the Christmas concert at the high school not being important, it damn well was to me, so I headed back after school had been let out. I thought I’d be more productive organizing and preparing the event at work instead of from home, but I still couldn’t get into my office and the safety filters on the internet werejustthis sideof absurd.
“Son of a….” I sat in the library, using one of the computers in front of the glass walls that overlooked the front doors and office.
Someone knocked and broke the deafening silence. I looked over the monitor with a start to see Stephen. He walked to the left and entered through the library doors a minute later.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he stated.
I waved a hand. “No worries.”
“I thought you were with the kiddies in the afternoon?”
“Yeah… well, I found out there’s a concert I have to put on, and seeing as I’m hilariously underprepared, I came back to do some prep.”
“You have an office, you know.”
“The janitors can’t find the key to unlock it.” I turned in my chair to smile up at Stephen. “And so far in my search for sheet music, I’ve been blocked for arts and entertainment, shopping, other, and nudism.”
Stephen smirked and leaned against the desk. “That last one makes me soverycurious about the kind of music you like.”
“I knew a guy who used recordings of him and his boyfriend having sex in his DJ work.”
Stephen smiled wider.
“So… you know—anything can be music,” I hurriedly finished.
“Apparently.”
I looked around the library and covered my mouth. “I keep forgetting I have to censor myself now,” I murmured.
Stephen pulled out the empty chair beside me and sat. “You’ll soon master the art of whisper conversation.” He picked up one of my folders from the desk and held it up to shield our faces from the tables and seats behind us. “Or using strategically placed items to have a private moment.”
