“Let’s keep this on the down low until I speak with other students and arrange the band accordingly, okay? Hopefully it’ll all be sorted no later than Friday.”
“Sure, yeah.” He smiled wider, finally showing teeth. “Thanks, Mr. Merlin.”
I stood and brought my cello to its case. “Hey. That reminds me.” I turned to look at Alan again. “Why aren’t you in my second period composition class?”
“I had to take a study hall instead.”
“Hadto?”
“Yeah. My advisor said sophomores have to take either a study hall or extracurricular class, like music or art or something.”
“And you’re already in band.”
Alan nodded. “Right. He wouldn’t let me taketwomusic classes. He doesn’t like me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“Language.”
“Sorry.”
I frowned, taking a moment to finish with my instrument. “You don’t want to be in study hall?”
“No. I do my homework athome, where I can actually focus. I suck at math, so while a study hall in theory is smart, I need help. My dad’s really good at algebra and stuff so….” Alan shrugged. “It’s just a waste of time to work here.”
“Maybe I can talk to your advisor, if you really wanted to join the class.”
Alan finished putting his clarinet together. “I dunno. I don’t want to piss him off more.”
“Language.”
“Sorry.”
I SHUTthe lights off to the band room and stepped into the hall. Lunch had just ended, so it was time for me to hit the road to teach at one of the elementary schools. I propped my cello case against the wall, buttoned my winter coat, then unbuttoned it when my phone sang from inside my suit coat.
“Dig your bow tie, Mr. M!” a young man said, walking past with a group of guys that weren’t even my students.
“Huh? Oh, thanks,” I called after them.
But of course, who wouldn’t love it? It was swirly red and white, like a candy cane.
My bow tie gave me a sudden idea.
I had an all caps text from Scarlet, demanding dirty, nasty details about my foray into phone sex, but I ignored it and pulled up my previous chain with Felix.
What’s your favorite color?
“Mr. Merlin.”
An explosion of green told me it was Stephen talking before my ears and brain had a chance to register the voice.
“Stephen!” I said quickly, looking up. “Ah—Mr. Kelly, I mean.” Could I call him Stephen around students?
Stephen was standing in front of me at the band room, his hands in his pockets, and smiling. “Off to teach the little sprouts?”
“That’s right.” I shifted my things around and grabbed the cello. “Listen, about tomorrow—”
