“Maybe. But I’m willing to do so.”
A silence settled over the room, but McCabe eventually stood again. He turned his back and pulled a file from a neatly organized rack, night and day compared to Cass’s office. McCabe removed a sheet and bent over his desk, filing in various blank spaces with a pen.
He slid it over and stared at me. “I need your signature saying you’re allowing Hansen to join the class this late in the year.”
“Of course.”
“I will also need the signature of his tutor and the signature of his math teacher. If he cannot find a tutor or his math teacher declines this setup, then no comp class.”
I stepped forward and signed the sheet before passing it to Alan. “Get all that?” I asked.
He quickly nodded, taking the form. “Yes.”
I thanked McCabe, who grunted more than anything in response, and stepped out of the office with Alan.
“See what I mean?” Alan asked once we were in the hall. “He’s so—”
I shook my head.
Alan caught himself and instead said, “Thanks for talking with him. Even though he probably hates you too now.”
“Let’s hope not,” I said lightly, although, yeah, I definitely wasn’t on McCabe’s Top Ten list at the moment.
Alan gave me a big smile. “See you in class.”
I watched him head in the opposite direction before I made for the band room.
Stephen was stepping out of the faculty break room as I passed by. “Morning,” he called.
“Oh, hey, Stephen.” I opened the door to my class and leaned in far enough to flick the light switch. “Is the coffee machine working now?” I asked, nodding my chin at the steaming cup in his hand.
“On and off,” he replied. “Took sacrificing three K-Cups to the Keurig God and donating a fiver to the coffee fund because I felt bad.”
I laughed. “Why not bring some from home?”
“You seem to think that I must get up early in order for this whole thing to happen,” he said, motioning to himself. “I have no time to make coffee. Every morning is a race against the clock.”
“And yet here you are, always suave and dapper,” I answered.
“I was born with it.” Stephen winked and took a sip of coffee. “No cello today?”
“I like to switch it up.”
“Should I expect a french horn next?”
“Sadly, one of the few I don’t own.”
Stephen chuckled. “How was your date?” he asked next, voice low despite the empty hall.
I immediately smiled and stepped to the side, allowing him to enter the band room first. “It was good,” I said, following after Stephen.
“And I’m guessing by that goofy grin you’re sporting, there’s a part two in your future?”
I set my belongings down beside the piano and turned to Stephen as I began taking off my coat and scarf. “Yeah. Nothing set in stone yet, but there’s definitely going to be a follow-up.”
“I’m happy for you, then.”
“Thanks.”
