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“How about I make dinner for you tonight?” he asked.
She lifted an eyebrow. “You can cook?”
“Better than microwaved mac and cheese.” He surreptitiously patted her hip before going to open his briefcase.
The tension in his chest eased as they fell into their compatible teaching routine. He didn’t often consider the passage of time, but every minute of the next week flew by faster than he wanted it to.
Because Grace had rehearsal after school, he got into the habit of shopping for dinner and going to Title Wave to peruse the books. Sometimes he and Sam even talked about new authors, summer plans, or town events.
On Friday, he locked up the classroom after Grace left for the auditorium. As he started toward the school’s front doors, he caught sight of Grace’s student Katie hovering at the corner of a bank of lockers.
He headed in her direction with the intention of telling her about the talk he was doing at the library—in the event that her father might want to attend.
As he neared, he overheard her speaking to someone who stood around the corner. “I feel terrible, but I’m so slammed right now. Track and field, the orchestra competition, finals…there’s just so much. I don’t have time, and I’m completely freaked out that my grade in her class will screw up my GPA.”
“I get it,” a young man responded. “Don’t worry, I’ll have it done by next Wednesday.”
Todd Oliver.
Lincoln paused and edged partway behind an open classroom door.
“She gave me an A on that last essay you did for me. Did I tell you that?” Katie smiled as Todd stepped forward to kiss her. “I wish you’d stop sandbagging her class.”
“I’m getting an A, aren’t I?” He grinned and chucked her under the chin. “For you, at least.”
“You’re the best.” She glanced at her phone. “I gotta go. I’m already late for practice.”
With another kiss, she rushed off toward the auditorium.
Lincoln strode around the corner. Todd was pulling books from his locker.
The boy startled. “You want something?”
“Yeah. I want to know why you’re sandbagging Grace Berry’s class.”
Todd’s eyes widened before he turned away to shove the books into his backpack. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re writing Katie’s final paper for her?” Lincoln barely resisted grabbing the kid’s shirt and giving him a shake. “How much of her other work have you done?”
“Man, you must be speaking Chinese or something because I’m not getting any of what you’re saying.” Todd zipped up his backpack sharply. “I gotta go.”
“No way.” Lincoln stepped in front of the boy to barricade him against the lockers. “You’re purposely failing Miss Berry’s class, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Then why are you doing Katie’s work instead of your own?”
“I’m not.”
“That’s not what she said.”
Todd’s eyes flew to his. “She told you?”
“No. You just did.”
Lincoln watched the boy’s expression shift from defiance to outright fear. A sudden understanding began fitting together in his mind.
Grace had told him Todd was doing well in his other classes, which made it all the more frustrating and incomprehensible for her that he refused to make even the slightest effort in her class. And while she suspected that one of the other teachers might be “helping” Todd’s grade, she couldn’t believe the others—in science, history, math, and art—would cave to the pressure of letting a star athlete slide by.
