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I make my way to my conference with Ryan’s teacher. She does touch on the poor test grade but mentions he’s been much more attentive and motivated overall since joining the hockey team. Well, I guess I can’t argue with results.
Ryan and Tina are completely absorbed in the hoop toss game booth, so I excuse myself to the teacher’s lounge. A handful of faculty are lingering in there, taking a quiet reprieve between being yelled at by overbearing parents worried their third grader won’t get into Harvard. I help myself to a cup of decaf coffee.
“Hey, Melody,”Larson says. He hands me the caramel-flavored powdered creamer. “Here as a parent, I assume?”
I smile tight and nod. “Wish this wasn’t decaf, though.” Even if it is eight at night.
“What’s wrong?” Mrs. Crew asks. She’s a wonderful first-grade teacher, easy to talk to. Everyone loves her.
“Well,” I start and sigh. It’s just her, Larson, and Mr. Phillips, an elderly teacher who has about a dozen photos of his wife on his desk. I can probably safely vent about this here. “I have a stalker.”
Larson chokes on his coffee. Mr. Phillips doesn’t seem to have heard me. Mrs. Crew’s eyes go wide in shock.
“Like astalkerstalker?” she asks. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. “It’s just frustrating. And a little creepy.” I tell them about the encouraging notes and occasional trinkets. “I know it’s not life-threatening, but still. It’s been going on for too long.”
“Do you know who it is?” Larson asks. He sounds incredibly concerned for me.
Mrs. Crew cringes. “Have you called the cops?”
Larson shakes his head. “Cops are useless. They won’t do anything unless you feel threatened. Do you? Feel threatened, I mean.”
“No,” I admit. “I don’t think I’m in any danger. That’s why I haven’t notified the authorities yet. I’m sorry, guys. I just needed to vent. I guess this isn’t that much of a problem after all.”
“Hey,” Larson says, looking me in the eyes. “Let me know if you feel unsafe. I’ll happily walk you to your car after school.”
“Oh, me too,” Mrs. Crew says quickly. “Don’t hesitate.”
“Thank you,” I tell them both. “I’ll keep that in mind.” It certainly does make me feel better about saying something.
“Maybe it’s a kid with a crush,” Mr. Phillips finally pipes up. “When I was a young boy, I had crushes on all the pretty teachers. Of course, that was until I met my sweet Joanna.”
“Awe,” Mrs. Crew croons.
“If that’s the case, it’s better to find out which kid it is so you can tell them it’s inappropriate,” Larson says before taking a long sip of coffee. “But I don’t think any kid here knows how to find your address. Or, wait, if they’re friends with Ryan they would.”
“Or give me jewelry… unless he stole it from his mom. Oh my God, could it actually be a student?” I ask. I hadn’t even considered that. But no, the handwriting is too good. And the notes are too well composed. It has to be an adult.
“Maybe we should hold an assembly!” Larson says. “Little educational seminar on why having a crush on your teacher is inappropriate.”
Mrs. Crew bites her lip and raises an eyebrow. I can practically see the gears turning in her head. She’s contemplating something, but why won’t she say it out loud?
“Melody?”
I jump at the sound of my name coming from the door. I turn to look. It’s Jaromir. How long has he been standing there?
“Yes?”
Jaromir clears his throat and runs his hand over his shirt. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
11
JAROMIR
Ilead her down the hall and around a corner, where I assume no one will be. Nope. Three kids are here, playing some kind of trading card game I don’t pretend to recognize. I consider leading her back through the crowd of parents and down a different hall, but I’m not sure that will even be private.
Better to just get it over with here, I decide. Besides, it’s not like it’s some big secret or anything. Yeah, I’m asking Melody on a date. That’s because I like her. I’m not ashamed of it.
