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A chorus of, “Let her stay!” follows.
The principal’s forehead creases. She lifts a hand and says with impatience, “Silence.”
“Please, Mrs. Nieddo! Please let her stay!”
She heaves a frustrated sigh. “Oh, all right.” Raising a finger, she adds, “But only this once. As an exception.”
I smile sweetly at Roch, who resembles a fuming dragon. “Thank you.”
“Get on with it then,” the principal says, pulling her back straight as she leaves.
I sit down in a vacant chair next to Johan. He shifts his seat an inch away, glowering at the book that lies open in front of him.
“Here,” a girl on the left whispers, handing me a piece of paper and a pencil with a smile. “You can borrow mine.”
Roch walks with stilted steps to the front and picks up the textbook on his desk. The lesson resumes in a much calmer fashion with the children stealing curious glances at me.
When the bell rings to announce the end of the class, excited chatter erupts as the kids pack away their books. I return the pencil to my neighbor and thank her for her kindness. Johan is taking his time to gather his stationery, waiting for everyone to file past. The classroom is almost empty when he finally gets to his feet. Only the girl in the tweed jacket and three others who sat in the back are left.
I stand when the rude girl is about to pass next to us. Giving her a stern look, I say, “Don’t speak about Johan like that again, or I’ll have a word with your parents.”
She scurries around me, not looking back as she leaves the room.
Johan swings his bag over his shoulder. I’ve taken two steps toward Roch’s desk when he speaks. “Sabella?”
I stop and turn to look at him.
“Thank you,” he says with a crooked smile before charging past me and through the door.
Roch purses his lips and gives me his back to wipe the blackboard clean. He only faces me again when the last kid has cleared the room.
I raise a brow. “Teaching, huh?”
“I was a teacher before I worked for your husband.”
“Well, knock me down with a feather.”
“What?” He sounds offended. “What’s wrong with being a teacher?”
“Nothing.” I grin. “You just don’t fit the profile.”
He scoffs. “I happen to like it.”
“Why did you quit?”
“Money,” he says matter-of-factly.
“And now?”
“The pay is way less than the money I earned babysitting your sorry ass, but I’m thinking of settling down.”
I can’t resist teasing him. “Does someone have a girlfriend in town?”
His face turns tomato red.
“Oh my God.” I laugh. “You’ve really got it bad.”
He snorts and straightens his books.
