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“Why’s it taking so long?” Lucas, one of my students, groans, from the end of the line.
I fight the urge to smile maniacally. Lucas isn’t just any student. His mother is none other than Karen Zucker. Yep,thatKaren Zucker. He is also the student who had tried to cut off another student’s hair, constantly bickers with the other kids in my class, and generally hides his true feelings behind an attitude that could rival a cartoon villain.
He is standing a few feet away from the other students, and I know it isn’t easy for him to feel so ostracized from everyone. I just have to figure out how to reach him. How to cut through all the chaos and destruction that I see swirling in his eyes every single day.
Throwing on my best teacher smile, I turn to Lucas and hide all the frustration I feel toward his behavior recently. “Until they decide to call us back,” I say cheerfully. “While we wait, why don’t you join Mr. Keller and myself? Together, we can figure out what to do for the sixth-grade winter party.”
Lucas groans again with his shoulders slumped, like he is being punished for having to join us. But I see the light flash in his eyes, even from ten feet away. Determination settles into the pit of my stomach. No matter what happens, I will get through to him. I’ll help break down whatever walls keep him back.
“I know.” I keep going as though it is all part of my master plan. “We can see if any of the other teachers want to add in a student or two to help. Like a party planning committee.” Now I’m just talking out of my ass, but no one else needs to know that.
Chris plays along, having put up with my shenanigans since we were in high school together.
“Oh, yeah.” He smiles mischievously. “That’s what you were talking about last night. I think it’s a great idea. If we could just get a couple more volunteers.”
Every ear in our vicinity is tied to our conversation, unable to turn away. Sixth graders aren’t stupid. No doubt, they’ve already figured out that if they volunteer for a school project, even planning a party, it will get them out of class.
“I can do it.” Hand raised, ponytail exactly the same way it’d been before Lucas had tried to cut it off, Ciara stares at me with the most intense expression I’ve ever seen on her face.
Lucas blanches next to Chris, and everything hits me all at once. I have one of those moments of pure clarity, almost an out of body experience.
Instead of snickering at my realization, I clap my hands together in pretend glee. “Great. Thanks for volunteering Ciara. You and Lucas will be in charge of coming up with ideas for the party. And I’ll bring up the idea of a joint committee this afternoon at the sixth-grade teachers’ meeting.”
There is another chorus of groans from the kids who were hoping to get picked, but I have a feeling that I’ve made the right choice. Ciara Moore, with her dark curls and intense eyes, is just the thing to bring Lucas out of his shell. It doesn’t hurt that she happens to be the most popular girl in class. Her older brother, Henley, brings her to school every day. More often than not, she brings donuts with her, made at the bakery her mother owns.
As the kids go back to talking amongst themselves, Ciara stands next to Lucas with a small smile on her face. I know things are starting to turn in my favor, at least where the sixth-grade problems are concerned.
Turning back to Chris, who watches everything happening with a wry smile, I roll my eyes dramatically.
“So, what did you want, before the busy bodies nosed in?”
“I need a favor,” he comes right out and says it. “And I promise if you pull through for me here, I’ll do all the laundry for a month.”
I hate laundry. Absolutely hate it. Our machine is top loading, and I almost fall in every single time I use it. Chris is hitting me directly in the goods, and he knows it.
He lowers his voice and adds, “Plus, I’ll do all the cooking for two months.”
“You know you don’t need to soften me up to help you bury a body. I’ve told you since you came out to me in sixth grade, I’d help.”
“Funny,” he practically whispers. “My mom is setting me up on a blind date and… I need a chaperone.” Eyes darting around, he makes sure that no one is eavesdropping before continuing. “What if this guy is a serial killer or something? I have terrible taste in men.”
I snicker, leaning into his side to try and keep the kids around us from noticing the hot gossip we are sharing. “Yeah, you do.”
We are both thinking of his last boyfriend, Gio. A trainer at our old gym, Gio had ripped Chris’ heart out of his chest and stomped on it, before running away with a male model.
“You’re gonna owe me more than that.” I know when I had the upper hand in a negotiation, and Chris only proves it a moment later when he starts to nod fervently.
“Anything,” he promises right as the loudspeaker kicks up with the familiar sound of feedback before our principal declares the fire drill over.
“We have time.” Chris falls into step behind me after all my students head toward the building. “It’s not until Sunday night.”
I groan, unable to help myself. “You seriously don’t understand how much it sucks to have plans on a Sunday, especially before school on Monday, do you?”
Students stream around us, and I let them move ahead so that we can continue our conversation in relative quiet. As much quiet as possible for a teacher in the middle of an elementary school, at least. Especially since our elementary school actually combines both the elementary and middle school students in one large compound-like structure.
Chris ignores my question, like he always does. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest again, looking like he is about to work out rather than help students who show up to his office for medical reasons.
“Sunday,” he says shortly. “It’s a deal.”
