AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“He’s good,” I answer with a smile.
“I’m so glad to hear it.” Her grin is big, too big. “I’m assuming you’re seeing Callie? The teacher is gone today, so she got to do everything on her own.”
“How exciting. I’m so proud of her.”
“Oh, me too. I never would have thought teaching would be her passion, but she’s just marvelous at it. I’ll buzz you in.”
“Thank you!”
My heels click-clack down the hall with purpose. I reach the door marked with a colorful Room 102 sign and a parade of paper cutout hands. Without knocking, I nudge it open with my hip and step inside. “Special delivery!”
Two dozen pairs of eyes swivel toward me—excitement sparks like static in the air. Little munchkins abandon their worksheets, crayons rolling onto the floor forgotten as they see the crinkled brown bag in my grip.
“Kids, it looks like we have a surprise visitor,” Callie says from her spot next to a life-size Abraham Lincoln poster, her voice carrying over the buzz.
“Did you bring treats?” A little girl with pigtails and a gap-toothed smile bounces on her toes, her question bouncing off the walls just as energetically.
“Maybe I did.” I wink at Callie, then turn toward the class, reaching into the bag with a flourish. “Who here likes cookies?”
“Me! Me! I do!” They chant, hands shooting up like fireworks.
“Okay, okay,” I laugh, the sound mingling with the clamor of eager voices. “There’s enough for everyone. Alright, line up nice and neat. Miss Callie, would you do the honors?” I hand her the box of cookies, their rich chocolatey aroma mingling with the tang of markers and glue. For a moment, my heart squeezes tight, watching her transform routine into magic with her easy smile and gentle words.
“Thank you, Brielle,” Callie mouths to me.
The kids snake around the room, eagerly waiting for their turns. “Save me a cookie, will you?” I lean against a desk, crossing my arms and letting the anticipation build. Because once the kids are distracted, I’ll spill everything to Callie. Every sordid, steamy detail.
“Of course,” she tells the children, her voice tinged with laughter. “Alright, little ones, it’s recess!” Callie announces once she’s handed out all the cookies, her voice rising above the murmur of excitement. The room erupts into a cacophony of cheers and scraping chairs as the children bolt toward the door, their small feet thundering like a herd of miniature elephants stampeding toward freedom.
As the last echo of laughter fades, the air in the once lively classroom hangs heavy with silence. It’s just me and Callie now, surrounded by crayon masterpieces and the lingering scent of orange chicken from the brown sack on her desk.
“Please tell me that smell is what I think it is.”
I push the bag toward her. “Duh.”
Callie settles across from me, an eyebrow quirked, a knowing smile playing on her lips while she takes out the food. “You’re practically vibrating with news, Brielle. Spill before you burst.”
I lean forward, hands clasped together, my heart pounding against my rib cage. “Callie, you have no idea. I’m dying to tell you everything.” My words are a dam ready to break, the secrets itching to escape, already tingling on the tip of my tongue.
“Tick tock, Brielle.” Callie’s voice cuts through the thick air of anticipation. “Thirty minutes isn’t a lifetime, and that’s all you’ve got until the kids come back in from recess.”
I nod, my pulse racing like a countdown timer. “Right, right.” My fingers drum on the laminate surface of the child-sized table, each tap echoing my urgency. “The man from the plane…well, it wasn’t just one man. And…they’re not just any men.” My voice drops to a whisper, the weight of the revelation heavy on my tongue.
Callie’s eyes widen. “What do you mean?”
“They’re…professors.” The words spill out of me, tumbling over one another in their haste to be heard. “At the college. And they’re friends of my dad, and not just any friends—like, his best friends.”
“Professors?” Callie gasps. “Your dad’s friends?”
“Yep,” I confirm, the truth of it settling into the space around us, a tangible thing that shifts the atmosphere. My hands go clammy, the remnants of the adrenaline rush from our illicit encounter now replaced by a cold, sinking feeling.
“God, Brielle.” She leans back, her chair squeaking in protest. “Tell me you’re joking,” she says, half pleading, half demanding.
“I wish I was.” My gaze drops to the half-eaten cookie in my hand, suddenly unappetizing. “And it gets more complicated.”
“Complicated how?” Callie’s voice is a tightrope, taut with tension.
“Promises were made,” I murmur, the confession sticking in my throat like a lump of raw dough. “To keep things quiet.”
