The Friend Game (Games for Two #1)

Chapter 6

“HANNAH, WELCOME,” GEORGE greets me with a smile as he guides me into his office ten minutes later. “I’m glad you could come in today.”

“Well, thank you for having me,” I say as I lower myself into the chair across from his, noting that there’s still one empty chair. “Will, uh, Luke be joining us?” I ask, like I actually know who that even is. I’m only inquiring because I really don’t want to have to do my whole speech twice. I’m happy to shoot the breeze for a bit to avoid having to do so.

“Ah, yes.” George nods. “He plans to join us, but he got called away to the library, so he’ll come later.” He leans forward, placing his elbows on his desk and steepling his pointer fingers. “Which works out well as there’s something I need to talk with you about before he arrives. ”

Ice grips my spine. I knew it. He’s figured me out. I fumble in my brain for my speech, ready to just go for it.

“Principal Novak, there’s something I need to tell you,” I begin, but he holds up his hand to stop me.

“I know, Hannah.”

Right. He knows. If only there were just one option for damning things he could know about me. Could be the unsanctioned substitute thing. Could be the no teaching degree thing. Could be the fact that last week I ran over Jill’s curb effectively killing a streak of grass, then erased the video evidence of my indiscretion off her Ring doorbell.

“You know about yesterday?” I venture, trying to suss out which of my secrets he knows.

“I do.” He nods. “Tried to submit paperwork for you to get paid only to find we have no actual record of you being hired or even checking in at the front office.”

“Right.” My leg starts bouncing up and down, my body unable to contain my nervous energy. “I can explain that—”

“That’s not all I know, though,” again he cuts me off.

“It’s not?” I squeak, both legs going now.

“I did some digging after my first discovery and found out that you’re Jill Bernard’s sister. I felt that likely explained your unexpected presence in the school yesterday.”

“Yes!” I’m nodding so much I could be a bobble head. “All I wanted to do was bring Ellie her lunch,” I attempt to explain. He waves me off.

“After I figured that out, I ran a background check on you which came up clean. Of course it also revealed that you graduated from UCLA,” he leans even further forward across the desk, “with no teaching degree.”

My legs and chin come to a complete stop. “I’m so sorry,” I blurt. “I never meant for things to get this out of hand. I actually came here today to confess all of that to you, in the hopes of then talking about the possibility of hiring me on a trial basis, at the end of which I hope to have proved myself enough to you that you might consider joining me in front of the board of trustees to propose overturning the school’s bylaw that requires teachers at Grace Canyon hold a teaching degree.” I pull in a breath as I finish, staring hopefully at him.

He quirks one eyebrow at me. “No,” he says flatly, and my heart sinks. This is fine, I try to tell myself. I was just thinking about relocating anyway. I can’t work at Grace Canyon if I’m living in Timbuktu. One should always consider the sustainability of the commute before taking a job.

“But I have a counteroffer,” George’s voice breaks into my thoughts, and I push images of myself hurrying away from the ancient relics of Timbuktu to try and catch my morning plane to Arizona out of my brain.

“A c-counteroffer?” I stammer in disbelief.

“Indeed.” Now his eyes are sparkling. “What I would like to propose is that you take this teaching job,” he leans back and opens his hands, “no trial period. No certification necessary.”

“I’m sorry,” I blink across the desk at him, “I think I just hallucinated, because I thought you said I can have the job.” I laugh shrilly.

“No one’s hallucinating,” he chuckles. “I did say that.”

“I don’t understand. Have the bylaws changed?”

“No, indeed.” More chuckling.

“Then I still don’t understand,” I repeat. “Why would you offer me the job?”

“Because nobody ever looks into the teacher’s certification but me anyway.”

I stare at him, trying to process what he’s saying. “But…but you haven’t even interviewed me yet. Why would you go out on a limb for me? You barely know me.”

“Ah,” he folds his hands across his stomach, “true. I do barely know you, but let me tell you something else I found out while I was looking into our mystery substitute teacher impersonator.” He rifles through some papers, pulling one from the stack and sliding it over to me. It’s a picture. A very familiar picture. I stare at it uncomprehendingly.

“How do you have this?” I ask.

He smiles. “Let me tell you a story. It’s about my daughter, Amy, and her family.” He pulls another paper out, this one featuring a picture of a smiling brunette. “About six months ago she got diagnosed with breast cancer.”

“Oh no,” I breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

He nods, his expression grave. “I appreciate that. It was a very tough time for our family. I lost my first wife, Amy’s mother, to cancer when Amy was only a little girl, and I think we all had that in the back of our minds.” His voice goes gravelly as he fights off tears. I reach over and pat him gently on the arm. He gives me a small smile, before continuing. “Of course, things were especially hard for my grandkids. She and her husband, Parker, have three kids. My 6-year-old twin granddaughters and then my 11-year-old grandson. They live a couple of hours away in Phoenix. Their church community there really rallied around them during her treatment. They even had a group of people who shaved their heads in a show of support for her.”

My eyes go down to the original photo he handed me, to the bald-headed little boy smiling at the camera, and I feel a glimmer of wonder. Surely this kid can’t be George’s grandson. Can he ?

“I can see you putting things together now,” George says with a laugh. “Amy’s son shaved his head too. He came to visit Tucson a couple of months ago, because Amy and Parker thought he needed a break from all of the cancer stuff. While he was here, Amy got unexpectedly hospitalized after her port site for chemo got infected. Bo has always been a huge fan of dinosaurs, so to take his mind off things his uncle took him to the Flandrau Science Center and Planetarium. Only, the two of them got separated when my son ran into a few overzealous members of his church congregation. Bo wandered off unsupervised, and well, you know the rest.” He taps the photo in my hand. “He found you, didn’t he?”

“Bo is your grandson?” I shake my head in wonder. “And his mom has cancer?”

“Had.” He grins. “She’s been in remission for a month now.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! I’m so glad to hear that.” I can feel tears gathering in my eyes and thickening my throat. “This is just so crazy,” I say, swiping away at them. “I mean, what are the chances?” I shake my head as I look once more at Bo’s smiling face next to my own, both of our hands touching the T. rex’s leg.

“Divine Providence at its finest, I think,” George remarks. “Though I am truly sorry that you lost your job over the whole thing. Luke told me that by the time the museum director found Luke and reconnected him with Bo, you’d already been banished from the building. He did explain the situation to the director, complete with why Bo likely told you he had cancer, but the director wouldn’t budge on his decision to ban the three of you from the premises.”

“Wait, Luke is your son?” I look back up at him.

“Indeed he is,” George confirms. “I suppose you could say Grace Canyon church and school is a bit of a family affair with me as principal and him as lead pastor.”

Right. Luke is the pastor here. This is all starting to make sense now. Although why George thinks the two of us have met is beyond me. He said himself that I got banished from the museum before Luke was located and reconnected with Bo.

“Can you see now,” George goes on, “why I’d like you to have this job? Bo shouldn’t have lied to you that day, but goodness me, touching that T. rex was a huge win for him in the midst of so much worry for his mom. He was so excited about it. And not only that, but he kept talking about the nice museum lady who’d talked to him about dinosaurs for twenty minutes before taking a picture with him.”

My chest constricts with emotion and, okay, a little vindication too. I totally did the right thing that day letting him touch that dinosaur bone! Take that Brooke and Jill! I lost my museum job for an excellent cause. I’m basically that shoemaker guy in Jumanji , the one who got fired because that kid put his shoe prototype in the machine and broke it. IYKYK.

“Hannah, you okay?” George asks, and I realize I’ve let my imagination take me far away from this room again.

“Yes,” I say quickly. “Just still reeling a bit.”

“Understandable.”

“And,” I add, “while I appreciate the job offer and the gesture behind it, I’d feel awful if you’re only offering it to me out of a sense of obligation.”

“Hannah,” he looks affronted, “I wanted to offer you this job yesterday before I’d even made this connection. The students loved you! I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I got multiple phone calls and emails from parents asking about the art teacher their kids were talking so much about. Plus, I’ve seen your transcripts from UCLA, and you’re quite well-versed in many different art mediums. Not to mention I saw your pottery pieces that were featured in the Arizona Fine Art Expo last year.” He pulls another paper from his stack and holds it out to me. I stare at the familiar array of colorful bowls and mugs and my stomach twists with longing as I remember the feel of clay between my fingers. I shake it away though. The memories of that art show are not something I want to revisit. “Quite stunning. You are more than deserving of this job. The only favor I’m doing for you is overlooking the small matter of your lack of teaching certification.” He says it like all I’ve done is show up to a test without a pencil, but it’s no big deal because of course the teacher has extras.

“Small matter?” I query.

“Like I said, nobody ever looks into the teaching certification but me. Not even Luke does, and as head pastor of our church, he’s typically part of the hiring process. Parents like to know the teachers being hired share their same faith, and that’s where Luke comes in.” He pauses. “You are a Christian, yes?”

I nod. “Born and raised.”

George nods approvingly. “Good, good. Worried I put the cart before the horse for a second there.” He pauses again. “And uh,” he picks back up a little nervously, “speaking of Luke, it would probably be best if you don’t mention the whole not being certified thing. Not that he’d care per se, but given his role as pastor I’m sure he’d be uncomfortable with our, uh, little deception.” He shakes his head. “Deception is a strong word actually. Let’s call it our little bending of the rules.” He taps the desk. “I just don’t want to put him in a position where he feels like he’s not being honest with the board of trustees and the school families in general.”

I feel like alarm bells should be ringing as he’s talking, but my brain is choosing to focus on the words he’s saying that I like. This is just a little rule bending, not like we’re breaking a federal law or even a state law. Besides, I don’t even know this Luke guy, so it will be no biggie not to tell him. And sure, mere minutes ago I professed to be a Christian, and now I’m agreeing to this act of subterfuge, but maybe we should all just pause and take a look at Esther. The very story I read this morning. Mordecai told her not to mention her lineage to the king so she didn’t. Therefore she too was engaged in an act of subterfuge. An act of subterfuge that God then used to save the Jewish people. And fine, I’m probably not going to literally save lives like she did, but maybe I’ll save these elementary students from some other potentially subpar art teacher. Maybe I am here for such a time as this!

The parallels are uncanny really. I’m Esther. George is Mordecai. The board of trustees is the less bloodthirsty version of Haman. And Luke is, well I suppose he’d be the king in this particular parallel. Although obviously I’m not going to marry Luke. I don’t even know him.

“So what do you say, Hannah? Do you accept the job? ”

I blink away thoughts of Esther. “I do,” I say seriously, sitting up in my chair and squaring my shoulders. “And if I perish, I perish.”

George gives me a funny look.

“Sorry,” I say hurriedly, “guess I got a little caught up in the drama of it all.”

“You’ve got spunk.” George laughs. “I can see why Luke thought you’d be a good fit for the position.”

I smile and thank him, even though I’m starting to worry he’s a bit senile. "I haven’t met your son," I want to tell him, but he just gave me a job I’m not technically qualified for. If he told me my hair was pink, I’d nod along, then go buy some hair dye. Anyway, I’m supposed to meet Luke any minute now for the rest of my interview, so what does it really matter?

“George?” The school secretary knocks lightly on the door then sticks her head in. “Just wanted to let you know, Pastor won’t be able to join you after all. Rick Fillmore called and asked him to come over. Linda passed this morning.”

George closes his eyes. “Oh my, I’m sorry to hear that, but thankful for her eighty years on this earth. Thank you for relaying the message, Susan.”

She nods and ducks back out the door.

“Well,” George says, “no matter. He already approved of me hiring you. So I suppose I’ll see you on Monday. Unless, of course, you’ll be joining us for our Harvest Fest on Friday evening? I know your sister and her family usually attend. Might be a nice way to kick off your employment here at Grace Canyon.”

“Oh, uh, yes. I’ll be there,” I say, because it’s clear that’s the correct response.

“Perfect. See Susan on your way out then. She’s helping coordinate volunteers for it, so you can sign up with her.”

The guy is good. Five minutes later Susan has me all signed up to work the cakewalk from 5 to 7 on Friday night.

It’s fine though. I have a job!