The Friend Game (Games for Two #1)

Chapter 14

“SO ALL OF THE scholarships for the year are gone?” Sydney repeats back what Luke just told her, a frown pulling on her lips. We’re all seated around Jill’s kitchen table, nursing cups of coffee while the kids play in the basement.

“Yes,” Luke nods, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t get creative and find a way to get Caroline in at a reduced rate.”

“Oo-kaayy,” Sydney stretches out the word, “so tell me what you’re thinking.”

“There’s one other way besides a scholarship for a kid to go to Grace Canyon for next to nothing,” Luke informs her.

“And what’s that?” Sydney lifts one manicured eyebrow.

“Any child of a Grace Canyon employee is eligible for anywhere from a seventy-five to ninety percent discount on tuition.”

Sydney’s other eyebrow pops up. “But I’m not a Grace Canyon employee.” Her lips curl up in a flirtatious smile. “Wait a New York minute, Pastor Abbott, are you proposing to me right now? Do you want to be Caroline’s new daddy?”

“W-what?” Luke stammers, color rising to his cheeks. Suddenly I can’t remember why I’m even helping Sydney. “No, sorry—”

Sydney’s high-pitched laugh cuts him off. “I’m just messing with you, Pastor. I see the way you look at Hannah, so I know you’re off the market. Now tell me, what kind of job is available at Grace Canyon that my associates degree qualifies me for, because last I heard you need a teaching certificate to even think about teaching there.”

I try not to wince as she says this, wondering how much Brooke has told her about my teaching certification, or rather my lack thereof.

“Media center assistant,” Luke announces. “Belinda Lagman, our librarian, has been asking for an assistant since the beginning of the school year, but the board of trustees only approved the position a couple of weeks ago. Belinda and Principal Novak have done a few interviews but haven’t found anyone promising.” He drums his fingers along the table. “To be frank, Belinda is being very particular. You’ll have to make her happy if you want to get offered the position. It should help that you’ll have the endorsement of both myself and Hannah, but when you do the interview focus on Belinda.”

“She likes Christian romance novels and matchmaking,” I supply. “And her youngest daughter just left for college, so she’s also adjusting to having an empty nest.”

“So what you’re saying is that I should show up to the interview with a Karen Kingsbury novel under my arm, a print out of my match.com profile instead of my resume, and a load of laundry for her to do?” Sydney quips.

“You have a match.com profile?” Brooke gasps, whipping out her phone. “How did I not know about this?”

“Simmer down, Brooke.” Sydney rolls her eyes. “I was just joking. Obviously I don't have one, because as you well know, Caroline is my priority right now.”

“And because you’re a love chicken,” Brooke mutters as her shoulders slump in disappointment.

“I’m ignoring you,” Sydney trills. “I have a job interview to think about. Thanks, Pastor Abbott and Hannah for your help on this. Caroline going to Grace Canyon would mean the world to me.”

“Happy to help,” Luke replies.

“Me too,” I agree. “But all jokes aside, the Karen Kingsbury novel was a good idea. I would highly recommend you do that.”

***

“Hannah, I have a bone to pick with you,” Belinda’s voice sing-songs as she walks into my room the following Thursday.

“Oh?” I look up from the box of art supplies I’m sorting. “What sort of bone? Nothing to do with Sydney, I hope.”

Sydney had her interview Tuesday, and, although Luke said she nailed it, last I heard, Sydney hasn’t been offered the job.

“Sydney Carter? No, no of course not. I loved her. Her story reminds me of the heroine in this book I read last year. I can’t remember the title off-hand, but it’s one of Denise Hunter’s novels. Anyway, she accepted the job this morning. I do hope she’ll relax her 'not dating right now' policy. Tell me, Hannah, do you know anything about Caroline’s father?” She leans in close and whispers, “He does know about her doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” I say slowly. “Adam knew about Caroline. He passed away when she was only two.”

“Oh, my.” Belinda’s brow creases. “That’s so sad. Here I was hoping to be the catalyst for their second chance romance, meanwhile she must still be in mourning even all these years later.” She straightens and sets her mouth in a line. “That just won’t do. We’re going to have to help Sydney find love again. Do you agree?”

“Um,” I begin uncertainly, but she barely seems to hear me .

“Anyhoo, now that that’s settled let’s talk about my bone with you. Did you or did you not reject the advances of the eligible cinnamon roll I sent your way yesterday?”

“The… eligible what?”

“Cinnamon roll,” she repeats more loudly, like her volume was the problem.

“You sent me a pastry yesterday? I never got a pastry.”

“Oh Hannah, you call yourself a Gen Z-er but you don’t even know what a cinnamon roll is?” Belinda chides. “I’m talking about Connor Wilhelm.”

“Connor Wilhelm, the middle school science teacher?” Realization is dawning. He did come to my classroom yesterday.

“Yes!” Belinda exclaims.

“You sent him here?” I’m shocked.

“Of course! I told you I’d find you a man, and Connor Wilhelm is an excellent choice. As I said, he’s a total cinnamon roll, meaning he’s sweet and warm and kind.” She holds up her fingers and starts ticking off items. “He’s handsome with that dark hair and those blue eyes. I think his glasses give him a Clark Kent vibe and imagine being the lucky woman who gets to whip them off!” She winks. “But most importantly, he’s available now. Unlike the man I know you’ve been crushing on. ”

“Belinda!” I gasp. “You make me sound like some sort of hussy! It’s not like Luke is married or even seeing anyone!”

“Oh so it’s Luke now, is it?” Belinda gives me a knowing smile. “I suppose that means there really is no hope for Connor or any other bachelor I’m tempted to send your way.”

“Belinda, Connor came into my classroom, welcomed me to the school, then asked if I wanted to join him in the cafeteria later for a chocolate milk.”

“He didn’t!” Belinda is appalled. “So literal that one.”

“Literal?” I raise a brow.

Belinda adjusts the belt cinched around her dress, avoiding my gaze. “Connor noticed you at chapel yesterday and asked me about you. So I told him you were new and he should feel free to stop by your classroom and ask you out. Then he seemed a bit nervous, so I jokingly pointed out that he could keep things casual. Just tell her to meet you in the cafeteria for a chocolate milk, I said. I didn’t know he’d actually do it.”

“Well he did,” I tell her. “And let me tell you, turning down someone asking you out for chocolate milk felt a bit like taking candy from a kid.”

Belinda laughs. “You just make him nervous, Hannah. Anyway, you could’ve just said yes. I know you’re pining after Pastor Abbott, but that doesn’t mean you can’t date someone else while you’re waiting for him. After all, what if you wait until his contract expires, but he still doesn’t ask you out? You’ll have waited for him for nothing.”

I chew my lower lip, debating how to respond to this. I don’t feel comfortable telling her about the date Luke and I have planned for when his contract expires. I haven’t even told my sisters about it. After Luke left on Saturday, Jill came home looking all concerned and said she’d been talking to another Grace Canyon mom and made a joking comment about how she was trying to set me up with Luke only for the woman to look completely horrified. She then reminded Jill of Luke’s contract, and now Jill is completely mortified that she’s been trying to push us together.

“I just completely forgot about that silly clause,” she said all defensively. “I mean, why would I remember? It’s not like I’m in the market for a husband. You’d better stay away from him, Hannah. You don’t want to risk your job more than you already are with the whole lying thing.”

So, yeah, I’m not telling Jill.

And if I told Brooke, she’d probably encourage me to just date him in secret. An all too tempting idea that I refuse to entertain.

I’m not sure how Belinda would respond if I told her. Most likely she’d tell me about a romance novel she read where this exact situation happened .

Which actually could be helpful. I’d love to know how this is all going to turn out.

But no, I can’t tell her, because I don’t want to risk it getting out around the school. That might be bad for Luke. I could even see the elders viewing our scheduled date as some sort of breach of contract. Maybe they’d add an amendment about not even being allowed to plan dates until after the year is up.

“I think he’s worth the wait,” I settle on telling Belinda.

She turns her mouth down in an exaggerated pout, but then nods. “Okay then, I suppose I won’t try to set you up with Mark Hancock then. He’s the gym teacher here, you know. Basically a life-size Ken doll.”

“Wow. Well, as tempting as the idea of dating an oversized plastic doll is, I’ll stick with my waiting for Luke plan.”

“Ooh, My Waiting for Luke Plan , I like that as a book title.” Belinda frowns in thought. “Or perhaps it’d be better as The Waiting for Luke Plan . No, that’s not right either. Hmm… The Waiting Plan? ” She taps her chin, then smiles. “I’ve got it,” she lifts one hand, bracketing each word, “ The Waiting Game . Sort of like The Hating Game book , but without all the sex. If things end well between you, can I have the rights to your story? I’ve always had a secret aspiration to pen a love story. I’d use my story with Reggie, but I worry I’d struggle to keep it closed door.”

“Belinda Lagman,” I hiss in shock, “we are in an elementary school.”

As if to illustrate my point, my Thursday afternoon class comes bursting through the door, their teacher, Ms. Ellis, taking up the rear.

“Well that’s my cue to go,” Belinda waves at me, offering Ms. Ellis a smile too as she sails out the door.

Ms. Ellis is Ellie’s teacher, and before I can even greet the class, Ellie throws herself at me, exclaiming woefully about how Peter S. tugged her braids in the hallway on the way here, so can I please send him to the principal’s office?

“Uh, Ellie, honey,” I say, carefully extracting her arms from around my waist and bending down to her eye level, “I don’t think you need the principal’s help on this one. I think you are a strong girl who can tell Peter S. how you felt when he tugged your braids, then ask him to not do it again.”

Ellie’s lower lip remains jutted out in angst for a second, but then she nods. “Okay, fine.” She whirls around and shouts, “Peter S., that was mean when you pulled my hair! Don’t do it again or my aunt is going to send you to the principal’s office!” The whole class starts making ooo-ooo noises and Peter S.’s eyes widen to saucers.

Well, that’s not how that was supposed to go .

“Okay, let’s all calm down and take a seat,” I address the class, then walk over to Peter S. “Peter, don’t worry, nobody is going to the principal’s office, but please keep your hands away from the girls’ hair, okay?” He nods, then darts for an open stool, sitting on his hands like he’s worried they might act of their own accord and take a fistful of the hair of the little girl sitting next to him.

“Ellie,” I dip down to speak into her ear as I head back to the front of the room, “next time talk to him one on one, that wasn’t nice to embarrass him like that.” Ellie’s nose scrunches in a pout, but she nods.

“Alright, let’s all remember the number one rule in my class.”

I look at them expectantly and they diligently chant back, “No matter what you create today, make sure to always practice the art of kindness.”

“That’s right.” I beam at them. “So let’s get back on track with that, my little artists, because I have a very exciting piece of news to share with you all.” I smooth the front of my yellow polka-dot shirt, then flip on the monitor of my smartboard to show the flier I received in my email from a local art gallery earlier this week.

“Grace Canyon has been invited to participate in the Desert Sunrise Art Exhibition at the Howard Chapman Gallery.” I pause, waiting to see if any of the kids will recognize the name, but Mia alone squeals in excitement. I should’ve known she would know the Chapman. It’s one of the most prestigious galleries in the state. I was more than a little shocked when I received the email inviting us to submit our top student works for them to display at their upcoming art show. I mean, there will be professional artists showcasing their work at this same show. People charging hundreds, if not thousands, for their work. I suppose though, that when you teach at a school like Grace Canyon, where the parents are as influential in the surrounding community as Taylor Swift is in the music industry, these types of opportunities happen all the time. No big deal.

Ha!

“This is a really big honor,” I continue as Mia practically vibrates on her stool. “The Chapman hosts professional artists, which means if your artwork is selected, it will be displayed alongside those professional artists.” Mia squeals again, and now a few other kids are starting to look excited too.

“We’ll be working on a few different projects over the next couple of months, then I’ll be selecting a winning student in each one of these categories.” I flip to the next screen, a list of the twelve categories they’ve requested submissions for. “You are also allowed to make a project outside of school to submit if you’d like. And in fact I hope some of you will, as we simply won’t have time to make projects that fit all of these categories. Not to mention the school doesn’t have the necessary tools for all of them.” My eyes land on the final category listed on the page, pottery , and my chest burns. To be completely honest, when I first saw the subject line of this email, I thought they wanted me to submit my work to the show. It was a bit of a let down when I realized they were requesting student artwork.

Still, I’ve recovered from the disappointment.

Mostly.

Did I consider submitting one of my own pieces and pretending it was a student’s? Possibly.

Just for like a quick second.

Maybe two.

Minutes.

“Miss Garza, would you mind if I interrupted your class for a quick minute?” A familiar voice pulls my gaze off the list, and I look to the door to see Luke standing there, Caroline at his side.

“Oh, hello, Pastor Abbott. No, I don’t mind at all. Please come in.”

“Great.” Luke leads Caroline, who’s chewing her lower lip nervously and has her eyes locked on the floor, to the front of the classroom.

“Caroline!” Ellie shouts, and Caroline looks up, a relieved smile breaking out on her face as she takes in Ellie’s boisterous wave. “Hi, Caroline!” Ellie sings.

Luke laughs. “Well, I had planned on introducing you all to a new student who will be joining your class next Monday, but it seems Ellie Bernard has done the job for me.”

Ellie claps her hands, delighted with herself. “Everyone,” she trills, clearly taking Luke’s words as an invitation to say more, “this is Caroline Carter, she’a a dancer and an artist, and she’s amazing! She designed our sweatshirts for our dance team, because she can draw really good!” Ellie whirls to face me. “Hey, I bet she’ll get into the art show, Aunt Hannah! I mean, Miss Garza,” she amends.

“Art show?” Luke lifts a brow at me. “What art show?”

“We’re going to be famous, Pastor Abbott!” Zach announces. “Our art is going to be next to real artists! ”

“Slow down, Zach,” I laugh. “You all are real artists; the artists at the show are just people who have made careers out of art.” I flip back a slide and address Luke and Caroline. “This is the art show we’re talking about.” I run through my explanation once more, noting the excitement taking over Caroline’s features. She’s not vibrating or squealing like Mia, but I can still sense her eagerness in the way her cheeks flush and her eyes glow .

“Wow.” Luke lets out a low whistle as I finish my spiel. “What an amazing opportunity for you all.” He looks across the room at me. “So were those the categories for submissions I saw on the screen when I came in?”

“Yes, there are twelve.”

I flip back to that screen, so he can see, then immediately regret it when he says, “Pottery, huh?” My mind flashes back to our conversation my first day. Pottery is no longer a passion of mine, I’d told him. It was clear then that he hadn’t bought my lie, and it’s even clearer now as he raises his eyebrows and stares me down. “Wonder if you’ll have any submissions for that category.”

“What’s pottery?” The other Peter (Peter W.) asks.

“Pottery is stuff made out of clay.” Ellie replies promptly. “Aunt Hannah used to make pottery and my mommy has one of her teapots. It’s so beautiful.” She sighs with reverence, and I feel heat rise to my cheeks. I had no idea Jill owned one of my pieces. When I first started selling my pieces I sort of made a big stink about my family not buying them. I wanted to see if I could make it on my own, without my family buying my stuff out of obligation. I’ll just make you something , I remember telling Jill when she protested my stance. Apparently she ignored me. I can’t be mad though.

I’m too touched .

Like blinking away tears, touched.

Yup, I’m standing in front of 19 second-graders fighting back tears. This is worse than the time Jill and Max came home from a date to find me watching Lady and the Tramp and bawling my eyes out. All while Ellie and Liam snored on the couch.

How they fell asleep during such a heart-wrenching movie is beyond me. Those dogs became a family for goodness sake.

“You can make a teapot?” Mia’s voice breaks through my angst, and I manage to focus on her instead of myself. She’s staring up at me with a mixture of awe and eagerness in her expression.

“You can make a teapot,” I tell her, injecting a little too much pep in my voice in the hopes of making up for my watery eyes. “But it’s more of an advanced pottery project. If you’re interested in submitting a pottery piece for the contest, I’d go for something simpler, like a bowl.”

“My mom doesn’t like clay,” Mia says with a sigh. “She says it’s too messy and that it will ruin my nails.” She looks down at her fingernails, which, I notice for the first time, are perfectly manicured.

Her mom’s not wrong. Working with clay all day does wreak havoc on your nails. But I also don’t think that’s something an 8-year-old should have to worry about. Then again, I wasn’t getting professional manicures when I was 8, so what do I know?

“You can just do clay at my house,” Ellie offers.

“Or we can do it here.” Peter S. suggests. “I want to do clay too. I bet I could make a lightsaber out of clay.”

“A clay lightsaber might not workout,” Luke tells Peter S. with a laugh, “but I bet Miss Garza has some other clay projects in mind.”

“Actually,” I interject quickly, “as fun as it would be to do a clay project or two, I’m not sure it’ll be possible. I mean, we don’t have a kiln here to fire the clay.”

Plus, I no longer have anything to do with pottery. Knock, knock. Who’s there? Not pottery. Nope, because all of my pottery has left the building and will not be coming back again.

“What’s a kiln?” Peter W. asks.

“I bet my dad would buy us one,” Kingston pipes up. “He likes to buy me stuff.”

“I think,” I begin, trying to get off the topic of pottery, “we should discuss the first project we’ll be doing.”

“I bet my dad would buy us two kilns,” Peter W. counters Kingston.

“Mine would buy three!” Kingston retorts.

“That’s nice of you both,” Luke interrupts before Peter W. can offer for his dad to spend more than my weekly salary on kilns, “but the school actually does own a kiln.”

“What?” I’m so surprised I forget about trying to change the subject. “Really? How come I didn’t know about it?”

He lifts one shoulder. “Well, probably because it’s technically not the school’s kiln. It actually belongs to the church.”

“The church owns a kiln?” That’s bizarre.

“We do.”

“But what does the church need a kiln for?” I cock my head, Holy Spirit clarity striking. “Is it meant for demonstrative purposes? Because the people of the church need to remember that the Bible says we are jars of clay, fragile, but possessing the great treasure that is the power of God?”

Luke lets out a surprised breath. “Uh, no.”

Okay, so not the Holy Spirit then. Just me attempting to show off my Biblical knowledge to impress the hot pastor.

“Last month,” Luke goes on, “one of the church’s more eccentric members passed away and left the church her whole estate. We’ve had a team of volunteers slowly sorting through all of her belongings, trying to find homes for all of the random items in her possession. Two such items were her pottery wheel and her kiln. They’re currently being stored in the church’s basement.” He shrugs. “I’m guessing the elder board would be happy to donate them to the school if they knew there was a need.” Luke meets my eyes as a smile plays on his lips. “Those items were actually what I wanted to show you the other day before you informed me of your lack of interest in pottery. Of course, if your lack of interest still stands, I’m sure the board could find a different home for them.”

Oh, he’s good. That cocky smile of his is back, and it is sure to be the death of me.

“No, Pastor Abbott!” Mia cries. “We want it! We want it! Tell him, Miss Garza!”

“Yeah, tell me, Miss Garza,” Luke challenges with a grin.

I look all around the room at the students’ beseeching eyes. They’re all excited about the prospect of throwing pottery. And why wouldn’t they be? Working with clay is magical. Taking a heap of what’s essentially gray mud and transforming it into something beautiful is one of the most amazing feelings. Or at least it used to be. Before Marshall swept away all of the magic and replaced it with a lifeless blob of goop. What could I make with goop?

Still, I hate to disappoint all these kids.

“Please, Aunt Hannah,” Ellie whispers.

“Imagine the possibilities.” It’s these words from Mia, words that make my heart beat faster, that finally push me to give in .

“Okay,” I relent. “We want the pottery wheel and the kiln.”

Luke grins. “Great. I’ll make the arrangements.”