The Friend Game (Games for Two #1)

Chapter 21

“I HAVE TO tell him, George,” I announce as I walk into George’s office the next day. “I can’t keep lying…” my voice trails off as I realize George is not alone. Nope. Lexie Stone is sitting in the chair across from him, looking fashionably festive on this, the last day of school before the holiday break. Most of the other parent volunteers who came in today to help with class parties sported things like reindeer antlers, snowman earrings, or in the case of one particularly spirited dad, a full-on Buddy the elf costume. Not Lexie, though.

Nope. Lexie has outfitted herself in a form-fitting red sweater dress paired with thigh-high leather boots that I’m guessing cost more than my whole outfit put together. Although, to be fair, most pairs of shoes cost more than my whole outfit put together, seeing as I purchased both my horrendously ugly Christmas sweater (picture a pug in antlers overtop a green background dotted with a hodgepodge of Christmas trees and that’s my sweater) and the jeans I paired it with from Salvation Army ($12.99 for both thanks to a well-timed blue tag sale!).

She looks more like she belongs at a fancy Christmas soiree than at her kids’ elementary school parties.

And yet, I feel incredibly frumpy in her presence and even find myself wondering why I didn’t wear a fancy dress to school today. It’s the Lana Marie Bell effect. Similar to the Regina George effect: cut two holes in the bust of her shirt and suddenly that’s what everyone is doing.

But I digress.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I amend my speech given Lexi’s presence. “I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” George says. I peer more closely at him, surprised to see a tense frown in place of his typically amiable expression. “We were just finishing up, right, Mrs. Stone?”

Lexie looks at me, her curiosity evident in her features. “Yes, we were, Principal Novak, unless Miss Garza here is in need of my assistance? As the PTA president, I’m well-versed in many topics pertaining to the school. If there’s something difficult you need to tell someone, I’d be happy to mediate the conversation. ”

My eyes pop wide at the very thought of Lexie going anywhere near the conversation I need to have with Luke. Hard pass. I inhale deeply, sending up a prayer for some of that peace on earth this season is known for.

“That’s nice of you to offer, but I think I’ll be okay,” I tell her, pasting on a smile.

“Well, okay then,” she trills, rising from her seat. “I suppose I’ll be going. But you’ll think about what I said, Principal Novak?”

He gives her a terse nod, but no other response.

“Lovely,” she purrs, before rising from her chair and exiting the office. I hear her speaking to the secretary in undertones. I sort of want to try and listen, but the disgruntled expression on George’s face has me shutting the office door and sitting down in the chair across from him instead.

“What was that about?” I ask, leaning forward, elbows on his desk.

He shakes his head. “You don’t want to know. Now what were you going on about when you walked in? Telling who, what?”

“Oh.” I slump back in my chair with a sigh. “George, I have to tell Luke the truth about my certification,” I say. “I can’t keep on lying to him.”

George’s eyebrows shoot up and his mouth curves up in amusement. “Oh, it’s Luke now is it?” He settles his arms over his stomach and studies me. “You like him.”

“What?” I gasp. “I do not.”

“Hannah, I’ve been a principal for over 30 years, and as such I consider myself something of an expert at detecting when someone is lying. And you, my dear, are lying. You like my son. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Oh really?” I huff. “You don’t see any problems with it?”

“Problems? What problems?”

“I don’t know, off the top of my head I’d say the fact that I’m lying to him about my certification.” I tick the item off on my finger.

“For his own good,” George dismisses my concern.

“Okay, or how about the fact that he’s not allowed to date anyone until March.” I tick off another finger.

“Technicality.” George waves this away. “So you have to wait a few months to date. Nothing you two can’t handle.”

“You’re assuming he wants to date me,” I say wryly, finding it somewhat amusing how simple George has managed to make my problems sound.

“Oh he wants to date you,” George chuckles. “I haven’t seen him this out of sorts over a woman since Abby Sawyer walked up to him on the playground in fifth grade and kissed him on the cheek.”

I preen . Just sit in my chair and preen. Luke is out of sorts over me? Me?

Wait, but who is this Abby person?

No, I shake that ridiculous thought away. I am not going to be jealous of some girl who kissed Luke on the cheek in fifth grade.

I mean, if she turned up in person we’d have words. But as things stand, Abby is a thing of the past.

“Don’t look too pleased with yourself over there, missy,” George teases, bringing a bright flush to my cheeks.

“I’m not pleased with myself,” I lie primly. “In fact I’m very dis pleased with myself because, as I was saying, I’m lying to Luke and I feel awful about it. So no matter what you say or even if it costs me my job,” I stumble a little over this part of my speech, because I may talk a big talk, but I need this job, “I’m going to tell him the truth about not being certified.”

George steeples his fingers under his chin. “Okay,” he finally relents.

“Okay?” I echo in surprise. I was expecting more resistance. I’m a bit disappointed actually. I had a whole heart-wrenching speech prepared.

Now I know how Jill feels when we cut off her monologues at the dinner table .

Bless her heart.

“Okay,” he repeats. “But I have a few stipulations.”

“Stipulations?” I’ve turned into a cavernous room, echoing everything he says.

“Yep. First, I wonder if you’d mind waiting until after the holiday break. I hate to spoil Christmas with this business.”

“Oh.” I consider this. Sure I want to get this off my chest, but he makes a good point. I don’t want to spoil anyone’s Christmas. I drum my fingers across my thighs as I debate my answer. This feels like one of those What Would Jesus Do moments that I don’t like the answer to. Jesus would tell him now. Then again, Jesus never would have withheld the information in the first place.

Although Jesus wouldn’t want His birthday ruined, now would He?

Yeah, I know. Horrible argument.

“I don’t know, George,” I finally say. “How about we compromise, and I promise to wait until the day after Christmas?”

“Fine.” He nods. “My second stipulation is this: please be sure to submit the drawing piece for the art show before you tell Luke.”

I frown. “Why would that matter?”

“Because, Mrs. Stone was just in here trying to get my assurances that her daughter’s drawing piece would be the one submitted to the show and not the one done by, as she put it, ‘that silly little scholarship girl’.”

I bristle in my chair, a shock of angry goosebumps dotting my skin. How dare she!

“And,” he continues, “if Luke does as I suspect he will and tells the board about you not having a teacher’s license, your tenure with us will likely be ended shortly after. I’d hate for the new teacher to find themselves at the mercy of Mrs. Stone’s whims.”

Okay, George is playing really dirty here, and I do not care for his methods. Sure, it would be very bad for my finances if I got fired, but I could bounce back. I usually manage to at least keep my bank account balance from dipping below zero. But Caroline. I don’t want her to miss out on an amazing, possibly once-in-a-lifetime opportunity because of my mistakes.

“George,” I moan, “you know the submission window doesn’t open until mid-January.”

He nods.

“So then why did you just agree to let me tell Luke December 26?”

“I was just warming you up,” he replies. “Inching you closer to the real date I had in mind.”

I purse my lips.

“Hannah,” George gives me a sympathetic smile, “I’m sorry. I know I’m putting you in a difficult position. Perhaps I never should’ve hired you in the first place. It was rather selfish of me, I suppose, but to be frank, I’ve grown tired of catering to the board’s every whim. This quiet act of rebellion made me feel as if I actually had some control over the goings on at my own school. Still, lying to Luke has left me feeling guilty too. I tell myself it’s for his own good, that it’s better for him not to be in the middle—but am I simply looking for an excuse for my bad behavior?” He sighs, looking weary and worn down. “I hope that’s not the case. I certainly don’t take lying to Luke lightly. However, when I look at you, Hannah, I see your talents as an art teacher and how you’re reaching these students and making them feel seen.” His eyes get a little misty. “To tell you the truth, it makes me think of the parable of the talents. Are you familiar with it?”

“You mean the one about the man who left each of his servants talents, and when he came back one had made ten more, another had made five more, and the last had hidden his talent in fear?”

“That’s the one,” he says with a smile of satisfaction. “Hannah, you’ve been given a talent, not of the monetary kind of course,” he interjects with a laugh, “but rather a gifting. You are a gifted teacher and artist, and I would hate to see you go back to hiding that gifting instead of using it to bless others. ”

“I wouldn’t say I was hiding my gifting,” I say, feeling a little salty about this phrasing.

“Oh really? Tell me, why is it that you don’t throw pottery anymore?”

I gape at him. “How did you know I’d stopped?”

He shrugs. “Luke may have mentioned it to me when he was practicing his speech to the elder team.”

“What speech to the elder team?”

“The one he gave them practically begging them to gift the pottery wheel and kiln to the school. They wanted to sell it.”

“What?” My hand flutters to my heart like it has to hold it in place before it beats out of my chest. “He had to beg them?”

“Indeed, he did,” George says jovially. “But he did so quite happily. The man is quite taken with you, Hannah.”

Quite taken with me? I bite back a smile and command myself not to squeal in the principal’s presence. I can’t help the little dance my feet do under the desk, though. I’ve got happy feet–just like that penguin from the movie. Because Luke is taken with me! Squee!

“I feel as if we both have some things to think about,” he goes on, apparently oblivious to the state of elation he’s put me in. I’ll be humming “I Feel Pretty” from Westside Story for the rest of the day.

Which is totally not a Christmas carol.

“I guess we do,” I agree. “But George, no matter what, I want you to know that I appreciate your belief in me and your support of me in my role as Grace Canyon’s art teacher.”

“You make it easy to support you, my dear,” he replies without missing a beat. And now I’m the one blinking away tears. Talk about a roller coaster of emotions. “I’ll see you later at the chapel service?”

“Of course,” I agree, standing up to take my leave.

I came into George’s office fully prepared to make him see things my way, but as I walk out I’m left wondering how I can see things God’s way. Perhaps I’ve been too self-focused, thinking only about how my decisions will affect me. Seek me first, that’s what Jesus said in the Bible.

If I’m honest, I don’t think I’ve done that very well for quite some time now. So as I reach my empty classroom, I sit down at my desk and, for the first time since I accepted this job, I fold my hands and ask God what He wants from me.

The answer doesn’t come in a burning bush or a clap of thunder, nor is it particularly specific, but it is a Biblical truth that nonetheless settles over my soul calling me to live a life pleasing to God. It’s the words from Micah 6:8–“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”

Act justly. Love mercy. Walk humbly with God.

Seems like a good place to start.

And I think I have a plan to do just that.