The Friend Game (Games for Two #1)

Chapter 23

“I’M SO SORRY,” I blurt before anyone else can even speak. I’m not paying attention to anyone else in the room; my eyes are only on Luke. “I was going to tell you.”

Inwardly I wince. I was going to tell you . Talk about the oldest, lamest excuse in the book.

“There’s no need for you to apologize, Hannah,” George interjects. “Goodness, this is all getting blown way out of proportion. So she doesn’t have a teaching degree. It’s not as if I hired the woman to teach astrophysics, she’s teaching art and she’s doing a fantastic job of it at that!” George sounds angrier than I’ve ever heard him. Gone is the jolly and effusive man I’ve come to know and in his place is a fierce fighter.

Despite my angst, I’m touched by the way he’s going to bat for me and not backing down.

Then again this whole thing was his idea .

Another lame excuse I plan to use on Luke if he won’t forgive me. It was your dad’s idea!

Oh goodness. Now I sound like Adam– Eve told me to eat the fruit, God!

Nice try, Adam, but you made your own choice…just like me.

I won’t be pinning the blame on George. No, this was my lie, and I have to deal with the fall out from it.

“The bylaws of the school are quite clear,” Lexie says icily. “All Grace Canyon teachers must have a teaching degree in order to teach at the school. No exceptions.” She smirks at me as she echoes my own earlier words to her.

“I disagree,” George retorts. “She’s the exception.”

“Regardless of how you feel, the rules are what they are, George. Which is why when I discovered through some simple research that Miss Garza graduated with an art degree, I felt compelled to come forward. If I can find her lack of qualification so easily, anyone else can too—and if it came out that we hire subpar teachers it would obviously be bad for the school.” She has the audacity to look bored by the proceedings as she holds out a hand to examine her fingernails, then adjusts her giant wedding ring so that the diamond is more fully centered. “Now then, if you have a problem with the rules,” she goes on, dropping her hands to look his way, “you’ll have to take that up with the board.”

“Actually,” I speak up, willing my voice not to shake and studiously avoiding looking at Luke–if I have to see the betrayal in his eyes I might lose my nerve to and not say what I need to say–“I was planning on bringing this very subject up with the board at the next meeting. You see, I may not have a teaching degree as of yet, but I plan to start taking classes next fall with the intent of earning my degree. I planned on asking the board if they would consider allowing me to continue teaching while I earn my teaching degree.”

There’s silence in the room following my pronouncement and I fight the urge to flee the room. Running away won’t solve my problems. Not for long anyway. As Marshall proved this morning, even when you do try and outrun your problems, eventually they catch back up with you.

“A splendid idea, Hannah.” George speaks first. “Don’t you think that’s a splendid idea, Luke?”

I finally let myself look at Luke, but his expression is unreadable. Guilt and anxiety churn in my stomach. Why didn’t I just tell him this morning? I could’ve made the kids wait in the hallway for a couple of minutes while I laid it all out for him .

Or, you know, I could’ve told him the truth in the first place.

Always the best option. Honesty truly is the best policy.

“I highly doubt the board will go for that,” Lexie huffs. Annoyance chafes against my skin. Duh, Lexie! I want to exclaim. I already know how you feel about the subject. What I want to know is what Luke is thinking! And you spoke before he could!

I wish I were 10 again so I could tell her to shut up then stick my tongue out at her.

Children are so lucky they're allowed to behave childishly.

Behaving adultishly is so much less fun.

“Yes, but you are only one member of the board,” George reminds her. “Hannah is perfectly within her rights to speak with them on the matter.”

A flush of displeasure creeps up Lexie’s neck. “Fine,” she relents. “Go ahead and state your case before the board, Miss Garza. You might as well go out with a bang. In the meantime,” she begins.

“In the meantime,” Luke speaks for the first time, interrupting her, “we’ll keep Miss Garza on staff as a long-term substitute.”

My gaze jerks over to him as my heart does a little pitter-patter in my chest. Is he standing up for me? I can’t tell. He’s just standing there looking all stoic. And his voice is so flat and expressionless .

But the words…the words seem supportive.

Ish.

“I don’t know about that,” Lexie begins, but Luke cuts her off again.

“We don’t have anyone else lined up to teach art at the moment. Retaining Miss Garza as a substitute is the most practical option.”

Practical. It’s not exactly synonymous with romantic. But what was I expecting? For him to ride in on a white horse and declare war on Lexie?

Sure, my imagination may have briefly gone to such a scenario, but my imagination has been running wild since I was 3-years-old and my mom first gave me a set of 64 crayons instead of just the standard 8 colors. It simply can’t be helped.

“I’m sure I can find a suitable candidate,” Lexie insists.

“By this afternoon? Or even by tomorrow?” Luke asks.

Lexie purses her lips. “Fine,” she grits out. “Miss Garza may stay on as a long-term substitute, but only until I’ve found a more suitable candidate.”

“Or until the board approves her as a permanent teacher,” George pipes up.

“As I said, that will never happen,” Lexie reiterates.

“We’ll see about that,” George counters. The two of them are locked in a stare down. I hold my breath, willing George to outlast her, but in the end Luke breaks both their concentrations.

“Well, since that’s sorted, I’d better be going. Porter Johnson had surgery yesterday, and I promised his wife Carrie that I’d stop by and pray with him.” That said Luke exits the office without even a glance in my direction.

My heart plummets to the floor. Every cell in my body is urging me to go after him, to beg him to hear my apologies and forgive me, but I can feel Lexie’s eyes on me. If I take off after Luke, she’ll know there’s something going on between us, and the last thing Luke or I need is for Lexie to come after Luke’s position as pastor, all because he and I decided to go on a date in March.

So I stay rooted in place, trying not to cry. If Lexie sees me cry, she wins.

And I can’t let her win.

“I suppose I have some work to do,” Lexie declares, striding toward the door. “George,” she turns her attention back to him, “I’d think about your allegiances if I were you. If you’re not careful, the board might not only get rid of Miss Garza, they might also start to take issue with your decision to go against the bylaws and hire her.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but my stomach sinks even further. They can’t go after George too !

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” George replies calmly.

“We’ll see about that,” Lexie says smoothly. “Now then, Miss Garza, perhaps you’d like to accompany me to my car before heading back to the art classroom.”

I don’t miss the way she calls it the art classroom rather than referring to it as my classroom, a not so thinly veiled reminder that I’ve been demoted to substitute.

I also don’t want to go with her to her car. I’m not even sure why she wants me to–is she simply trying to extend her period of gloating?

“Miss Garza,” she repeats, tapping her foot impatiently, “I asked you to accompany me to my car.”

It’s a reflection of my rattled state that I go with Lexie. I’m too beaten down from my interaction with Marshall, the showdown with Lexie, and most of all from the new wedge that’s formed between me and Luke to stand my ground and stay.

“You know, Miss Garza,” Lexie says as soon as we’re alone in the hallway, her heels clacking menacingly against the tiled floor, “I can make this whole thing go away.” I turn so fast to look at her, that I think I might have given myself whiplash. “I want Mia’s drawing piece in that art show, Miss Garza.” She lifts her chin, daring me to push back.

“Are you saying that if I submit Mia’s drawing piece to the art show, you’ll let me keep my job?” I ask the question slowly and carefully, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

We’ve reached the door to the parking lot and she stops walking and turns to face me, folding her hands in front of her. “Hannah, Hannah, Hannah,” she switches to my first name, which somehow–despite the fact that I obviously often go by my first name–makes me feel lesser than, as if she’s officially stripped me of my teacher title, “please don’t put words in my mouth. I’m simply saying that, should things go as they were always meant to go, meaning Mia’s piece gets rightfully selected to be in the art show, that would make me happy. And you know, happy people really are more forgiving.” With that said, she swivels on her heels and exits the school.

I stare bleakly after her, the sick feeling in my stomach intensifying.

The bell rings loudly, signaling the change of class periods for the middle schoolers. Any second now the halls will be filled with students. Plus I have a class of third-graders coming to my room in about ten minutes. So I swallow down my tears and hurry down the hall back to the art classroom, sending up a silent prayer that somehow this all works out, that I don’t let myself be completely intimidated by Lexie, and, most earnestly of all, I pray that Luke will forgive me.