Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Royal
“Okay, go!” I shout, and the first kid in each of the three lines they’ve formed races toward the board to solve the math problem on the giant flash card I’m holding in the air.
Kimber finishes first, and her teammates shout as she races back to slap hands with the next student in her line, James. I hold up the next card, and James writes the problem on the board while the other two finish the first problem simultaneously and run back to tag in their next teammates, relay-race-style.
I find games like this effective in burning off some of that post-lunch energy, and if they get to practice their math skills at the same time, it’s a win-win, isn’t it?
It is…until it isn’t.
A flash of color catches my eye, and I glance over to see Callie glaring at me through the window on my door. I don’t know if she knocked––there’s no way I could hear it over all this noise––but I can tell by her expression, she’s pissed.
I blow out a long breath, because of course, she’s pissed.
Holding up my hands, I shout, “Freeze!” and the room falls into an instant, almost eerie silence. I tell them not to move while I step out for a moment, and they all stand comically still like they’re pretending to be statues in a museum.
Steeling myself, I step out into the hall, and Callie only stares at me silently until I pull the door fully closed behind me. Crossing my arms over my chest, I cock my head and meet her eyes.
“You’re not giving your class another math test, are you?” I ask, referring to the conversation we had on Monday morning.
“No,” she grits out, her jaw so tight, I’m afraid it might shatter. “But my students are trying to read .”
“Have you tried turning up that weird mandolin music you like to drown out the noise?” I ask, and I don’t know why I do this.
I can’t seem to help trying to get under her skin. It’s like her ire is a narcotic of which I can’t ever seem to get enough.
“Have you tried keeping your class under control?” she shoots back, then huffs. “And it’s a lute, not a mandolin.”
“Same thing,” I say just because I know it’ll give me another hit of that drug I love so much.
Her eyes widen, then narrow, and I brace for a tirade on the differences between the two instruments only to be disappointed when Callie just grits out something that sounds like “keep it down” before spinning on a heel and marching back to her classroom.
I blow out a long breath as her door closes firmly behind her, then shake my head as I walk back into my own classroom to find the students still frozen, quiet giggles slipping between pinched lips as some of them wobble unsteadily.
“Okay,” I call out, clapping my hands together once, “I’m going to institute a new rule to the race. The rule of silence . If you make so much as a peep, you have to erase your work and start over. Everybody got it?”
A chorus of tight-lipped hums rings out around the room, and I nod and shout “Unfreeze!” The room breaks out into a chaotic, yet somehow mostly silent frenzy as the race continues. The only sounds are the squeaks of markers against the whiteboard and the shuffle of shoes on the thin carpet.
When the winning team finishes, they erupt in whispered shouts, hugging each other and jumping around. Even though the game is over, they understand the assignment––try not to disturb Miss Barnes’s class. I smile as I direct everyone to their seats, then grin even wider at the groans when I start passing out a worksheet for them to complete.
“It can’t be all fun and games,” I say. “I have to actually teach you something, too.”
They settle down as they get to work on the math problems, and I walk up and down between the desks to keep an eye on their progress and be available if anyone needs help. My mind keeps wandering to the classroom next door, however, and I can’t help but wonder if Callie is even appreciative of my efforts to keep my class quiet. Probably not. She’s probably still angry I let them get that loud in the first place.
At the end of the day, my students call out boisterous goodbyes as they file out, and I gather my things and stuff them into my messenger bag before following them out into the hall. Callie steps out of her classroom at the same time as me, and I cross my arms over my chest before quirking a brow at her. She gives me a single, grudging nod before spinning away and marching down the corridor.
A quiet laugh barks out of me. Stubborn woman.
I follow slowly behind her, and she doesn’t look back as she exits the building and crosses the parking lot to her car. Once she’s safely inside the vehicle, I head for my own car and climb inside. I check the time on my dashboard’s display when I start the engine, noting that I have time to go home and change before meeting my brother, Linc, at our favorite bar and grill for an early dinner and drinks. It’s Friday night, so we agreed to go early and beat the crowd of young twenty-somethings who fill the place later in the night.
We’re only a few years older than that crowd, but somehow, it feels like a much bigger age gap when they start getting tipsy and loud. At least, it does to me . Linc likes to call me a grumpy old man even though he’s only two years younger than me, but I know he’s secretly over the whole “party” phase of his life, too.
After a quick shower, I pull on my best jeans and a dark blue button-down, cuffing the sleeves to just below my elbows. I brush my teeth, swipe on some deodorant, and spritz on some cologne before finger-combing some styling gel into my damp hair. Satisfied with the messy style, I head out, locking the apartment door behind me.
The drive across town takes a bit longer with the five-o’clock-traffic jamming the streets, and by the time I get there, Linc is already at a table, two draft beers sweating on the lacquered wood as he stares at his phone.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” I say as I slide into the chair across the table from him.
He frowns at his phone before sliding it into his pocket, then clears his expression as he meets my eyes.
“No worries. I just got here a few minutes ago, myself. Traffic sucked.”
“Tell me about it,” I say as I lift one of the beers and take a long sip. Swallowing, I add, “So, how have you been, man? I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”
“It’s been two weeks,” he deadpans, then bites his lip. “I was giving you some space. I know this time of year is tough for you.”
I shake my head quickly. “I’m fine.”
Two simple words that scream “I don’t want to talk about it.” Linc seems to understand, nodding before launching into a diatribe about his most recent job. He’s a professional contractor, so he’s always got stories about clients and their unrealistic expectations.
I listen with a half-smile as he rants about a particularly prickly client, but my mind soon wanders to the aforementioned taboo subject, and my mood drops. It’s been a tough couple of weeks, emotionally, and the only thing that’s really distracted me from my pain is my ongoing battle with Callie.
My lips curve into a real smile with that thought, and Linc’s flow of words stutters, snapping me out of the memory of our interactions earlier today. Linc gives me a curious look, then picks up the story where he left off. I force myself to focus on him, pushing all thoughts of Callie and…everything else…down so I can enjoy this time with my brother.
When a waiter comes by to take our orders, we request a second round of beers and a platter of chicken nachos to share. The appetizer portions here are huge, so we usually split something on nights like this.
“So, how’s it going with your grumpy neighbor?” Linc asks after the waiter leaves.
“Who?” I ask, confused.
I get along pretty well with my neighbors, so I have no clue who he’s talking about until he grins and waggles his eyebrows. I blow out a long breath, and he smiles even wider.
“Miss Barnes,” he sing-songs like he’s one of my students.
Whenever he asks about my job, the conversation inevitably turns toward her and whatever squabble we’ve been engaged in recently. Linc is convinced there’s something more going on between us. Some electric undercurrent neither of us wants to acknowledge, even to ourselves.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
“We actually called a bit of a ceasefire today,” I say.
“Really?” he asks, his tone disbelieving. “She backed down and let you run your classroom like you want to?”
“No,” I say. “Not exactly.”
“So, you surrendered,” he says knowingly.
“It’s not a war, Linc,” I grumble. “I just added another element to the game my students were playing.”
“Quiet game rules?” he asks, arching a single brow.
He knows me too well.
“The kids loved it,” I say, my tone turning defensive.
He cocks his head. “You know, if you could get the district to approve it, I could come in and install a wall facade with some soundproofing insulation between your classroom and hers. Problem, solved.”
It’s not the first time he’s offered it, but just like before, I shake my head. “Our budget is too tight.”
While that’s true, it’s not the real reason I always shoot down the idea. And I refuse to go into the actual reason, even to myself.
“Oh,” I say, changing gears. “Speaking of budgets, we got the zoo trip.”
“You did?” he asks, smiling. “That’s great, Royal. I know you’ve been fighting for it for years.”
“I’m so stoked,” I say. “The fall festival apparently pulled in twice the money this year than it usually does.”
“Because you finally let your students smash whipped cream pies in your face,” he says with a chuckle.
“That didn’t hurt,” I say, laughing with him. “Between that and the dunk tank I climbed into later, I probably pulled in most of the excess.”
“Are you sure your students actually like you?” he asks.
“Of course, they do. They love me,” I say, edging the words with a haughtiness that makes Linc laugh again.
“Sure they do,” he says, and before I can respond, the waiter shows up with our drinks and tells us the nachos will be out shortly.
Linc and I continue to talk and laugh through dinner, and by the time we finish, I feel more relaxed than I have all month. I’m glad we’re so close, both emotionally and geographically. I don’t know what I’d do without him, and I know he feels the same way about me.
And as we close out our tab, and I think about heading back to my empty, quiet apartment, I stifle a sigh. I consider inviting him over, but he mentioned he has an early job tomorrow that can’t wait until Monday. I know he wants to head home and get some sleep.
So, we hug and pound fists against each other’s backs before leaving the bar. I give him a wave as we part ways in the parking lot, then I climb into my car, letting that sigh I suppressed blow out of my lungs.
Then I start the motor and head home. Alone.