9. Summer
Chapter 9
Summer
“L ine up in two lines, please!” I blow my whistle, trying to keep these preschoolers from darting in every direction. I stand facing the school, hands on my hips, surveying the twenty students of mine glowing with anticipation and chattering like a flock of birds.
It’s all right, though. I love their enthusiasm, even if it means a bit more wrangling. Honestly, it’s infectious and makes the aquarium I’ve visited several times feel brand new.
Shelly exits the building with her group of first graders already in two lines and looking poised compared to my littles. Behind her, her parent volunteer follows with the blue name tags for Shelly’s class. I nervously glance around.
Where’s my volunteer?
Shelly loads her kids onto bus one, then moves to me with a pack of green tags in hand. “I don’t know how you did it, but I’m impressed.”
My brow furrows. As I open my mouth to ask what she’s talking about, I notice the school’s front doors open and Principal Green stride out followed by …
I groan and Shelly giggles.
“Why is he here?” I ask, watching Kieran O’Donnell stride toward us, a step behind Principal Green.
The man is incapable of looking casual, but I’m sure he tries. A pair of dark wash jeans fit him perfectly, hugging his legs and tapering slightly at the ankles over a pair of sleek black Chelsea boots. The Henley he’s wearing under a navy trench coat is a deep charcoal, and the fit accentuates an athletic build I hadn’t noticed before. Damn him.
A cold breeze picks up, and the collar of his coat turns up. When I meet his eyes, he smirks.
No.
I turn to Shelly. “No. Tommy’s mom was supposed to be the parent volunteer.”
She bites her lip, letting her flirtatious lashes bat. “I guess not.” She breaks away from where I stand in front of the bus’s double doors, walking backward to hers. She flutters her fingers in my direction. “Good luck with Mr. H.O.T.”
“Hey! That spells hot!” One of Shelly’s first graders pokes his head out an open bus window. “Ew! Miss Farber thinks Principal Green is hot!”
Shelly bristles and rolls her eyes. “Sit down, Jeremy, before I make you ride with Miss Smith’s class. And shut the window. It’s forty degrees out!” She pushes up her orange-frame glasses and pulls her sweater down over her jeans.
I should’ve worn jeans. Instead, I opted for my burgundy corduroy dress with a pair of opaque black tights and ankle boots that are practical but make me walk like a penguin—clumsy and waddling. Guess I’m going to visit my people then.
Principal Green finally reaches me, with Kieran behind him. Aoife gasps from line two, and I slide my gaze to see her face lit with excitement.
“Miss Smith. I apologize for the delay. Tommy’s mother called in sick today, and Mr. O’Donnell happened to be in my office. He was gracious enough to volunteer.”
I blink.
I’m pretty sure my mouth has dropped open on its own. Wait. In his office? Was he complaining about me again? Oh God. Did he report the way I spoke to him? I take a deep breath, trying to remain unbothered.
“Sick,” I deadpan. “Uh-huh.”
“We wouldn’t want Tommy’s mother to get all yer students sick, would we?” Kieran lifts his chin.
“Obviously not,” I say through a gritted grin for the sake of Principal Green.
“Great. That’s settled. Have a wonderful field trip, Miss Smith. Mr. O’Donnell.” He nods and waves to the kids still standing outside.
I blink again, and Kieran gestures his arm to the two lines of ten to my right. It’s like he’s telling me to carry on. What an?—
“Ye may want to wipe that sour look off yer face.”
I glare at him, then whip my head toward my students to file them on the bus. The kindergarten class is seated in the back, and my little preschoolers file in, two per seat.
When they’re all situated, I turn to march back up the aisle where my new parent volunteer has stopped on the last step. He’s so tall his head almost grazes the top of the bus. He also looks lost. Like, this may very well be the first time he’s ever been on a school bus.
I smirk. “It’s not too late to change your mind.” I practically singsong my words in an effort to entice him out of the field trip.
“And leave ye quite literally to the sharks yerself? Nah.” He winks at me, and I scoff.
“Fine. Here.” I pull out the green name tags we have preprinted with the kid’s teacher and school. “You can hand these out then.” I toss the bundle to him, and much to my dismay he doesn’t fumble them. Nope. He snatches them out of the air without taking his eyes off me. Figures.
He moves past, his body grazing mine, and my stomach flutters when I catch the robust leather scent as it wafts by. I peek over my shoulder to watch this man, who I’d assume would scoff at the idea, pass out name tags and move down the aisle.
I huff out a breath and turn to see the bus driver staring at me through the slender rearview mirror. Her short gray hair curls atop her head and it shakes as she presses her lips together.
Mr. Terry, the kindergarten teacher, and his parent volunteer have snagged the seat behind the driver, and the only seat left is the one across from them.
I plop on it, staring at the bus in front of us in a daze and give myself a second to honor just how bad my luck is. Grabbing my clipboard from my teacher bag, I double check I have the twenty permission slip forms needed to take these kids off campus.
The bus in front of us pulls out, and I look at our bus driver whose attention is on the aisle next to me. When I look over, Kieran stands there, looking down at me.
Well, jeez.
“Care to move over?”
No.
I slide over toward the window, clipboard in hand, and move my tote beneath me.
Kieran sits, knees pressed into the plush seat ahead. It’s got to be uncomfortable for someone his size. I allow myself a quick perusal of him. Jaw tight, he stares ahead, hand placed overtop the seat in front of us.
The buses pull out of the parking lot and before long we’re on the road. Kieran groans with each jolt, and I sway in the seat, nearly smacking my head against the window when we hit a pothole.
A winterized Boston blurs by, and I choose to keep my head turned that direction. Except, a tingling sensation pulls at my gut, like I’m getting the sixth sense someone is looking at me.
He is.
Kieran studies the clipboard in my lap, and I’m overly annoyed at my situation—with his closeness. That, in turn, affects my filter, and before you know it …
“Ever notice how bus rides feel longer when you’re sitting next to someone?”
“Oh, believe me, I’m very aware,” he quips back.
I scooch farther over toward the window.
“I don’t bite,” Kieran says, showing me his perfectly straight teeth in a broad smile.
“Good, leave that to the sharks.” I cross my arms in front of me. “How did you end up my parent volunteer anyway?”
The bus hits another pothole and I’m launched into him, my face slamming into his chest as I buckle over. Two capable hands grab my shoulders, and he helps me right myself. I blow the short pieces of hair that’ve fallen from my clip, and Kieran’s mouth twitches.
“Don’t ye remember? I was in Green’s office this morning. Tommy’s mom called in sick. I’m sure ye understand what happened.”
Nope. I don’t. This man doesn’t seem like the type to volunteer. Regardless, I offer him the slowest nod in Summer Smith history.
“Why?”
I shrug. “Just wondering.”
“Just wondering,” he parrots.
“Do you always have to have the last word?”
“Aye. Only when I’m talking to ya.”
I stare at him, dumfounded.
“Mr. O’Donnell,” the parent volunteer’s shrill voice in the seat across from us pipes in, and I turn to check on my students while the mom on the outside of the aisle flirts with Kieran.
Good. She can deal with him.
As the school buses pull up to the aquarium, the bus becomes increasingly louder with the chatter of eager kids. Kieran’s eyes widen at the intensity, and I almost laugh at his face.
Standing, Mr. Terry and I direct the kids to exit out in single file while they contort their bodies and crane their necks to see the giant building. When the doors creak open, they practically stampede over Kieran, and I can’t help but laugh.
Back in their lines, my class moves under the aquarium’s banners flying high, and the students marvel at the fish tanks visible through the glass walls.
Laughter and rustling feet sound along the pavement while the kids clutch the hands of their friends to pull each other along.
Mr. Terry barks out orders to stay in line and stick with assigned buddies, as well as cautionary reprimands regarding the ice in front of the entrance. As soon as those words are out of his mouth, the kindergarten parent helper, Ms. Brooks, seeks Kieran’s help and loops her arm through his to walk inside. It’s like the diameter of a personal pan pizza. She could’ve walked around.
I glide right over it.
After holding the door open for my class to walk through, I glance to see Ms. Brooks still making physical contact with Kieran. A hand on his arm, a smack to his chest as she giggles at something he says. All of which must be fake because the man is not funny at all.
When he catches me looking, there’s a pleading in his eyes. I shake my head and suck in a deep breath. “Mr. O’Donnell,” I call.
He breaks away from Ms. Brooks, gesturing to me with a thumb over his shoulder, then he turns to tuck his hands in his coat and strides toward me.
“Thank ye,” he mutters under his breath.
“For what?” I squint like I’m confused. “I need you to wait with the kids while I get us checked in.” I give him a tight-lipped smile before following Shelly and Mr. Terry to the group check-in.
I turn in the forms and meet our group tour guide, but while the staff is explaining our itinerary for the day, my attention is drawn back to my students.
There Kieran kneels down before Aoife as he ties her shoe. Her tiny hand rests on his shoulder for support as his deft hands create loops and ties. She smiles down at him, a look of admiration stretched over her dainty features, and when he’s pulled the final bow, he tickles her before offering her nose a delicate boop with his finger.
Before he can stand, Tommy moves his untied sneaker into the picture, and I let out a quiet chuckle as Kieran moves to tie it as well.
Okay . Maybe he’s a little bit funny.