8. Zach
8
ZACH
B rent scowled at me. “Who the heck are you ?”
I raised one brow as I turned to face the blond kid, unamused with this punk’s tone. That attitude rubbed me the wrong way, and I racked my brain for how an adult was supposed to deal with a brat. I came up empty. My experience with kids was nil.
“Brent Francis,” the receptionist, Sara, scolded, “you watch your attitude. And need I remind you that you need to be quiet while you wait for Principal Cole?”
“Francis?” I narrowed my eyes, hoping this secretary was wrong. “Brent Francis ?”
She cringed and nodded.
My annoyance kicked up a notch. I was in full-on aggravated mode now.
“Yeah. I’m Brent Francis.” Brent puffed out his chest and smirked like he looked cooler, superior.
The whole damn family was far too full of themselves, but if this kid was a Francis, that meant his mother had to be Reagan Francis. The cheerleading snob. The prom queen. The snubbing, mean-spirited girl who was infatuated with the thought of being my high school sweetheart. I settled and caved to date her for a while, but when she cheated on me, I went from tolerating her to not wanting her in my presence at all.
And that meant the raised voice of a woman yelling at Cole in his office had to belong to her.
That’s fucking great.
A deep sigh gusted out of me, and I rubbed my brow to ease the tension building there and warning of a headache. I’d just managed to get away from her since my return to town. When she cornered me at Coach Parker’s party, she stopped me from going back to check on Blake in the kitchen.
I swore I still felt her clinging touch as she tried to hang off me and hug me. Touching my face, like she had any right to get up close and cozy with me. Reagan Francis had staying power—and not in a good way. More like a bad dream you can’t shake away.
Running into her again wasn’t high on my list of things to deal with. Her personal brand of homecoming welcome was something I could do without for the rest of my life.
“Now it’s making more sense,” I muttered.
“What is?” George asked.
“Who’s talking to you, moron?” Brent sneered at him.
I turned to George, not giving the punk my attention. That was what he wanted. Attention. Power. Anything to make him feel bigger and better than anyone else. Slanting toward George, I stage whispered. “Now it makes sense why he’s such a whiny punk.”
Sara made a sound, something like a cough but maybe a laugh. I glanced at her. “Is that crossing a line?” I asked. I didn’t know the rules about how to deal with kids. Maybe applying to be a janitor fill-in at an elementary school wasn’t wise. “Is telling it like it is unethical?”
Covering her mouth with her hand, she robbed me of being able to guess whether she was laughing, scowling, or gawking. Her eyes hinted at her amusement.
“Because I don’t make a habit of lying,” I said, lowering my voice to make sure the kids knew I wasn’t bullshitting. “Your mom might think she’s got this whole town in her hand, but guess what?”
Brent scowled at me, hanging on for the rest of what I’d explain. I supposed since I was a stranger, I held his curiosity. If I didn’t, he’d treat me with the same disrespect he’d shown Sara.
“Sooner or later, you’re going to bully the wrong person, Brent Francis.” I drawled his surname. “And that’s what we call Karma.”
George nodded. “Yeah.”
“Shut—”
I shot Brent a look, and it worked. He clamped his lips shut and sighed.
Right then, the door opened. Cole Ameena stepped out, frowning at us three seated here. “Hey, Zach.” His expression of suspicion faded as he smiled and greeted me. A brief handshake followed, and I was glad Reagan stayed in his office. From the sound of it, she was on the phone, yelling away at someone else.
“I’ll get to you just after I deal with these two.”
“I doubt that will be a problem,” I said. “I was just chatting with them.” Patting George on the back, I tried to smile quickly. “Right, boys? We were discussing Karma?”
Cole arched one brow at me then slid his thick-framed glasses up his nose. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” George stood. “I’m sorry to take up your time, Principal Cole. If I can be excused, I’d like to help Ms. Erin clean up the mess in the classroom before dismissal.”
I nodded at him. “That’s nice.”
Cole glanced at Brent, who sulked and crossed his arms. He didn’t make eye contact.
“I think that would be a nice gesture from both of you,” Cole said. “Your mom is on a call in the office, but as soon as she’s done, I think she’ll get you for dismissal.”
“Whatever,” Brent mumbled as he got up and left the office.
“Thanks, Mr. Stranger.” George nodded at me and left after his bully of a classmate.
Cole sighed, glancing at Sara at the receptionist desk. “Hey, Sara, I’m going to chat with Zach in the lounge. So, uh, Reagan can have privacy to finish her call with her father.”
If I hadn’t been watching him, I would’ve missed how he turned to roll his eyes. Sara smirked, lowering her head, and nodded. “Leave me to deal with her while she waits for Brent, huh?”
Cole chuckled as he guided me toward the staff lounge. “Sorry to host an interview here,” he said, gesturing at the relaxed room that looked like a mesh of a dining room, TV space, and copier machines with other office-like things.
“No worries.” I sat as he did.
“I didn’t realize you’d come home.” Cole smiled easily. “I know we weren’t exactly close friends or anything back in high school all those years ago, but I knew of you.”
I nodded. “Same.” Then I shrugged. “I didn’t have many close friends back then, anyway.” Just Kevin. And he’s gone.
I breathed through the ache that still caught me on the bad days. Since I’d come home, the bad days far outnumbered the good.
“But I’m back. For now.” I cleared my throat, not a fan of the awkwardness I felt when I didn’t have anything to back that up. Explaining why I wouldn’t be around would be natural, but I had no clue where I’d go next. “I was caught in a crash during a training overseas and my shoulder just cleared the doc’s orders for rest.”
“Damn. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Medically discharged, but I’m as whole as I’ll ever be.” Yeah, fucking right. “Nothing too hardcore with my shoulder.” When he asked a few follow-up questions without being intrusive or nosy, I explained that I’d had surgery. To my supreme relief, he didn’t do the whole pity spiel of thanking me for my service or suggesting anything was meant to be. I hated that shit. It wasn’t true. Sometimes, shit just happened for no reason and we’d all be expected to pick up the pieces and carry on.
“So, principal, huh?” I asked.
He nodded and filled me in about what he’d been up to with his career. Education was his passion, but he wondered about getting out of admin and going back to the classrooms. With the display of a punkish bully like Brent, I had to wonder why.
“So, if you’re interested,” Cole said, “I’d love to hire you for some help. Nothing strenuous or crazy. Just odds and ends. We’ve got a part-timer from the community college who handles a lot of the ‘housekeeping’ things like cleaning restrooms, the floor maintenance, and stuff like that.”
“Okay.” I already told him about my shoulder, and it seemed like he’d understand my limitations.
“Drake—that’s his name—is working for the school through a program that covers a big portion of his pay, and that’s helpful with Mr. Benson not retired yet and on leave. We don’t have room in our budget for this academic year for replacing him or hiring on supplemental staff.”
“Got it.” I huffed a laugh. “I’ll be honest, Cole. I’m not in this for the money.”
He laughed lightly too. “Why are you?”
I shrugged. “My sister, Amanda, suggested it. And I just need… something.”
“Bored since you’ve been home?” he guessed with a careful smile.
“Idle,” I clarified. “I’m not sure that preoccupying myself with some custodial work here is much of a solution, but I agree that having a job of some degree will help me shift from my former life and identity to something more… civilian.”
“Sounds like this is just what both of us need.”
We chatted some more, and he got up to grab some paperwork for me to fill out. I’d start soon, and that gave me a slight sense of purpose. No more walking around at home, staring at the walls, and wondering what I could do with my life now. I’d have somewhere to be. Something to do.
It was a start, and I’d take it.
After we shook hands and shared our contact information, he waved me off in the hallway. “And hey, the offer stands,” he called out. “If you want to catch that game tonight, I’ll be at the bar.”
I chuckled, slightly humored that he was a lifelong fan of my team’s current rival. “Eh, the Packers aren’t going to win.”
He scoffed. “They’ve got better odds than Cleveland does!”
I shrugged, waving at him again. “Maybe. We’ll see.” I felt lighter, not so much at the prospect of hanging out with someone who could be a friend while I was here, but because I had a little something to look forward to.
Heading toward the double doors that would lead out to the wintery cold, I wrapped my coat tighter around my body and prayed I could leave before seeing Reagan coming out of the office.