Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
NOAH
The last thing I expected was to have to come home in the middle of the day to shower. But when you step, slide, and fall into a pool of fresh vomit left by a student, there really is no other option. From now on, I’ll make sure I leave an extra set of clothes at school so I can shower there.
After hurriedly changing into a clean pair of jeans, I pull a fresh sweater over my head.
Then I comb my hair and grab a pair of socks out of the drawer.
The shock of running into another person in my house probably took five years off my life, but at least it was someone I knew and not an ax murderer.
Not that I ever really knew Allie Rogers, but she was always around when we were kids.
Allie is nothing like I remember her being.
Of course, I haven’t thought about her in years and the last time I saw her was at Lorelai’s high school graduation party.
Back then I would have described her as mousy and nondescript.
Which is clearly no longer the case. She’s tall—she seems taller than she was back then; her hair is darker and longer than I remember; and her eyes have a dangerous kind of spark that radiates from them.
It’s like she knows something about me that I don’t even know about myself. Which I find totally disconcerting.
While I’m marginally annoyed to have had a second sizable shock in my day (the first being the vomit slide left by that poor girl), I’m relieved my sister found someone else to do her bidding.
Now that school is back in session, I’m busy from early in the morning until at least seven o’clock at night.
There will be very little me-time in the coming months.
Once I’m dressed, I stop off in the kitchen to grab the tuna fish sandwich I made for my supper.
After tossing a bag of chips into the sack, I scan the room to make sure there isn’t anything else I want.
There’s not much here so I’m going to have to find some time to hit the grocery store to stock up on snacks.
After turning off all the lights, I hurry out to my car.
I parked out front instead of pulling into the driveway, which is probably why Allie thought the house was vacant.
Once inside, I immediately put on my Pitbull playlist on Spotify.
Then I jam out to “Fireball” on my way back to the high school.
It’s a surreal feeling to once again be going to Elk Lake High School day after day.
Part of me expects that every time I cross the threshold I will have time-traveled into the past. Whenever I pass my senior year locker, which is probably ten times a day, I try to remember the combination so I can get my textbooks out.
Walking into the lobby, I’m once again greeted by the principal.
He looks more harried than he did this morning.
“Mr. Riley,” he says while striding purposefully in my direction.
Stopping in front of me, he asks, “You don’t happen to know anybody who might be willing to take on a substitute teaching job for the rest of the year, do you? ”
Being that I no longer know anyone in town, I tell him, “I sure don’t. Is someone leaving?” Obviously someone is leaving, or he wouldn’t be looking for a sub, which is once again a clear indication of how bad I am at small talk.
“Trish Bailey’s husband got offered a job in San Francisco. He starts next week, and she’s going to follow him as soon as she can get their house on the market.”
“That’s fast, huh?” I mean, who gives notice and leaves a week later?
Johnathan’s gaze shifts nervously before he answers, “She might have mentioned something about it being a possibility a month ago, but I didn’t see the need to fill a position that wasn’t even vacant yet.
Also, who wants to leave Elk Lake? We live in paradise, man!
” He punches my shoulder like I’m his drinking buddy.
“Paradise, huh?” I force a smile on my face. Even though I love Elk Lake and it was a great place to grow up, it is not by any stretch of imagination my current idea of nirvana. It’s also not the ideal place for a single man in his thirties to live.
“We have everything a person could ever want right here!” he enthuses like he’s the mayor starring in a “Welcome to Elk Lake” commercial. He itemizes, “We have a lake, woods, several charming eateries, a movie theater, a bustling tourist trade during the summer months …”
My head bobs up and down like a bobble head on a speeding dashboard.
I clear my throat and wait for him to take a breath.
He doesn’t. “There’s Rosemary’s that makes the best cookies in town, the Elk Lake Lodge which has a lovely restaurant, there’s the country club that makes the best beer-battered fish I’ve ever eaten … ”
It occurs to me that Johnathan Cooke’s idea of the perfect town is centered around his stomach.
Which is probably why his girth has increased so much over the years.
“Johnathan,” I interrupt him before he can regale me with tales of his favorite burger from the diner, “I was wondering why we don’t have a girls’ basketball team.
” I remind him, “We used to when I went to school here.”
“Girls’ basketball?” he asks like I just introduced a foreign concept. A look of confusion takes over his features.
Nodding my head, I assure him, “It’s a thing.”
He presses his lips tightly together before saying, “I don’t think we have any girls interested in basketball.”
“We do. Leah Flynn scrimmaged with the boys’ team this morning. She says she has several friends who want to play.” I add, “They’re coming to practice today, if you want to stop by.”
“Is that so?” Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Johnathan finally confesses, “I don’t have the manpower to oversee a girls’ team. I don’t have the budget, either.”
I can’t help but wonder, “Why do schools always prioritize boys’ sports over girls’ sports?”
His eyes widen like I just asked him the meaning of life. “Well … I suppose …” He finally settles on, “It’s just always been that way.”
“Maybe so, but what if the girls are better than the boys? Don’t you want Elk Lake to be known for something other than the food we have to offer?”
“Are the girls better than the boys?” he asks anxiously.
I shrug my shoulders. “Leah Flynn is just as good as her brother and she’s two years younger.”
Clearly surprised by that knowledge, Johnathan says, “She’s just one girl though. What about the others?”
“Again, why don’t you stop by practice and see for yourself?” Even if Leah is the only girl with talent, it seems fair that the girls are given an equal opportunity to shine. Or in the case of our current boys’ team, fail.
“I guess …”
He doesn’t seem the least bit sold on the idea, so I suggest, “How about if the person you hire to take the English teacher’s job is brought on with the understanding they will also be the girls’ basketball coach?”
His expression is so comical, you’d think I just asked him to conjugate verbs in Swahili. “I don’t think there are that many women who play basketball.” Does this guy live in the nineteen fifties?
“First of all, a lot of women play basketball. Secondly, you don’t have to hire a female coach,” I tell him. “Men can coach girls just as well. I just won’t have the time.” That’s when an idea suddenly hits me. “My sister’s friend from childhood used to play high school ball.”
His unruly eyebrows furrow. “Does she live in Elk Lake?”
“She does,” I tell him.
“Is she looking for a job?”
“Maybe.” I don’t know where Allie currently works, or if she even does. It sounds like she might have moved home to nurture a broken heart, which for all I know might be all she can take on.
“Can she teach English?” he wants to know.
“Couldn’t tell you, Johnathan. But I know she graduated from college. If nothing else, I’m sure she would make an adequate sub.”
While not excited about Allie’s coaching prospects, the principal does seem pleased she might be a candidate to fill the English teacher position. “Why don’t you talk to her and see if she can come in for an interview?” he asks.
I suddenly wish I had kept my mouth shut.
It’s not that I’d mind talking to Allie again, but I didn’t get the feeling she would welcome it.
Also, I’d have to call my sister to get her number, and Lorelai is currently full of complaints about my apartment décor.
Or rather, the lack thereof. I know she’s itching to redecorate for me, but I’m not interested in funding her little hobby.
Especially when I like the rustic, college-boy vibe.
“Listen, Johnathan, I’ve got a gym full of kids ready to practice so I need to hustle.” I remind my boss, “Don’t forget to stop in and check the girls out for yourself.”
I can tell by the look on his face that he’s not going to, which really irks me. He’s the principal for Pete’s sake, and it’s his job to give all the students at this school a chance to participate in extracurricular activities.
I jog several yards to the gym’s entrance and am surprised by what I see when I open the door.
There are seven girls on the court shooting hoops while eighteen boys sit on the bench gossiping like a bunch of church ladies at a potluck.
Approaching the bleachers, I demand, “Why aren’t you on the court? ”
“Practice doesn’t start for ten minutes,” Alfonse declares defiantly.
“Who cares when practice starts?” Pointing to the girls, I tell him, “It’s clear to me there are only seven real basketball players in this gym and all of them are out there.”
“No fair, Coach!” This is from Decan Flynn. “We’re just giving them some time before we kick them out.”
“We’re not going to kick them out,” I assure him. “Because as far as I’m concerned, they’re the only ones who really want to be here.”
Kenny James jumps to his feet. “This is the boys’ practice!”