Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
SIMONE
I figured with the way things had been going at school, it was best not to wait too long to start my assessments with Jasper. I sent an email to his guardian and confirmed a time that didn’t conflict with my normal study group and headed over after they were all picked up at the end of the session.
In a normal school system, going to a student’s home for tutoring or assessment probably wasn’t a regular occurrence.
There was a reason I chose a small town middle school though.
Small town students often didn’t get all the help they needed and while I wasn’t getting paid to help, as most small town families couldn’t afford to pay for tutoring, I felt it was worth my time because I wanted to give my students the best hand they could get.
This wasn’t my first tutoring at a student’s home, and it wouldn’t be my last.
I arrived at the address Mr. Fletcher sent to me and checked my bag to ensure I had all the materials I’d need for the assessment. Satisfied that I hadn’t forgotten anything, I slid out of my car and headed for the front door, my footsteps slowing as I took in the chaos inside.
Even from the walkway, I could hear the fire alarm blaring and the baby screaming.
Alarmed, I hurried forward, finding the door already open and the room hazy as I stepped inside.
Mr. Fletcher was in the kitchen, uselessly waving a towel at the fire alarm in an attempt to disperse the smoke.
Meanwhile, the stove was partly open with smoke still billowing out of it, still on from what I could tell, the whole room was filled with smoke, and while the baby was safely away in a playpen, it was obvious she didn’t appreciate the noise as she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Mr. Fletcher kept trying to reassure her while jumping around, but it did no good when he was too busy trying to deal with the smoke to comfort her.
There was also music booming from somewhere else in the house, almost loud enough to block out the rest of it, it was so loud.
Mr. Fletcher saw me standing by the door and visibly winced. “It’s alright! I’ve got it under control! Just gimme a second!”
I was going to step in because he obviously needed assistance when the booming music from upstairs suddenly cut out.
A door slammed open and a familiar face came stomping down the stairs, barely acknowledging my presence before he marched over to the playpen and plucked his little sister up, popping a pacifier into her mouth like he’d done it a million times before.
She settled immediately, laying her head on his shoulder, while Mr. Fletcher finally managed to turn off the fire alarm by poking it with the handle of a broom stick.
It wouldn’t stay off if he didn’t turn off the oven, but at least I could hear myself think.
“Seriously? This is the third time this week,” Jasper snapped. “Stop with the nugget thing. You’re going to light the house on fire.”
Mr. Fletcher grimaced. “I thought–”
The look Jasper gave him was full of teenage vitriol, and I could see how sharply it cut through the poor man who looked like he was trying his best. He’d need to develop armor against that look. Teenagers could smell weakness like blood in the water.
“The box has instructions on it. It’s not that hard. If you can’t handle it, then just stop trying. I don’t want Isla getting smoke inhalation because you can’t handle following instructions on a box.”
He didn’t wait around for his guardian to reply, spinning on his heel and marching back upstairs with his sister in tow.
He gave me a side eyed look as he passed, but didn’t stop to greet me or give me any indication that he was going to be more easy going while working with me.
That was fine, though. I could handle teenagers. His reaction was nothing new to me.
Once the door upstairs clicked closed a lot softer than when it was open, I turned to see Mr. Fletcher standing there with a helpless expression. He was in over his head and if someone didn’t help him, he’d be no good to those kids who obviously needed him if they were put in his care.
“I suggest–” I began, only to be cut off with the fire alarm going off again.
I figured that would happen since the smoke hadn’t dissipated and only got thicker because of his inaction.
Before he could grab the broom to shut it off again, I called out directions.
“Turn off the stove and remove the burnt food. The smoke won’t stop if you don’t. I’ll open the windows.”
He seemed relieved to have directions and hurried to do as I asked as I set down my things by the door and started opening the windows one by one.
I’d just finished with the front windows when he yelped and I swung around in time to see him douse the burnt food with water and a cloud of smoke and steam filled the room.
I sighed. If he was this clueless, why did he think it was a good idea to take in two children?
It took opening all the windows and doors, turning on all the ceiling fans, and removing the burnt food and putting it outside before the smoke dissipated and we could finally speak without shouting over a screeching fire alarm.
Mr. Fletcher looked exhausted, leaning against the kitchen counter with a defeated look on his face, and I felt bad for him, but I also wanted to ensure the kids were somewhere safe.
“Mr. Fletcher–”
His expression screwed up and he shook his head vehemently. “Zero. Not even my clients call me Mr. Fletcher.”
I pressed my lips together to withhold the judgmental comment, correcting myself. “Zero, then. Was Jasper being truthful about this kind of thing being a regular occurrence?”
He huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head.
“Not this bad, no. The first time, I only burnt them a little, but they were still cold in the middle. The second time, I put the sauce on before cooking them, which made them inedible according to Jasper. This time, I was in a hurry. I thought if I turned it up, it’d cook faster and they could eat before you got here. ”
I nodded slowly. They were simple mistakes that were expected from someone learning to cook, but Jasper had a point. “I am going to recommend you stick to following the instructions on the box. Is there a reason you keep attempting chicken nuggets?”
“A buddy in my crew said they were a kid favorite. I was trying to make them something they liked.”
He sounded so dejected about it, and it was obvious he was trying. He just had no ability in the kitchen to speak of.
Figuring I could help for at least one night, I stepped past him and opened the cupboards, taking in the contents.
He had a fully stocked kitchen, I’d give him that, including plenty of options for a rounded meal in the fridge.
I could understand why he didn't make something from scratch if he wasn’t confident, but there were a few recipes that didn’t require much experience to make.
I pulled out the necessities, setting them on the counter, and browsed the crisper drawer for vegetables to add in.
“What are you doing?” he asked curiously, leaning to look over my shoulder.
“I’m going to show you a simple recipe that most kids love. Then I’m going to send you a few links to similar recipes online. If you follow the instructions, the meals aren’t that complicated. I used them myself when I was learning to cook.”
He looked bewildered when I straightened to put the vegetables on the counter. My lips quirked in a vain attempt to hold back a laugh, and I pointed at him sternly to get him moving.
“I need a pot, a cutting board, and a saucepan. Do you have a colander?”
“Uh…”
Right. Too complicated for a beginner. “Nevermind. Just get me those first three, then you can wash the vegetables.”
To his credit, he didn’t balk at my instructions or try to demand I do it alone.
He might be a biker, but he wasn’t a misogynist who thought he shouldn’t have to be in the kitchen.
He followed orders, getting me the things I needed, and paid close attention when I instructed him on how to make spaghetti with meat sauce.
The smell eventually drew the children back downstairs, Jasper carrying his sister and buckling her carefully into the high chair tucked in one corner.
He dragged it over to the table next to him, scowl firmly in place.
“Hello, Jasper,” I greeted calmly, waiting with a firm look until he finally acknowledged me politely.
“Hi, Ms. Brooks,” he grumbled.
I handed him his bowl, nodding in approval when I found Zero busy cutting the baby’s food into smaller bites.
Her bowl had a suction on it and when he put it on her tray, I understood why when she immediately tried to pick it up and probably throw it.
Zero didn’t look annoyed by the action, smirking at her and wagging a finger.
“Nuh uh. I asked the guys how to stop wearing your food. Eat it instead of throwing it for once.”
Huffing a breath of amusement, I sat across from Jasper, leaving the space next to the baby open for Zero to claim so he could help feed her.
No doubt, she’d figure out how to unstick the bowl, but he was patient with her, offering her little bites on a plastic fork and ignoring his own food to tend to her.
Giving my attention to Jasper, I finally got on track with what I’d come here to do. “So, Jasper. What were you learning at your last school before moving here?”
His expression closed off and he scowled at his food. “I don’t know.”
“Do you have any past assignments?”
“Who saves old math homework?” he shot back, then slumped when I gave him a stern expression.
I wasn’t as easy going as his guardian was.
And unlike Zero, my response to children acting out in my class always involved more work.
My students learned to follow directions if they didn’t want to be buried in homework.
Zero, proving that he was paying attention to more than just the baby, asked, “Do you understand any of what’s going on in class, or is it all new?”