17. Nathan
seventeen
“Canyou remind me one more time that this is a good idea?” Lucy says from her post beside me.
I tug at my collar, still unconvinced myself. But I nod, affirming that this Halloween dance was a good call by our PTA.
“It will keep kids off the streets, give them somewhere fun but controlled for Halloween, and give their parents peace of mind.”
“It might also drive my anxiety through the roof if they keep inhaling candy and climbing the walls right after.”
“Back atcha,” I mutter, watching as a sixth grader does almost exactly that.
The PTA suggested a Halloween Bash the moment we knew Halloween was on a Friday this year. With the amount of troubles that students are presented with as early as middle school, we saw this as a great opportunity to do all the things Lucy and I discussed. Don and I were on the same page about everything except the chaperones. Apparently, I am the sole administrative representation.
“Well, I think I’d better go help Aaron in the gym,” Lucy says, patting my shoulder. “I’ll send over your replacement.”
I nod, straighten my Halloween-themed tie, and get back to my post at the front entrance where students trade their ID to get in and out of the event. I head up the seventh-grade table in the middle, while one of our sixth grade social studies teachers, Drake Lawson, heads up the table for his grade. That leaves just eighth grade left to be represented.
“You didn’t dress up for the bash?” Drake asks. He’s wearing a sheriff’s costume. I indicate to my orange and black striped tie, laid against a black button-up shirt.
We’re interrupted from behind.
“Lawson! I love it! To keep the middle school inmates in line?”
“Exactly! What are you supposed to be?”
“A faerie from the book series I’ve been reading…”
My blood heats at the sound of her voice, tuning out the rest of their conversation. I clench my eyes shut, willing myself not to look at her. I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle Claire in costume. Not around staff and students. Not alone with my own thoughts.
“What about you… Oh.”
Her breath catches, and something in my pulse both settles and then kickstarts at the fact that the little stutter was all for me. My chest expands. I flick my eyes open, and though I thought I had the upper hand a moment ago, it vanishes with one look at her. She’d already alluded to the fact that she dressed as a faerie from a book, but where I was expecting frills and pink and a mildly inappropriate hemline, the sight of her washes that away, the new tide somehow even worse.
She looks ethereal.
A modest, satin gown, forest green that heightens the gold of her hair to a shimmering status, the blues in her eyes as if she has become the earth itself. Her makeup is minimal, save for the glitter highlighting her cheekbones. The last pieces I notice are the caps on her ears to make them pointed, and the shimmer of gold in her nails.
She may be dressed as a character from a book, but for a second, my heart stutters at the thought that she could be my fantasy come to life.
“Mr. Harding?”
My name sounds like it’s underwater as I focus on the way her lips curve around my name. It’s then that I realize I am staring at her with my own lips parted. In the entryway to my place of work. In front of one of my employees. My jaw snaps shut like a trap, until I remember that she asked me a question.
“I wore a Halloween tie,” I say, cursing the sawdust in my throat.
“That’s no fun,” she giggles.
“You’ve gotta dress up,” Drake agrees, taking several ID cards from newly arrived sixth graders.
“I do, do I?”
I ask Claire more than I do Drake, lifting a brow.
“Those are the rules of the holiday. I don’t make ‘em.” She lifts a shoulder. “Don’t come crying to us if one of the students makes fun of you.”
My body warms at her little tease, and I have to force myself to pay attention to my duty.
The three of us work in companionable conversation, mostly centered around students who are coming in and going out, and when we’re planning on taking a break for dinner.
“I definitely signed up for the free pizza,” Drake says, leaning back in the chair behind his table. He has removed the Sheriff’s hat and is playing with the badge.
“We literally get paid fifty bucks to sit at this table for a few hours, and you’re more concerned about pizza?” Claire chuckles.
I get paid one hundred, but that’s simply because I’m administration, and I have to be here after the event has wrapped up to make sure all of the students have been accounted for.
“I guess an extra fifty in my bank account won’t hurt,” Drake shrugs.
“Well, I can go and grab us pizza,” Claire offers. I was silently hoping that Drake would be the one to go, to leave Claire and I alone for a moment. The few times we’ve conversed have left me aching for more, and I don’t know what to do with that aside from seek it out, like she’s the high and I’m the addict.
There’s a weird grip around my heart, like a loosely tethered noose waiting to tighten when it comes to Claire. It’s an itch I’ve been both wanting to scratch and wanting to dismiss. Regardless, she stands to leave with our orders for pizza and leaves me alone with Drake.
“Okay, so they only had two slices of pepperoni left. I took one for the team, which means one of you owes me big time—shit!”
If I thought the sight of Claire in a pretty dress stole my breath, my lungs might as well cease to function at the sight of her in a tangled heap on the floor. Three plates of pizza are smeared across the tile—one face-down on the skirt of her dress. She is braced on her palms, like that’s where she caught herself. She looks stunned by the fall more than anything, but my heart feels like it’s on the outside of my chest.
“Woah! Benson! You okay?” Drake asks. But he barely moves to push his chair back, and I’m already to her.
“Mr. Lawson, could you please find the group of students who just stampeded through here? I’ll attend to Ms. Benson.”
I don’t recognize the voice that comes out of me.
“What about the tables?”
“Ms. Lucy is in the gym with Mr. Russo. Let her know that she’s needed out here. You can reach her on my walkie.”
I remove the walkie talkie from my belt clip without taking my eyes from Claire.
The more I assess, the less injury I see. She’s shocked and embarrassed more than anything. I still won’t be convinced until I can get her off this disgusting hallway floor. Without even thinking, I offer her my hand. She hesitates for only a moment before slipping hers into mine, and if I mishear that click when our palms lock together, then for once in my life, I want to be wrong.