Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“That was a long day,” Georgie mumbled as she dropped into a chair.
Poor woman. “Someone has to teach the freshmen.”
She leaned forward and dropped her forehead onto the table. “I’ll love them in a week, but every year I forget what the first day is like.”
“Sounds like giving birth,” said Latrelle Harper, the third member of our department.
He was staring into the open fridge and we both turned his way.
“What do you know about giving birth?” I asked.
“I know my wife hates me for the three months before and about two minutes after. Then the baby gives her a gassy grin and she likes me again. Two years later, memories of the pain are fully faded and she starts talking about having another one.”
This explained why they had five children under the age of twelve.
Georgie’s face scrunched in distaste. “I guess there are similarities. I just didn’t think that going from twenty-two to twenty-seven kids per class was going to make much of a difference. I was so wrong.”
If the incoming classes continued to grow at the current rate, the school would have to add more teachers. We couldn’t possibly handle thirty-plus students per classroom. Both students and faculty would lose in that scenario.
“How long until retirement?” said Freshman Science teacher Harvey St. Charles as he strolled into the room and dropped into the chair beside Georgie.
“You too?” she said. “Are they getting wilder or are we just old?”
“Speak for yourself,” he replied. “I’m only forty.”
Latrelle joined us at the table. “Didn’t we throw you a fortieth birthday party three years ago?”
Harvey leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, revealing the navy blue patches on the elbows of his plaid shirt. “That still doesn’t make me old.”
“But it does make you a liar,” I pointed out. “We can’t all get the upperclassmen. Think of it as taking one for the team.”
“And by team she means society as a whole.” Georgie rose from her chair. “I’m going home to have a tall glass of rosé, and a long soak with a good book.”
“You could always pull a Mary Jo,” Harvey said. “Bring the rosé to school and hide it in a flask in your desk.”
If only that wasn’t a firing offense. “We still have no proof she did that.”
Mary Joe Mathers carried a heavy Wednesday vibe about her. With the all black wardrobe, constant scowl, and ability to remain stone-faced in any situation, every student who ever took her Geometry class was scared to death of her. They also learned a ton despite the fear. Or maybe because of it.
Her sister, Nina, was a school secretary and the polar opposite, always smiling, ready with a laugh, and decked out daily in bright colors. I would never understand how the two grew up in the same family and turned out so drastically different.
Then again, maybe I could. I was the middle of five kids and my oldest brother and I couldn’t be more opposite. Though he qualified as an elder millennial, he had the attitude and outdated thinking of a full-fledged boomer.
“We’ll make this fast so you can get to practice,” Jacob Kim said as he stepped into the lounge with Bernice Swinzinski and Coach Collins on his heels. Bernice taught Ancient History and Anthropology, plus proctored the debate team.
“Hey, everyone,” he said to the gathering, “this is Trey Collins. You probably heard about him taking over as the head football coach. He’s also joined the Social Studies department taking on World History and Economics.”
Greetings were exchanged around the room with class subjects rattled off. When they got to me I waved away the introduction.
“We’ve met.”
“I heard,” Jacob said with a chuckle.
Dave Piper and Nancy Choi, both from the math department, walked in then, and Jacob moved on to introduce them to the coach, leaving me wondering what that chuckle was about.
Did he find the man nearly causing me bodily harm—twice—amusing?
Once everyone knew each other, a brief conversation took place between the coaches in the room, including Harvey St. Charles for baseball and Dave Piper from the softball team. Then Coach Collins headed off to practice and minutes later, the gathering dispersed with teachers heading back to their rooms or off to the faculty parking lot.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that,” Georgie said as we walked to our cars.
“Notice what?”
“The way he looked at you.”
So she caught the chuckle too. “What was that about? Jacob should know better than to think I’d find my encounters with Collins laughable.”
She lifted a tote higher onto her shoulder. “Not Jacob. Trey.”
“Coach Collins?”
“He was the only Trey in that room and you know it. I counted five glances.”
Being an author required a vivid imagination, but this bordered on delusional.
“You’re crazy. If anything, he was probably watching to see if I’d fall out of my chair.”
We each shoved one of the double doors open to step into the sunlight. “I know a look of interest when I see one,” she said, “and I saw five . You’ve intrigued him.”
“I’ve never intrigued a man in my life . You need to save these fantasies for your novels.”
I cut right, toward my car, and instead of cutting left to hers, Georgie followed me. “You can’t tell me you don’t find him attractive.”
Like a dog with a bone she was.
“Finding a person attractive and being attracted to them is not the same thing.” Stopping beside my Buick, I spun to face her. “You of all people know there’s more to attraction than looks alone. Can you really imagine me with a football coach? I’d rather walk on hot coals than watch, let alone talk about, sports. We’d have nothing in common.”
All of this was moot because Trey Collins could be any man and I’d feel the same way. Even if I wasn’t committed to being single, I’d never date a fellow teacher.
“You don’t know that,” Georgie said.
I unlocked the car and tossed my bag onto the passenger seat. “I don’t know what?”
“That you’d have nothing in common. Do you know that he not only did a dual major in history and education, but he has a master’s degree?”
I should have known she’d research him. “So he’s educated. So is every other teacher in our building, and you aren’t pushing me to date any of them.”
“None of them are single.”
That was not true. “Have you forgotten that you are single?”
Georgie shook her head and again lifted the sliding tote onto her shoulder. “I’m far too old for Coach Collins, and besides, I prefer my men on the leaner side.”
This was a pointless conversation, but I couldn’t help but wonder. “How do you know the coach is single?”
She shrugged. “I asked him.”
Oh, hell. “You did not.”
“I did too. We were having a nice chat in the cafeteria, and I asked if he had a significant other. He said no.”
“If you chose that moment to tell him I’m also single I’m never going to speak to you again.”
As if sensing danger, she stepped back. “I didn’t. That would have been too obvious.”
“But flat out asking him if he’s single isn’t obvious?” Reminding myself she meant well, I took a deep breath and unclenched my fists. “I know you love love, and I know you’re heart is in the right place. But by all that is holy, woman, let this go. I will concede that maybe, in some far off land, the universe has created a man for me. But I need you to hear me when I say I don’t want him .”
“Right now,” she added.
“Not ever,” I growled.
“You need to keep an open mind.”
Deciding to change tactics, I asked, “When was the last time you went on a date?”
“Last weekend.”
“I… What?”
She moved the tote to the other shoulder. “I go on dates all the time.”
How had this never come up? “Why haven’t you told me?”
With a quick head tilt, she said, “They’re just casual. I meet for coffee or at a bookstore. One time at the airport, but that was a weird situation.”
“The airport?” This sounded familiar. “Didn’t that happen in one of your books?”
“Of course. Where do you think I get my ideas? Everything is fodder for the stories, and when I get stuck, I line up a date.”
An uneasy feeling washed over me. “Have you put me in a book?”
She had the intelligence to look away. “No, of course, not.”
I wasn’t buying it. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Okay, fine. It was a throwaway secondary character, and I made you very witty.”
This described a lot of her characters. “Which book?”
Quickly backing away, she glanced at her wrist. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“You aren’t wearing a watch,” I pointed out.
“I promised Mom I’d stop by for dinner.”
“Your mom plays bingo tonight.”
Georgie picked up her pace. “I better get there before she leaves.” In full retreat mode, she offered a weak wave. “See you tomorrow.”
If I wanted to, I could probably wrestle the answer out of her, but there were too many phones around for that not to end up on social media somewhere. Going viral on the internet would be even worse than forced proximity with Trey Collins.
I had every intention of avoiding both scenarios.
A week later I was tempted to ask for a room change.
Avoiding the new coach was easy enough, but avoiding his adoring fans was impossible since they congregated outside of my room on a daily basis. And they weren’t all football players. Kids from every social group seemed to love him. Even faculty members hovered like groupies desperate for a glimpse of their favorite rock star.
What was the big deal?
Latrelle accused me of being jealous, which was ridiculous. Yes, I was popular with the students, and even had my own respectable group of dedicated followers. Mostly drama club kids, but also the bookworms and aspiring writers who appreciated my suggestions and advice.
That said, the last thing I wanted was fawning faculty members at my doorstep.
“Dr. Fabien is ready for you,” said Nina Mathers.
I had no idea why I’d been summoned to the principal’s office. Considering we were only a week into the school year, I couldn’t possibly have offended a parent already. During the orientation, I’d worked extra hard not to have a repeat of last year, when no less than three parents complained about what one called my haughty attitude.
Every parent thought their child was special, and in some specific way each of them were. At the same time, if every claim made by a parent at the start of the year was true, then I would have a room full of geniuses in every class, and that was never the case.
There were times during orientation, mostly later in the evening, when my ability to entertain these stories wore thin and a hint of skepticism slipped through the cracks. What was I supposed to do? I was only human.
“Have a seat, Lindsey,” Carole said as I entered the office. “How’s your year so far?”
Did I answer honestly, or tell her what she wanted to hear?
“I thought it was going well enough until I got summoned in here. So, Carole, tell me what I’ve done.”
Carole Fabien grew up four houses down from me and was my older sister Janet’s best friend. She was also probably the main reason I wasn’t fired before earning my tenure. With the presence of a politician, the personality of a pit bull, and the ability to mediate the most contentious of situations, Carole was uniquely qualified for her job. I wouldn’t say everyone liked her, but they definitely respected her.
She took a seat with an expression that let me know this was serious. “I’m happy to say you haven’t done anything. Yet. I called you in to talk about the drama club.”
I’d broken the news to Emma the day before that we would not be doing a musical this year. She hadn’t been happy, but even if she attempted to take the issue over my head, surely Carole wouldn’t interfere.
“What about the drama club?”
The heavy sigh put me on edge. “There’ve been some funding cuts.”
Oh, heck no. “You can’t get rid of my club.”
“I might not have a choice. Participation has been dropping over the last couple of years. The money that is available needs to be spent where it can have the most impact, and that means giving it to the programs that reach more students.”
“You think this club doesn’t have an impact? Five of my kids have gone on to college drama programs. One of them is already an understudy on Broadway. This isn’t some hobby group, Carole. The club makes a difference in these students’ lives.”
“I don’t want to see the club go any more than you do, but I have to make decisions that are best for the entire school.”
Rising from my seat, I leaned over the desk. “We even made money last year. Enough to cover the cost of all the set design materials.”
“And we lost money on the costumes,” she pointed out, green eyes locked on mine. “Even with the volunteers, we still had to buy the fabrics and accessories. The props. Then there’s the cost associated with buying the rights to the plays. I can’t justify those expenses for half a dozen kids.”
Pacing the small space, I racked my brain for a way to convince her. “Fine. Then we’ll get more kids involved.”
Carole sat back and crossed her arms. “How are you going to do that?”
Excellent question. “I already plan to change things up. We aren’t doing a musical this year.”
“That could lose you the kids you already have.”
I didn’t believe that. “Emma isn’t happy, but she won’t jump ship. This will give her a chance to show off her acting chops and not just her voice. It’ll also offer more opportunities for students less comfortable with singing and dancing. We’ve had previous club members drop out that I’m sure I can coax back in.”
She shook her head. “Even if you can make that happen, the club is still on the chopping block.”
Over my dead body. “You said yourself, it’s a numbers game. If I get enough students involved, then we deserve to keep going.” Her hesitation told me I was making ground. “Give us the chance to prove that we deserve the funding.”
Rising to her feet, she stepped around the desk. “I’ll do what I can to at least let you keep going through this first semester, but I can’t promise anything beyond that.”
So if we wanted to do a play in the spring, we’d need to put on the best fall show of our lives. Challenge accepted.
“I’ll get the numbers up. You’ll see.”
“Like I said, I can’t promise anything beyond this fall.”
That was all I needed. “We’ll earn the funding.”
More determined than ever, I strolled toward the exit when she said, “Lindsey.”
I turned with my hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”
“Good luck.”
With a nod, I walked out, knowing I was going to need more than luck. I was going to need a miracle.