Chapter 10 Game On #2
Cooper had a sense of humor and a competitive streak. The ice wasn’t fully melted, but I was starting to see cracks that gave me a little hope. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face for the rest of the day.
On Thursday, I wished Miriam a friendly “good morning” before making a beeline to the front of the classroom.
As expected, there were no markers in the whiteboard tray, but this time, the sight made my heart swell.
The games were still on. I plopped down in the chair and yanked open the drawer with the marker stash.
An ugly, brown spider the size of my fist sat on the pile of markers. I shrieked bloody murder and reared back so hard that the chair nearly fell over.
“Ms. Burke, are you okay?” Sweet Miriam was the first to rush forward to check on me.
Unfortunately, she also screamed when she saw the spider, prompting David Masterson to abandon his morning nap and investigate. In the time it took me to catch my breath, half a dozen students gathered around the drawer.
David retrieved the spider, which upon closer inspection was clearly made of rubber. He brandished it around the crowd to giggles and eye rolls. Poor Miriam was blushing furiously, and my heart felt tight in my chest, mortified for both of us.
“This is from Mr. Cooper, isn’t it?” David said, presenting the faux arachnid to me.
“Um… shit,” I cursed under my breath to the delight of the students within hearing distance. The class knew. Four days in, and I had already violated one of my rules for engagement. It was a good thing I was running a classroom and not an asylum with so little control.
David was grinning from ear to ear, eating up the various emotions as they cycled across my face. “Don’t worry, Ms. Burke. We’ve got you. Whatever you need. We’ll get him back.”
Several other students nodded with enthusiasm.
They were completely on board with a little teacher-versus-teacher warfare.
This was the most excited I had ever seen them in my classroom.
It was completely exhilarating. And completely inappropriate.
I hated to dampen their zeal, but they could not get involved.
“No, no, no,” I insisted, waving my hands as if I could wipe away the offer as easily as an error on the whiteboard. “I can’t have you all getting mixed up with… whatever this is.”
“We could though,” Miriam said to me, though her eyes were on David. Did I detect a crush?
I huffed a weak laugh and shook my head. “Thank you, sincerely. But no. This is between me and Mr. Cooper. And I’d appreciate it if no one mentioned this.”
It was hard to focus through my lesson. Halogens were lots of fun—a highly reactive set of elements with some interesting color changing properties—but even as I wandered between the rows of benches, monitoring the students while they performed a simple displacement experiment, I couldn’t help but think about what might happen when the bell finally rang, and I had to face Cooper.
The marker hiding had been ambiguous. It might be considered playful, but not necessarily. The spider, on the other hand, was obviously meant to be a prank, especially when I considered his little note on my Einstein. He’d said “game on,” and now, he was playing.
Maybe he wasn't a stone statue after all.
Maybe there was a bit of a personality under the khaki and tweed.
Though, I supposed I already knew that. He had carried my two heavy bags up two flights of stairs that first day.
And TJ and the hens all seemed to like him.
And his students loved him, if what the October Lovers said was anything to go by.
But after more than a few arguments, this felt like the first time that I had personally been on the receiving end of something that could be vaguely considered friendly since that first day. Or at least friendly if you tilted your head and squinted.
Even though I had been waiting for it, the shrill peal of the bell still sent a shock through my body. My knees turned into jelly, and I leaned back on the edge of the teachers desk, knuckles turning white as I gripped it for support.
Cooper was through the door a moment later looking relaxed and completely unbothered.
He smiled and greeted students, not looking at me as he approached the front of the room.
He wasn’t watching me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.
His perfect ease with the students had my heart climbing into my throat.
Time seemed to slow as his gaze finally landed on me. I tried to swallow, but my heart stayed stuck in my throat.
“Good morning,” he said. Was I crazy, or did his voice seem lower than usual?
His words cut through my paralysis, and I could finally move. I stood up straighter, brushed a lock of hair over my shoulder, and pasted a wide smile on my face.
“Good morning,” I chirped. “I found your little surprise.”
His smirk broadened into a grin. “Did you, now?”
“Yes,” I said. “I left it where I found it. If you want it back.”
He just looked at me, eyes shining. For the first time, I felt like I was finally seeing him, seeing the Cooper that everyone else saw.
And I was completely taken in. All of the sudden, I wanted him to like me more than ever.
I wanted to break him open, not to break him down, but to see how he ticked.
Cooper shrugged, either oblivious to my predicament or politely ignoring it.
“Nah, I left it for you. I want you to have it.”
I huffed a laugh. “Wow. I didn’t know you were so generous.”
“I can be generous.”
We both froze. Was that… an innuendo? Was it intentional? Were we flirting? A wave of heat flowed up my chest and neck, and I knew that my face must be flooding with color. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out, so I did what I always did—smiled.
Our gazes held for another second. Two seconds. A fucking eternity. And then, as if in mutual agreement, we both abruptly turned away.
I snatched up my bag and fled the room without a backward glance.
I had planned on spending my second period break reviewing my next lesson plan, but as I sat heavily on the stone bench outside of Franklin Hall, I knew I would be spending the next hour thinking about Cooper and trying to figure out what had changed.
After fifty-five minutes of postmortem dissection, I reached two conclusions.
One—I couldn’t let things end there with Cooper.
I had just gotten him to start opening up to me.
I didn’t want to lose all of the progress we had made and go back to square one.
I needed to keep going. I needed to come up with a new prank, and quickly.
Two—the cat was out of the bag with my students.
They absolutely knew that Cooper had played a practical joke on me, and they were also completely fine with it.
I still did not want them getting involved, but having their support meant that I could take my pranks up a notch.
That little fact opened up a whole new world of prank opportunities, assuming they really could be trusted to look the other way.
That doubt was confirmed the following morning when David, showing more energy than I had ever seen from him, demanded to know what my plans were for Cooper. I laughed, relieved, and assured him and the rest of the class that I had a few ideas.
The students were all sworn to secrecy, but they reveled in seeing what Cooper and I did next, as well as making their own recommendations.
I had to shoot down someone’s idea to mislabel all of the reagents—a huge safety hazard—but I loved the babyproof locks on every cabinet that could only be opened with a special magnetic key.
They didn’t know that I had already procured hundreds of googly eyes and planned to apply them to every piece of glassware in the storage closet over my lunch break.