All Things Pretty
Page 33
I give her my biggest, cheesiest smile and start the engine, cutting off any reply she might’ve made.
We’re both quiet on the way to get Travis. Just the sound of the radio playing softly between us. Damn, I enjoy the hell out of this woman.
When we arrive at the school, Travis hasn’t appeared yet. I shift into park just as he hits the double doors, head down as always, and starts down the steps. I see his head jerk up and he turns. A guy comes out after him. He’s carrying what looks like Travis’s backpack. He walks to the step above Travis and hands him his bag. He says something to him that looks to be in confidence. His lips barely move and his face is devoid of expression. Travis nods and the guy claps his shoulder congenially a couple of times and then turns back to the school.
“Who’s that?” I ask Tommi, still watching Travis. His posture is stiff. Stiffer than usual. I can’t see his face since his head is down again, hat pulled low, hood up.
“That’s Travis’s special needs teacher, Mr. Chaps. His home room and his last period of the day.”
As Travis approaches the curb, I yell from the window. “Over here, Travis.”
He raises his head only enough to spot me and then drops it again as he makes his way toward us. “Is he always like this?”
“For the most part. Some days are worse than others.”
Tommi gets out and opens the door for Travis. He hops in without a word, throwing his bag onto the seat beside him and slumping down until his chin nearly rests on his chest.
“How was your day?”
“Shitty.”
“Must’ve been. You never forget your backpack. You never let that thing out of your sight.”
Travis grunts. I glance at the backpack in question, noting the blue zippers.
“Is that even yours, Travis? I thought the zippers on your back pack were green.”
“What the hell do you know, joker? It’s mine. Do you think I’m too stupid to recognize my own shit?”
I raise my hands and turn back around. “No offense, man. Just trying to help.”
Travis looks sulkily out the window and I shift into drive as soon as Tommi is buckled in.
After we are away from the school, I try again. “Thought we’d go to a place I found a couple of weeks ago and play a game. You up for it?”
“I just wanna go home.”
“Come on, Travis. It’ll be fun,” Tommi adds enthusiastically.
“I said I just wanna go home. Damn!”
“Language,” Tommi chastises gently.
“It’s fine, Tommi. I doubt he’s in the mood to have his ass handed to him anyway.”
If he’s got a shred of teenage testosterone flowing through those veins, that’ll get him quicker than two hours of pleading and cajoling.
“What?” he snaps, his hateful eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
“I’ve got a football and a muddy field lined up as an excuse for me to whip your ass. But if you’re not man enough to handle it…”
“I’m stronger than you think, dickhole.”
“Oh yeah? Care to prove it on the field?”
“Fine,” he says begrudgingly.
In my peripheral vision, I see Tommi turn to face forward, her chest rising and falling with a silent sigh. Probably of relief. “You can just wear your gym clothes, okay?”
Travis shrugs.
As I’m taking them to a place that my brothers and I used to go to play touch football as kids, my eyes fall on Travis’s backpack again. I’m absolutely sure the zippers were green this morning. I watched him play with one of them. But a few days ago, I saw them as blue. Plus, why get so defensive? And why doesn’t he let it out of his sight, like Tommi says?
My gut instincts, my internal antennae twitch with suspicion. What if the teacher is involved? What if Travis is involved? That might explain why Tommi stays with Tonin. And that would explain why it’s so hard to find out how Tonin moves a bulk that we can’t find. Maybe he’s not holding it.
My mind puts possible pieces of a plausible puzzle together. Plausible yes, but plausible doesn’t matter if it can’t be proven.
As soon as we arrive at the field, I cut the engine and turn to Tommi. “The ball’s in the back. I’m gonna text Barber real quick. Let him know you’re sleeping so he can pass that along to Tonin.”
She nods and gets out, letting Travis out before closing the door and heading around to the back of the truck. I eye the backpack again, wondering if there’s anything in it besides books and shit right now. Not that it matters. I can’t look without getting busted, but what I can do is text in to the department for a background check and maybe a tail on the teacher. So that’s exactly what I do.
********
Tommi and Travis wait by the front of the truck until I get out. I snatch the ball from her hands and nod to Travis. “You can change in the truck if you wanna.” I look to Tommi. “You did say he has gym clothes, right?”
She nods and Travis turns back to the truck, totally unenthusiastic.
“This’ll be good for him,” I tell Tommi, tossing the ball in the air with a spin and catching it again.
“How is this even going to work? With three of us?”
“You two against me.”
“That’s hardly fair.”
“You’re a girl. And he’s a kid.”
“And?”
“And I’m me.”
“Oh god!” she says with a roll of her eyes.
I laugh, doing my best to keep the mood light. “Admit it, you just want an excuse to tackle me.”
“I most certainly do not.”
“Well, damn. ‘Cause that’s half the reason I’m doing this.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
I smile down into her eyes, wishing I could kiss her right here, right now, and then carry her over into the mud and strip her clothes off. Pound her down into the wet dirt. Streak her body with my fingerprints. Mark her in a way that I can see. Shit!
Of course, her brother’s here. That’s a downer.
When he mopes back to us, dressed in shorts that hang past his knees and a shirt nearly that long, I throw the ball at his stomach. He fumbles to catch it.
“Not off to a very good start, but I’m willing to give you a chance,” I tease. “So, who’s played touch football?” Both of them just stare. “This ought to be interesting.”
We’re both quiet on the way to get Travis. Just the sound of the radio playing softly between us. Damn, I enjoy the hell out of this woman.
When we arrive at the school, Travis hasn’t appeared yet. I shift into park just as he hits the double doors, head down as always, and starts down the steps. I see his head jerk up and he turns. A guy comes out after him. He’s carrying what looks like Travis’s backpack. He walks to the step above Travis and hands him his bag. He says something to him that looks to be in confidence. His lips barely move and his face is devoid of expression. Travis nods and the guy claps his shoulder congenially a couple of times and then turns back to the school.
“Who’s that?” I ask Tommi, still watching Travis. His posture is stiff. Stiffer than usual. I can’t see his face since his head is down again, hat pulled low, hood up.
“That’s Travis’s special needs teacher, Mr. Chaps. His home room and his last period of the day.”
As Travis approaches the curb, I yell from the window. “Over here, Travis.”
He raises his head only enough to spot me and then drops it again as he makes his way toward us. “Is he always like this?”
“For the most part. Some days are worse than others.”
Tommi gets out and opens the door for Travis. He hops in without a word, throwing his bag onto the seat beside him and slumping down until his chin nearly rests on his chest.
“How was your day?”
“Shitty.”
“Must’ve been. You never forget your backpack. You never let that thing out of your sight.”
Travis grunts. I glance at the backpack in question, noting the blue zippers.
“Is that even yours, Travis? I thought the zippers on your back pack were green.”
“What the hell do you know, joker? It’s mine. Do you think I’m too stupid to recognize my own shit?”
I raise my hands and turn back around. “No offense, man. Just trying to help.”
Travis looks sulkily out the window and I shift into drive as soon as Tommi is buckled in.
After we are away from the school, I try again. “Thought we’d go to a place I found a couple of weeks ago and play a game. You up for it?”
“I just wanna go home.”
“Come on, Travis. It’ll be fun,” Tommi adds enthusiastically.
“I said I just wanna go home. Damn!”
“Language,” Tommi chastises gently.
“It’s fine, Tommi. I doubt he’s in the mood to have his ass handed to him anyway.”
If he’s got a shred of teenage testosterone flowing through those veins, that’ll get him quicker than two hours of pleading and cajoling.
“What?” he snaps, his hateful eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
“I’ve got a football and a muddy field lined up as an excuse for me to whip your ass. But if you’re not man enough to handle it…”
“I’m stronger than you think, dickhole.”
“Oh yeah? Care to prove it on the field?”
“Fine,” he says begrudgingly.
In my peripheral vision, I see Tommi turn to face forward, her chest rising and falling with a silent sigh. Probably of relief. “You can just wear your gym clothes, okay?”
Travis shrugs.
As I’m taking them to a place that my brothers and I used to go to play touch football as kids, my eyes fall on Travis’s backpack again. I’m absolutely sure the zippers were green this morning. I watched him play with one of them. But a few days ago, I saw them as blue. Plus, why get so defensive? And why doesn’t he let it out of his sight, like Tommi says?
My gut instincts, my internal antennae twitch with suspicion. What if the teacher is involved? What if Travis is involved? That might explain why Tommi stays with Tonin. And that would explain why it’s so hard to find out how Tonin moves a bulk that we can’t find. Maybe he’s not holding it.
My mind puts possible pieces of a plausible puzzle together. Plausible yes, but plausible doesn’t matter if it can’t be proven.
As soon as we arrive at the field, I cut the engine and turn to Tommi. “The ball’s in the back. I’m gonna text Barber real quick. Let him know you’re sleeping so he can pass that along to Tonin.”
She nods and gets out, letting Travis out before closing the door and heading around to the back of the truck. I eye the backpack again, wondering if there’s anything in it besides books and shit right now. Not that it matters. I can’t look without getting busted, but what I can do is text in to the department for a background check and maybe a tail on the teacher. So that’s exactly what I do.
********
Tommi and Travis wait by the front of the truck until I get out. I snatch the ball from her hands and nod to Travis. “You can change in the truck if you wanna.” I look to Tommi. “You did say he has gym clothes, right?”
She nods and Travis turns back to the truck, totally unenthusiastic.
“This’ll be good for him,” I tell Tommi, tossing the ball in the air with a spin and catching it again.
“How is this even going to work? With three of us?”
“You two against me.”
“That’s hardly fair.”
“You’re a girl. And he’s a kid.”
“And?”
“And I’m me.”
“Oh god!” she says with a roll of her eyes.
I laugh, doing my best to keep the mood light. “Admit it, you just want an excuse to tackle me.”
“I most certainly do not.”
“Well, damn. ‘Cause that’s half the reason I’m doing this.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
I smile down into her eyes, wishing I could kiss her right here, right now, and then carry her over into the mud and strip her clothes off. Pound her down into the wet dirt. Streak her body with my fingerprints. Mark her in a way that I can see. Shit!
Of course, her brother’s here. That’s a downer.
When he mopes back to us, dressed in shorts that hang past his knees and a shirt nearly that long, I throw the ball at his stomach. He fumbles to catch it.
“Not off to a very good start, but I’m willing to give you a chance,” I tease. “So, who’s played touch football?” Both of them just stare. “This ought to be interesting.”
