Not So Nice Guy
Page 6
She pushes me playfully, turns to the kid on duty, and tells him I’ll be buying her three scoops of chocolate-chocolate-chip ice cream with rainbow sprinkles on top.
“In a waffle cone—oh, and with a cherry on top!” she adds, turning to face me. “Impressed?”
The next morning, I wait for Sam outside the main conference room. We have a staff meeting with the rest of the upperclassmen teachers. Today, Sam’s wearing a delicate yellow dress. I flick the lapel.
“Very prim and proper.”
“Uh huh, save it. You hate this dress. The last time I wore it, you told me I looked like I was headed to my first day of kindergarten.”
I did tell her that, but it was because it looked so good I needed to keep her from wearing it again, for my sake, and that of all of Oak Hill’s male staff members.
These staff meetings are brutal, and Sam and I usually end up passing the time by playing tic-tac-toe underneath the table. We’ve only been caught twice. Now we’re more careful.
Today, George, our vice principal, is running the show, and it takes him 15 minutes to get everyone to quiet down. He started teaching the same time we did, but he turned administrative when a well-paying position opened up. Deep down we all know he’s just one of us, though. As a result, he’s never really commanded the respect he deserves.
Like right now, he’s trying to get volunteers to run a sex-ed course. They usually do this sort of thing in middle school, but apparently the district thinks our upperclassmen are in need of a refresher course.
No one offers their assistance, and then Sam’s arm shoots into the air.
“Why doesn’t Ian run it? He can present the abstinence portion based on firsthand experience—or lack thereof.”
Everyone laughs and I smile good-naturedly. One of the PE teachers catches my eye, positions her hand like a telephone against her ear, and mouths, Call me.
George frowns. “Very funny, Ms. Abrams. Still, I’ll take the recommendation. Ian, you’ll head the course. Would anyone else like to volunteer to help him?”
Every hand attached to a single female teacher hits the air except Sam’s. The PE teacher puts both her hands up and shakes them wildly.
George grins. “Well, what a wonderful sight to see so many eager beavers this morning!”
“Literally,” Sam whispers to me.
I smile.
“Tell you what, I’ll just leave it up to Ian to decide who he’d like to accompany him during the course.”
There are audible groans as everyone realizes at once who I will drag down with me.
Sam tells me my Cheshire grin is unbecoming.
3
S A M
At the end of the staff meeting, Ian and I stand at the same time. Today, in my flats, I make it to the middle of his bicep. I’m made aware of this when we try to move around one another and my nose smashes against muscle. It hurts as much as if I’d just walked into a brick wall.
“Ow, Jesus.”
He reaches out to stabilize me and I stare intently at his chest before wriggling free.
No. There can be no touching, not if I’m expected to maintain the status quo: friends, with a capital F.
“Ms. Abrams, may I have a word with you?” George asks from the front of the conference room.
I don’t know who he’s kidding with all the formality. I’ve seen him shotgun light beer after an intramural kickball game.
Ian mumbles something about my yellow dress I don’t quite hear.
“What was that?”
He shakes his head. “Want me to wait with you?”
I smile. “Think I’m in big trouble for the abstinence comment?”
“Either that or we’re busted for tic-tac-toe again. You shouldn’t have thrust your fist in the air after that last game.”
“I’d just won the third and final sudden-death showdown. What was I supposed to do? Win with grace and aplomb?”
“Aplomb? You humanities teachers use the most bizarre words.”
“Ms. Abrams?” George calls impatiently.
Ian tugs on the end of my loose braid. “Good luck. Don’t hesitate to bribe him with a case of Natty Light.”
I feign a look of grave concern. “Okay, and I’ll tell him tic-tac-toe was your idea.”
Turns out, I’m not in trouble. George has a task for me.
“As you’ve probably heard, Jen is going on maternity leave earlier than expected, so her long-term sub is arriving tomorrow morning. I’d like you to show her around, y’know, give her the lay of the land.”
I hiss. “Oh man, wish I could, but I’m on carpool duty.”
His time as an administrator has clearly taught him some tricks, because he’s already prepared for my go-to excuse. “I’ve already got someone covering for you this week and next.”
I grin, flipping through my rolodex of get-out-of-jail-free cards. “Ooh, I could use that time to prepare for the sex-ed thing—”
“Prepare? All the material comes from the state. You’re just there to put a condom on a banana and answer questions.”
My brain trips up, and I run out of options. You win this round, George.
“Fine. What’s the sub’s name?”
“Ashley. I’ll tell her to meet you at 7:30 tomorrow morning.”
True to his word, the long-term sub is waiting for me outside the main office bright and early. She’s overdressed in a black blazer with matching pencil skirt. She looks like she’s going to represent me in a Supreme Court case. Looks wise, I can’t help but notice that she’d fit right in among Ian’s old girlfriends. Blonde and tall, there’s no way she’s a day over twenty-three.
Apparently, she thinks the same about me, only younger.
“Excuse me, student, do you know where I can find Ms. Abrams?”
When I tell her who I am, she blushes at her blunder.
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. It’s just, you’re so…petite.”
I straighten my shoulders. For the record, I’m not that little.
“Right, well, I’m supposed to give you a tour, so let’s get going.”
The high school is massive, and it’s easy to get lost. I decide to keep it simple and avoid places like the band hall and theater room. She’ll never remember it all, so I just stick to what’s important.
“That’s the server room. The campus IT guy sells weed out of it, I’ve heard.” We turn down another hallway. “And here’s the art room. You’ll notice that the art supply room smells a lot like the server room,” I hint with a wink and a nudge.
Ashley’s childlike eyes widen, and I think maybe I should have taken her to the band hall instead. She looks horrified.
“Err, just kidding. Come on, I’ll take you to your classroom.”
Our tour is over pretty quick, but it’s not so easy to shake Ashley. At lunch, she’s at my classroom door waiting for me. She’s ditched her black jacket and looks marginally less stuffy. In her hand is a monogrammed Vera Bradley lunchbox.
“Mind if I eat lunch with you?”
I know Ian will groan when he walks in and finds her at our table. He hates new additions, thinks they mess with the sacred casualness of the lounge. Still, I shrug and smile. “Sure thing.”
When we arrive, I take my seat and start lining up my food. Today’s provisions include leftover spaghetti, green beans, and half a Hershey’s bar. We’ll fight over the chocolate for sure.
Ashley’s hand hits my arm and she pinches hard. “Oh my god, who is that guy?”
I don’t know who she’s referring to because my focus is on her fingers. She’s about to tear my skin off. I extricate my arm and sooth the ache. All the while, Ashley straightens her shoulders and fluffs her hair. Her finger brushes against her front teeth to confirm nothing is lodged there and then she smiles extra wide. I follow her gaze and find Ian over in line for the microwave. It looks like he brought leftover spaghetti too. That’s what happens when we eat the same dinners most nights.
“Is he a teacher?” she asks, all breathy and bothered. She sounds like she’s having a hot flash.
“That’s just Ian.”
“In a waffle cone—oh, and with a cherry on top!” she adds, turning to face me. “Impressed?”
The next morning, I wait for Sam outside the main conference room. We have a staff meeting with the rest of the upperclassmen teachers. Today, Sam’s wearing a delicate yellow dress. I flick the lapel.
“Very prim and proper.”
“Uh huh, save it. You hate this dress. The last time I wore it, you told me I looked like I was headed to my first day of kindergarten.”
I did tell her that, but it was because it looked so good I needed to keep her from wearing it again, for my sake, and that of all of Oak Hill’s male staff members.
These staff meetings are brutal, and Sam and I usually end up passing the time by playing tic-tac-toe underneath the table. We’ve only been caught twice. Now we’re more careful.
Today, George, our vice principal, is running the show, and it takes him 15 minutes to get everyone to quiet down. He started teaching the same time we did, but he turned administrative when a well-paying position opened up. Deep down we all know he’s just one of us, though. As a result, he’s never really commanded the respect he deserves.
Like right now, he’s trying to get volunteers to run a sex-ed course. They usually do this sort of thing in middle school, but apparently the district thinks our upperclassmen are in need of a refresher course.
No one offers their assistance, and then Sam’s arm shoots into the air.
“Why doesn’t Ian run it? He can present the abstinence portion based on firsthand experience—or lack thereof.”
Everyone laughs and I smile good-naturedly. One of the PE teachers catches my eye, positions her hand like a telephone against her ear, and mouths, Call me.
George frowns. “Very funny, Ms. Abrams. Still, I’ll take the recommendation. Ian, you’ll head the course. Would anyone else like to volunteer to help him?”
Every hand attached to a single female teacher hits the air except Sam’s. The PE teacher puts both her hands up and shakes them wildly.
George grins. “Well, what a wonderful sight to see so many eager beavers this morning!”
“Literally,” Sam whispers to me.
I smile.
“Tell you what, I’ll just leave it up to Ian to decide who he’d like to accompany him during the course.”
There are audible groans as everyone realizes at once who I will drag down with me.
Sam tells me my Cheshire grin is unbecoming.
3
S A M
At the end of the staff meeting, Ian and I stand at the same time. Today, in my flats, I make it to the middle of his bicep. I’m made aware of this when we try to move around one another and my nose smashes against muscle. It hurts as much as if I’d just walked into a brick wall.
“Ow, Jesus.”
He reaches out to stabilize me and I stare intently at his chest before wriggling free.
No. There can be no touching, not if I’m expected to maintain the status quo: friends, with a capital F.
“Ms. Abrams, may I have a word with you?” George asks from the front of the conference room.
I don’t know who he’s kidding with all the formality. I’ve seen him shotgun light beer after an intramural kickball game.
Ian mumbles something about my yellow dress I don’t quite hear.
“What was that?”
He shakes his head. “Want me to wait with you?”
I smile. “Think I’m in big trouble for the abstinence comment?”
“Either that or we’re busted for tic-tac-toe again. You shouldn’t have thrust your fist in the air after that last game.”
“I’d just won the third and final sudden-death showdown. What was I supposed to do? Win with grace and aplomb?”
“Aplomb? You humanities teachers use the most bizarre words.”
“Ms. Abrams?” George calls impatiently.
Ian tugs on the end of my loose braid. “Good luck. Don’t hesitate to bribe him with a case of Natty Light.”
I feign a look of grave concern. “Okay, and I’ll tell him tic-tac-toe was your idea.”
Turns out, I’m not in trouble. George has a task for me.
“As you’ve probably heard, Jen is going on maternity leave earlier than expected, so her long-term sub is arriving tomorrow morning. I’d like you to show her around, y’know, give her the lay of the land.”
I hiss. “Oh man, wish I could, but I’m on carpool duty.”
His time as an administrator has clearly taught him some tricks, because he’s already prepared for my go-to excuse. “I’ve already got someone covering for you this week and next.”
I grin, flipping through my rolodex of get-out-of-jail-free cards. “Ooh, I could use that time to prepare for the sex-ed thing—”
“Prepare? All the material comes from the state. You’re just there to put a condom on a banana and answer questions.”
My brain trips up, and I run out of options. You win this round, George.
“Fine. What’s the sub’s name?”
“Ashley. I’ll tell her to meet you at 7:30 tomorrow morning.”
True to his word, the long-term sub is waiting for me outside the main office bright and early. She’s overdressed in a black blazer with matching pencil skirt. She looks like she’s going to represent me in a Supreme Court case. Looks wise, I can’t help but notice that she’d fit right in among Ian’s old girlfriends. Blonde and tall, there’s no way she’s a day over twenty-three.
Apparently, she thinks the same about me, only younger.
“Excuse me, student, do you know where I can find Ms. Abrams?”
When I tell her who I am, she blushes at her blunder.
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. It’s just, you’re so…petite.”
I straighten my shoulders. For the record, I’m not that little.
“Right, well, I’m supposed to give you a tour, so let’s get going.”
The high school is massive, and it’s easy to get lost. I decide to keep it simple and avoid places like the band hall and theater room. She’ll never remember it all, so I just stick to what’s important.
“That’s the server room. The campus IT guy sells weed out of it, I’ve heard.” We turn down another hallway. “And here’s the art room. You’ll notice that the art supply room smells a lot like the server room,” I hint with a wink and a nudge.
Ashley’s childlike eyes widen, and I think maybe I should have taken her to the band hall instead. She looks horrified.
“Err, just kidding. Come on, I’ll take you to your classroom.”
Our tour is over pretty quick, but it’s not so easy to shake Ashley. At lunch, she’s at my classroom door waiting for me. She’s ditched her black jacket and looks marginally less stuffy. In her hand is a monogrammed Vera Bradley lunchbox.
“Mind if I eat lunch with you?”
I know Ian will groan when he walks in and finds her at our table. He hates new additions, thinks they mess with the sacred casualness of the lounge. Still, I shrug and smile. “Sure thing.”
When we arrive, I take my seat and start lining up my food. Today’s provisions include leftover spaghetti, green beans, and half a Hershey’s bar. We’ll fight over the chocolate for sure.
Ashley’s hand hits my arm and she pinches hard. “Oh my god, who is that guy?”
I don’t know who she’s referring to because my focus is on her fingers. She’s about to tear my skin off. I extricate my arm and sooth the ache. All the while, Ashley straightens her shoulders and fluffs her hair. Her finger brushes against her front teeth to confirm nothing is lodged there and then she smiles extra wide. I follow her gaze and find Ian over in line for the microwave. It looks like he brought leftover spaghetti too. That’s what happens when we eat the same dinners most nights.
“Is he a teacher?” she asks, all breathy and bothered. She sounds like she’s having a hot flash.
“That’s just Ian.”
