Page 12 of Breaker

4

Quinn – 25 Years Old

I quickly finish putting the paint pots on the desks so they’re ready for my five-year-olds.

Two years into the job, and I still love it.

Despite my being the youngest here, the staff have been welcoming, and the children are amazing in their own little ways. Watching their eyes light up when they get something right is the best feeling.

I grab the paint tins and start putting the lids on. The school buys them in bulk instead of the squeezy bottles, which can sometimes be annoying—the things are heavy.

I put the lid on the yellow paint as my phone buzzes in my pocket, making me furrow my brow before I check the ID. I swallow hard, seeing it's Momma, who probably wants me around for dinner to celebrate her birthday.

I feel bad but silence the buzz and place the phone back in my pocket. I sent her a gift yesterday, so that should be enough. Since she and Jack tried to ambush me, I barely see them. I've had about three meals with them in the past two years, and there’s the odd phone call here and there. Our relationship fractured. I know I should act like the adult I am, but the hurt is deep; in my head, I'm still that little girl.

I sigh, grabbing the red paint lid and putting it on. The kids will be here soon, and within the next few seconds, I can guarantee my phone will buzz again, and I know my brother will try to guilt-trip me.

That's another call I will be ignoring.

Right on cue, as I put the lid on the paint, my phone buzzes, and yes, I ignore it, grabbing the next paint lid, hoping he only calls once. That hope is dashed; as soon as the buzzing stops, it starts again.

With a sigh, I grab my phone and cancel the call before putting it on silent. I put my cell away in my bag, ready to put the other two paint lids on before the kids come in, not needing them to knock them over. Before I can finish, someone knocks on my door. I turn to see Andrew leaning against the door frame and I wince internally.

I give him a fake smile. "Hi, Mr. Collins, what can I do for you?"

The man is relentless. He's nearly fifteen years older than me, yet he keeps trying to get me to get a drink with him, which is not happening. I can't get rid of the man. He teaches fifth grade on the opposite side of the school, yet always seems to find himself here.

"It's Andrew, darling. Mr. Collins seems too formal," he says with a smirk, trying to be sexy. Yeah, he's not bad looking, with black hair going silver on the sides, and gray eyes, but he's also a womanizer.

The man has screwed half the teachers, including the married ones.

"Morning, Mith ‘Anders…." I smile at Zachery as he rushes past Andrew. Most kids cannot pronounce their S's, so to many, I'm Anders.

Jessie and Shauna, the twin girls, come in next, rushing toward me and giving me a hug, before taking their bags to the little cubbies at the back of the room. Four more students follow, including little Noah. Now, I know I shouldn't have a favorite child, and normally, I don't, but Noah is different. As soon as I met him a few weeks ago with his Grams, I recognized him and those eyes.

He was the little cutie who dropped his elephant with the asshole dad.

He's a little firecracker who hates it when men talk to me, even if it's a student's father. He'll subtly try to get my attention or push between myself and the person I'm talking to, including accidentally standing on the other person's feet.

It's odd, that's for sure.

Noah runs to me, giving me a big hug and a daffodil, making me grin before he takes his bag to his cubby.

Andrew clears his throat, making me realize he's still there instead of in his classroom.

He asks, "So tonight, I was wondering if you'd like to get a drink with me and see where the night goes?"

See where the night goes? Seriously?

I go to open my mouth to say “thanks, but no thanks”again,when paint is flung across his pant leg, making him gasp as Noah jumps back. I stare in shock. Andrew curses, making the little tykes in the class gasp in shock. Andrew steps to the side but slips on the paint, falling on his ass with a loud thump.

I completely freeze. I want to laugh, I also want to scold, but I'm just frozen in place.

I see movement in the corner of my eye and notice Noah going for the dark green paint to add to the pink paint on Andrew. I quickly snap out of my shock, ignoring the kids’ laughter behind me, and jump forward to grab the paint. Still, I'm not quick enough. He grabs it, and then tips it upside down on top of Andrews's head, making the man shout in horror, all while I stare, eyes wide and mouth open.

Holy….

I blink, rush to Noah, and gently pull him away, knowing I need to deal with him once Andrew is okay.

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