Page 49 of Pin-up Girl

Brodie spent an extra few seconds facing the jars in the row he’d just finished, until they lined up like a well-trained drill team. “Well, yeah, but I meant after this.”

I wanted to believe he was being genuine. The guy I knew back in the day didn’t know how to do any conversation besides honest. Then again, teenage Brodie hadn’t been great at any small talk, it was one of the things I’d adored about him.

Between teaching teenagers and my divorce, my bullshit detector had become finely honed over the last few years, and he was up to something he hadn’t revealed yet. For now, he wasn’t causing any harm, so I’d watch cautiously to see if he tipped his hand.

“I have dance practice.” Dee finished her tasks and climbed onto the closest table to sit on the edge, instead of using a chair.

“Do you like to dance?” Brodie asked.

Dee hesitated.

I was seeing this more and more with her.

Her smile rushed in, bright as if she was on stage. “It’s my favorite thing ever. I can’t dance right now because I’m sick, but if I go to practice, I’ll still see the new things they learn, so I’m not too far behind.”

When Dee opened her mouth and her mother’s voice came out, it concerned me.

“Dad, I’m bored.” She kicked her legs back and forth, letting her heels hit the wooden sides of the high chemistry counter.

I paused in my work to pull a few bills from my wallet. “Now’s a good time for a break. Go get us some sodas and chips.”

Dee hopped down before I finished talking, and sprinted to me. “Okay. What do you want, B?”

“What are my choices?”

“Same choices as the last time you were here,” I said. “Coke. Orange flavored. Chips in a random assortment.”

Brodie furrowed his brow. “They’re the literal same drinks and chips aren’t they?”

“They might be. It’s the same vending machine. Though, I’m pretty sure legally they have to swap the contents out at least once a decade.” I wasn’t going to joke with him. I wasn’t getting pulled into easy conversation.

Dee huffed. “They sell stuff all the time. Of course it’s not the same food as back in the dinosaur ages.”

Thank God for kids, keeping me on track.

“Orange soda and Cheetos,” Brodie said.

No. That wasn’t right. He hated getting orange dust on his fingers. “We don’t have any chopsticks.”

“You have disposable gloves.” Brodie nodded at the cabinets.

Dee laughed. She’d find out soon enough that he was serious. She ran out of the room, and I called after her, “No running in the halls.”

“Okay.” She yelled back.

The sound of her sneakers slapping tile didn’t change.

Brodie set his gloves aside in a decontaminate box, and washed his hands, before grabbing a pair of disposable gloves. He snapped one of them. “Remind you of anything?” His voice was light.

We’d done so many things we weren’t supposed to back then, and more than one of them involved rubber gloves. I wasn’t getting drawn into whatever this was. “Reminds me we’ll be dissecting frogs in fourth period in October.”

Chemistry was my jam, but I was the science teacher. We only had the one, so I covered all disciplines.

“I feel like we haven’t gotten a chance to catch up since I’ve been back.” Now Brodie was getting to it.

I’d break him before he broke me. “You know what I’ve been up to, I know what you’ve been up to. There. Caught up.”

“Did I do something to offend you?”

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