Page 43 of Between the Lines

Rocco tenses at the name, but obediently packs up all of his things. Contrary to my typical “avoiding parents in public” routine, I stand and follow him.

“Hi. You must be Rocco’s mother. I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Nathan Harding. Assistant principal?—”

“Yeah. We’ve talked on the phone. We’ve gotta go.”

I’m taken aback more than I’d like to admit at her abrasiveness, but let it roll off my shoulders. Rocco eyes me apologetically.

“Hey, Rocco?”

He pauses. His mother looks annoyed, but this is more important.

“I’ll email Mrs. Ford about getting you an extension on that assignment for tomorrow.”

“For real?”

“Absolutely. In fact, Ms. Benson is still floating this week. I’ll see if she can work with you tomorrow to get caught up.”

He grins and follows his mother, claiming his own victory in the same moment that I do—because I now have an excuse to talk to Claire tomorrow. My heart is pattering at the simple notion, and I have to will that feeling away, because I started this evening reminding myself of all the reasons to stay away, and ended it with another reason to get closer.

It isn’t until he’s completely gone from the library lounge that I realize how exhausted I truly am. I sit back at the table to reset the board before I start packing my things, but stop.

Right there, written in the black and white of the pieces left behind, I’ve left the king entirely at mercy to the queen.

twenty

claire

“I’m proud of you, buddy.”

“Proud enough for me to get one of them gummy bears?”

He indicates to the bag of snacks I always keep in my purse for myself. I roll my eyes and shove at Rocco’s backpack.

“No. Now go,” I chuckle.

With his completed worksheet, and a plan for the next assignment in mind, Rocco heads out of the study hall lounge. Without his company, I’m left buzzing with the reason he’s here in the first place.

Nathan.

There was an email with the subject lineRTin my inbox at eight-thirty last night. Of course, I’d read it then. Of course it was about a student, and not something likeRelaxation TimeorReallygreatTitties.Hey. A girl can dream, right?

Please meet in my office tomorrow morning at 7:15 to discuss next moves with Rocco Thatcher.

Regards,

Mr. Nathan Harding

In my last week as a floater, I’ve done several different odd jobs. I’ve been an emergency substitute, pulled cafeteria duty, and been the copy and lamination bitch. I’ve also tutored and helped as an aide. For all of those positions, Nathan simply emailed me.Tuesday Assignment: 8thgrade science. Wednesday Assignment: 6thgrade study hall.

Why, today, had he insisted that I meet with him? It wouldn’t have taken many more letters in that email to tell me that Rocco needed extra help. Our conversation lasted less than five minutes. Something has been nagging at me all day, like a tug of war between,He just wanted to explain the details in person,and,He wanted to see you.

The formality of his words defended the former. The pink in his cheeks and secret smile were proof of the latter.

I hadwantedto hardcore bully him about theregardsto kick off that meeting. But instead, it stayed in my fantasies, where I’ve effectively locked him away. After that moment on Halloween, I know I can’t let it happen again.

He’s my boss. He’s nearly ten years older than me. Just because we hadone momentin his office—that ended with him telling me to count to a hundred before I left—doesn’t mean a damn thing. And besides, I don’t have time to add a man into the mix of my already filled calendar.

My overthinking is cut short when the bell rings. I’ve been having lunch with Penelope, Lucy, Aaron, and Sam, and Juliet just rejoined the crew after her maternity leave. We’re in Sam’s classroom, since it’s a science lab and the tables are bigger. When I enter with my lunch bag, I slide right into a conversation about middle school relationship drama.

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