He nods. "Sure."
Noelle raises her eyebrows, and I nod to the street behind us. Thankfully, she follows me without protest.
When we're a good fifty feet from the volunteers, I turn back to her.
"You need to chill with the GED stuff. Don't encourage him to egg houses. And for the love of god, can you please stop cursing in front of him?"
She rolls her eyes. "I had a feeling I was about to get in trouble. You realize he needed to tell someone about his issues with his mom, right?That'swhat that was about. He's not going to egg his own house. And you do realize that he probably has the mouth of a sailor around his friends. Nothing I'm saying is new to him. And honestly, why is it so bad to get your GED? It's an alternative diploma."
"Noelle"–I make sure she's not going to start spewing words again–"I am histeacher. If you want to be buddy-buddy with him, that's fine. But I can't condone certain behaviors when you're around and then do the opposite in school. Sure, you can make excuses and explain that we were outside school, but that doesn't mean it's not confusing."
She shakes her head. "I don't understand why you're keeping up this farce. It feels so inauthentic."
"I know. I agree." I pause, hoping this lands. "But I'm histeacher. The farce is part of my job."
She's quiet for a second, and then relents. "Okay. I will encourage the kid to stay in school even though in some cases, it's probably more damaging. I will act suitably remorseful about egging my father's house and drone on about howterriblecommunity service is with the stick-up-the-butt math teacher. And I will even censor myself for you. But know that when we're alone, I'm going to let out a string of pent up expletives so long you're going to wonder whether I'm a construction worker or having an orgasm."
I raise an eyebrow. So she's trying to get a reaction out of me.
Too bad for her, I'm plenty experienced at keeping a straight face.
"I've neverwonderedwhether a woman is orgasming before."
Her mouth pops open and she blinks.
"So that's how I get you to stop talking? Good to know."
"I–"
"Come on," I say, nodding behind her to where Robbie is now talking to one of the people in orange shirts. "Looks like we're up."
I turn and head back, Noelle following a moment later.
And while the volunteer walks us along the path and explains that all the directions we should need are in these little packets he hands us, I wonder how the hell I'm going to keepmyownmouth shut.
That comment was incredibly inappropriate.
In my defense, she started it.
But I'm supposed to be impervious to little comments like that.
I'm supposed to be aprofessional, goddamnit.
And instead I'm latching onto her bait and playing into the palm of her pretty little manicured hand.
We finishour hut well within our allotted two hours, mostly because Robbie McGuire is apparently a tank.
There were a few times Noelle and I glanced at each other when he would pick up a piece that was very obviously meant for two people and hoist it above his head like it was nothing. He somehow managed to memorize the directions within a few minutes, and rather than double-checking or trying to figure out what we should do next, Noelle and I both very quickly snapped into waiting mode, letting Robbie direct us.
He seemed excited, almost. Like he got to be the boss and tell everybody else what to do for once.
It was kind of awesome to watch.
As we clear up and get our hut checked over by one of the orange-shirted volunteers, I realize this form of punishment might have actually beenperfectfor Robbie. Sure, it wasn't the way he planned on spending his night, but he clicked into something he was really good at, and it certainly didn'tseemlike he hated it.
"I bet you're the kind of kid who likes building Ikea furniture," I say.
He shrugs. "Sometimes my friends ask me to help build stuff and I don't mind it."