Page 84 of Cornered

PERILOUS

OBSESSION

NATALIE WALTERS

ONE

“BUT WHY WOULDthey put a flamingo in jail?”

“Did he lie?”

“You don’t go to jail for lying.”

“I lied to my mom about hitting my brother—am I going to jail?”

Lahela Young clapped twice, cutting into the rising excitement leading dangerously close to uncontrol. From the learning carpet, twenty-three sets of hands clapped twice back. The eyes of her second-grade class all on her. Well, except for Blaise, who had just plucked his finger from his nose and was inspecting his treasure.

“No one’s going to jail.” Lahela tried again to explain what she learned about the story behind the infamous Pink Floyd—the flamingo, not the 1960s rock band. A fact she discovered through the cackling laughter of Mrs. Margo Bell, Cottonwood Elementary School’s eighty-year-old librarian. “Pink Floyd wasn’t put in jail. He escaped the zoo.”

A second before another round of chatter erupted, the familiar tune of “Aloha Friday” started playing from the timer Lahela had set on her phone to indicate five minutes before the end of school. “Okay, my little coconuts, all pau. We’re done, back to your desks.”

Twenty minutes later, Lahela’s students were on their way home and she was back in her classroom straightening everything in sight—all to avoid looking at the text message from her friend Daphne on her cell phone. Again.

As if it wasn’t already ingrained in her brain.

I think Briggs is going to ask you out tonight.

Briggs Turner was going to ask her out? The possibility made her head fuzzy and the rest of her warmer than a sunny day on Waikiki Beach.

“Looks like you’re glad it’s Friday too.”

Standing in the doorway of her classroom was Nancy Bart, wearing bright pink flamingo sunglasses on top of her head. The bubblegum color complemented the teal-green dress she wore with a pair of shiny patent-leather boots.

“My students would’ve loved to see you wearing those sunglasses today.” Lahela tossed the trash she collected and made sure her computer was shut off before grabbing her bag and meeting Nancy at the door. “All they could talk about today was Pink Floyd.”

“That’s better than what I caught two of my students writing on their desks.”

“Uh-oh.” Nancy was a great fourth-grade teacher who Lahela always thought would make an excellent kindergarten teacher with her quirky personality and matching style.

“You know...” She sighed, stepping back into the hallway so Lahela could turn off the lights and close her door. “I thought once I was an adult I’d hear less ‘Nancy Bart likes to fart.’”

They started walking down the hall toward the exit next to the faculty parking lot. “At least they’re generationally consistent?”

Lahela glanced at the woman walking next to her. Her browswere pinched together, and she had a distant look in her eyes. Had her students’ juvenile remarks truly bothered her? She gently elbowed Nancy in the arm. “You’re a great teacher.”

Nancy flipped her sunglasses back down to her nose. “And I’m fun.”

“That you are.”

“What are your plans tonight?” Nancy held out her key fob and her yellow VW bug beeped. “Want to grab a pizza and watch a scary movie?”

Lahela wrinkled her nose. “I can’t tonight. I have plans.”

“Oh, okay,” Nancy said, but something in her tone said it wasn’t. “With Daphne?”

Ugh. Had Nancy meant to say Daphne’s name like that? If fourth-grade boys never matured past fart jokes—and Lahela’s older brother, Kekoa, was proof they didn’t—then fourth-grade girls never matured past the fear of rejection and being the girl left out.

It wasn’t intentional. When Lahela moved to Miracle Springs, Texas, in January, Kekoa made sure she met his friend Colton Crawford’s cousin, Daphne, and they clicked immediately. Nancy was nice and fun, but Lahela’s friendship with Daphne just felt more ... natural. Like they’d been friends forever.

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