Page 29 of Sleepover

Madden and Jonah exchange glances. I think Madden’s asking Jonah, in some eight-year-old language beyond words, for permission to speak freely. They seem to reach a decision, and Madden nods. “After he made Junie be a boy in gym, we told him we didn’t think it was fair. But he asked if we were little girls, too, and that’s why we were friends with Junie, and then he told us to sit down and be quiet. Jonah said he was going to tell Mr. McKibben and Mr. Ketotzi said, ‘Mr. McKibben and I have been friends since 1980. Who do you think he’s going to listen to?’ so we didn’t.”

The office is so quiet you can hear the click of typing in the outer lobby, and the murmur of conversation next door in the counselor’s office.

Sawyer’s and my gazes swing to Mr. McKibben. Red has risen to his cheekbones, and he’s wincing. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, then shakes his head. “I would never let a friendship interfere with my ability to do my job. You have to believe that.” He turns a pleading expression on Sawyer and me. “Washington State law is on Junie’s side, and I would have been, too.” He sighs. “You know what? Let’s start over. If you would be so kind as to bear with me. Because Elle, you’re absolutely right. I was in the wrong on this. Boys, I should have asked to hear your story. Jonah, I’m sorry I distrusted you and didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt. Mr. Paulson, I apologize—”

Sawyer nods. “Accepted.”

There is the slightest lift at one corner of Sawyer’s mouth. That almost-smile on him is like a full-on beam from most guys. He catches my glance and the smile reaches all the way to his eyes, then drops away as he turns to the boys. He addresses them sternly.

“Jonah? Madden? Next time you think a teacher needs to be punished for their behavior, you need to tell Mr. McKibben or Elle and me first. Got it?”

The boys nod like bobble-head dolls, eyes huge.

“And you guys need to lay off harassing Mr. Ketotzi, since he’s going to be getting an earful from Mr. McKibben. Right, Mr. McKibben?”

Mr. McKibben smiles ruefully. “Absolutely.”

We all draw deep breaths for the first time since we convened.

“So—no suspension?” I ask.

“Doesn’t really seem to fit the crime,” Mr. McKibben says with a sigh. “How about the boys do trash duty this afternoon—just one day—to remind them that it’s not a good idea to take justice against teachers into their own hands?”

“Seems fair,” I say, looking to Sawyer, who gives another of those curt male nods.

“Grab one of the big rolling trash bins from the cafeteria and go from room to room emptying the classroom cans. The custodian will lock up behind you.”

I stand and Sawyer pushes off the wall, and I say, “Come on, boys. We’ve got work to do.”

Sawyer and I follow the boys out into the hallway.

“Hey,” he says.

I turn. He’s standing very still, and his face is serious.

“That was real good of you to stand up for Jonah. You didn’t have to do that. And you probably saved my ass, too. I could tell it was one of those situations where I was gonna make it worse as soon as I opened my mouth.”

I smile. “I doubt that.”

“Never been great with authority figures,” he says, lifting one big shoulder in an eloquent shrug. “Anyway, thank you.”

“It seemed like the neighborly thing to do.” I lift one eyebrow at the word we’ve settled on to describe things between us, thinking, even as I say it, how inadequate it seems. “And it’s true. Jonah’s a sweet kid. I meant every word.”

“Well. Thanks.” He starts to follow the boys, then stops and steps back toward me. “I was thinking. Jonah goes to this summer program, run through Katie’s Sporting Goods. It’s an outdoor adventure camp, six nights, for boys in third and fourth grades. Rock climbing, kayaking, hiking, camping, caving, you name it. My brother is the leader, so I think I could get Madden a place, if you’re interested, even though it’s full. It’s in August. Jonah would be glad to have him.”

“I’d love that. Madden would love that.”

“Okay. I’ll, um, make it so.”

His gaze lingers on my face for a moment, harkening back to the way he looked at me in Maeve’s right before he kissed me, flooding me with unexpected heat. I can practically feel the touch of his hand on my face.

Then he steps away, hurrying after the boys, who have already claimed a trash bin from the cafeteria and are pushing it down the hall at an unholy speed. I follow behind, more slowly. I’m trying to put together the pieces of how I feel. Sawyer’s offer made me feel oddly giddy, like he’d invited me into his life. And yet, what I learned over the wreckage of our side fence made me feel, more than ever, like I can’t let myself have any feelings for Sawyer. He meant exactly what he implied that night in Maeve’s—he’s not available.

He’s still in love with his late wife.

And the thing is, when Trevor left, I promised myself that no matter what I did, I would never let myself fall for a guy who was in love with a ghost again.

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