Page 23 of Teacher of the Year

When everyone’s hats are damp and sprinting up the hill slows to more of a saunter, Mr. and Mrs. Shelton call, “Who wants hot chocolate?”

The kids scream and scramble over to the wooden shed cleared out for this purpose and line up, waiting for their warm, sugary refreshments. They remember to hold their cardboard cups with two hands and blow gently on their cocoa before sipping, as we’d discussed that morning.

In the hubbub of toasty chocolatey delight, Zoe trips over a chunk of ice, falls into me, and my hot chocolate cascades down the front of my jacket (because, of course it would), once again leaving me looking like a complete klutz. As I stammer for assistance, Olan materializes with paper towels from the shed.

“Mr. Block, let me help you,” he says, wiping the sugary mess from my jacket, and I’m simultaneously embarrassed at my clumsiness and charmed by his thoughtfulness. Even through his gloves and my thick coat and sweater, the pressure of his hands on my body sends a jolt of heat into my stomach.

“I can be so clumsy sometimes, and there’s no air dryer here.” I let out a feeble laugh.

“Accidents happen. Nobody’s hurt. There.” He takes a final swipe. “You’ll want to launder this when you get home,” he says, crumpling the wet paper up in his gloved hands.

“Thank you.” I place a hand on my chest and confirm he’s achieved the best possible result for now.

He takes a step toward me to inspect his work, brushing his hand over my chest, and it feels like a full vat of hot chocolate rushing over me, this time on purpose.

“Looks excellent,” he says.

I look up to meet his gaze. Our eyes lock, holding a few moments longer than they should, especially on a field trip, and I turn to gather the children.

“Everyone, line up for the bus!” I shout, shattering the moment.

I shake my head, dismissing the thought that having Olan close to me makes my entire body weak and tingly. Clearly, my flesh and brain haven’t come to an agreement about my feelings. I tell myself that having a gorgeous straight male friend is fine, but whenever he looks at me, smiles at me, or touches me, my stomach turns to mush. Remaining solely friends with Olan Stone may be a bigger challenge than I can handle.

Chapter10

The bus ride home chugs along with a new quietness. I don’t cram myself toward the window, and when the bus hits a pothole, and our knees brush up against each other, a jolt of energy surges to my groin. I don’t pull away, and neither does he.

“That was quite an amusement-filled afternoon,” Olan says, facing forward.

“Yeah, it was fun.”

“I haven’t had that much merriment in a long time,” he says. Who talks like this?

“I’m glad you came.”

I turn to him. He faces me, pulls his lips in slightly, and nods.

“For Illona, I mean, I know she was thrilled to have you here,” I say and pray he believes me.

* * *

Back at school, with only a few minutes until dismissal, Jill and I scramble to get all the children back inside, packed, and ready to go. Both Mrs. Schroeder and Olan come back to the classroom. Teddy grabs his backpack and lunchbox, his mom waves, thanks me, and takes him to the office to sign out. Olan plants himself on the rug, helping children with zipping and attempting to fit various items not designed to fit inside tiny backpacks by shoving with all his might. Watching him surrounded by children, playing whack-a-mole, trying to help each of them, I’m overtaken with a sense of affection. For my friend. We’re friends. Just friends. But if he’s trying to receive a good grade from me, he’s exceeding the standard.

The intercom spits to life, Jean’s voice announces pickups, and Kristi pokes her head in. I dispatch most of the class with her, leaving only Illona and Ricky.

“Ricky, I’ll walk you down in just a minute.”

I look at Olan. “You can take her and sign her out whenever you’re ready. Or you can walk down with us.”

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something. Would you mind if I wait here for you?”

Gulp. So, there’s a reason for his lingering. As if on cue, Jill strolls by with her pickups.

“Mr. Block, I’ll gladly take Ricky down for you. Come on!” she belts, putting her hand out for Ricky and smirking at me.

And it’s just the three of us.

“So, my question for you…” Olan resumes.

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