Page 12 of The Friend Game

“Right.” My leg starts bouncing up and down, my body unable to contain my nervous energy. “I can explain that—”

“That’s not all I know, though,” again he cuts me off.

“It’s not?” I squeak, both legs going now.

“I did some digging after my first discovery and found out that you’re Jill Bernard’s sister. I feltthat likely explained your unexpected presence in the school yesterday.”

“Yes!” I’m nodding so much I could be a bobble head. “All I wanted to do was bring Ellie her lunch,” I attempt to explain. He waves me off.

“After I figured that out, I ran a background check on you which came up clean. Of course it also revealed that you graduated from UCLA,” he leans even further forward across the desk, “with no teaching degree.”

My legs and chin come to a complete stop. “I’m so sorry,” I blurt. “I never meant for things to get this out of hand. I actually came here today to confess all of that to you, in the hopes of then talking about the possibility of hiring me on a trial basis, at the end of which I hope to have proved myself enough to you that you might consider joining me in front of the board of trustees to propose overturning the school’s bylaw that requires teachers at Grace Canyon hold a teaching degree.” I pull in a breath as I finish, staring hopefully at him.

He quirks one eyebrow at me. “No,” he says flatly, and my heart sinks. This is fine, I try to tell myself. I was just thinking about relocating anyway. I can’t work at Grace Canyon if I’m living in Timbuktu. One should always consider the sustainability of the commute before taking a job.

“But I have a counteroffer,” George’s voice breaks into my thoughts, and I push images ofmyself hurrying away from the ancient relics of Timbuktu to try and catch my morning plane to Arizona out of my brain.

“A c-counteroffer?” I stammer in disbelief.

“Indeed.” Now his eyes are sparkling. “What I would like to propose is that you take this teaching job,” he leans back and opens his hands, “no trial period. No certification necessary.”

“I’m sorry,” I blink across the desk at him, “I think I just hallucinated, because I thought you said I can have the job.” I laugh shrilly.

“No one’s hallucinating,” he chuckles. “I did say that.”

“I don’t understand. Have the bylaws changed?”

“No, indeed.” More chuckling.

“Then I still don’t understand,” I repeat. “Why would you offer me the job?”

“Because nobody ever looks into the teacher’s certification but me anyway.”

I stare at him, trying to process what he’s saying. “But…but you haven’t even interviewed me yet. Why would you go out on a limb for me? You barely know me.”

“Ah,” he folds his hands across his stomach, “true. I do barely know you, but let me tell you something else I found out while I was looking into our mystery substitute teacher impersonator.” He rifles through some papers, pulling one from thestack and sliding it over to me. It’s a picture. A very familiar picture. I stare at it uncomprehendingly.

“How do you have this?” I ask.

He smiles. “Let me tell you a story. It’s about my daughter, Amy, and her family.” He pulls another paper out, this one featuring a picture of a smiling brunette. “About six months ago she got diagnosed with breast cancer.”

“Oh no,” I breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

He nods, his expression grave. “I appreciate that. It was a very tough time for our family. I lost my first wife, Amy’s mother, to cancer when Amy was only a little girl, and I think we all had that in the back of our minds.” His voice goes gravelly as he fights off tears. I reach over and pat him gently on the arm. He gives me a small smile, before continuing. “Of course, things were especially hard for my grandkids. She and her husband, Parker, have three kids. My 6-year-old twin granddaughters and then my 11-year-old grandson. They live a couple of hours away in Phoenix. Their church community there really rallied around them during her treatment. They even had a group of people who shaved their heads in a show of support for her.”

My eyes go down to the original photo he handed me, to the bald-headed little boy smiling at the camera, and I feel a glimmer of wonder. Surely this kid can’t be George’s grandson. Can he?

“I can see you putting things together now,” George says with a laugh. “Amy’s son shaved his head too. He came to visit Tucson a couple of months ago, because Amy and Parker thought he needed a break from all of the cancer stuff. While he was here, Amy got unexpectedly hospitalized after her port site for chemo got infected. Bo has always been a huge fan of dinosaurs, so to take his mind off things his uncle took him to the Flandrau Science Center and Planetarium. Only, the two of them got separated when my son ran into a few overzealous members of his church congregation. Bo wandered off unsupervised, and well, you know the rest.” He taps the photo in my hand. “He found you, didn’t he?”

“Bo is your grandson?” I shake my head in wonder. “And his mom has cancer?”

“Had.” He grins. “She’s been in remission for a month now.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! I’m so glad to hear that.” I can feel tears gathering in my eyes and thickening my throat. “This is just so crazy,” I say, swiping away at them. “I mean, what are the chances?” I shake my head as I look once more at Bo’s smiling face next to my own, both of our hands touching the T. rex’s leg.

“Divine Providence at its finest, I think,” George remarks. “Though I am truly sorry that you lost your job over the whole thing. Luke told methat by the time the museum director found Luke and reconnected him with Bo, you’d already been banished from the building. He did explain the situation to the director, complete with why Bo likely told you he had cancer, but the director wouldn’t budge on his decision to ban the three of you from the premises.”

“Wait, Luke is your son?” I look back up at him.

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