Page 55 of The Friend Game

“You’re assuming he wants to date me,” I say wryly, finding it somewhat amusing how simple George has managed to make my problems sound.

“Oh he wants to date you,” George chuckles. “I haven’t seen him this out of sorts over a woman since Abby Sawyer walked up to him on theplayground in fifth grade and kissed him on the cheek.”

Ipreen. Just sit in my chair and preen. Luke is out of sorts over me? Me?

Wait, but who is this Abby person?

No, I shake that ridiculous thought away. I am not going to be jealous of some girl who kissed Luke on the cheek in fifth grade.

I mean, if she turned up in person we’d have words. But as things stand, Abby is a thing of the past.

“Don’t look too pleased with yourself over there, missy,” George teases, bringing a bright flush to my cheeks.

“I’m not pleased with myself,” I lie primly. “In fact I’m verydispleased with myself because, as I was saying, I’m lying to Luke and I feel awful about it. So no matter what you say or even if it costs me my job,” I stumble a little over this part of my speech, because I may talk a big talk, but Ineedthis job, “I’m going to tell him the truth about not being certified.”

George steeples his fingers under his chin. “Okay,” he finally relents.

“Okay?” I echo in surprise. I was expecting more resistance. I’m a bit disappointed actually. I had a whole heart-wrenching speech prepared.

Now I know how Jill feels when we cut off her monologues at the dinner table.

Bless her heart.

“Okay,” he repeats. “But I have a few stipulations.”

“Stipulations?” I’ve turned into a cavernous room, echoing everything he says.

“Yep. First, I wonder if you’d mind waiting until after the holiday break. I hate to spoil Christmas with this business.”

“Oh.” I consider this. Sure I want to get this off my chest, but he makes a good point. I don’t want to spoil anyone’s Christmas. I drum my fingers across my thighs as I debate my answer. This feels like one of those What Would Jesus Do moments that I don’t like the answer to. Jesus would tell him now. Then again, Jesus never would have withheld the information in the first place.

Although Jesus wouldn’t want His birthday ruined, now would He?

Yeah, I know. Horrible argument.

“I don’t know, George,” I finally say. “How about we compromise, and I promise to wait until the day after Christmas?”

“Fine.” He nods. “My second stipulation is this: please be sure to submit the drawing piece for the art show before you tell Luke.”

I frown. “Why would that matter?”

“Because, Mrs. Stone was just in here trying to get my assurances that her daughter’s drawing piece would be the one submitted to the show andnot the one done by, as she put it, ‘that silly little scholarship girl’.”

I bristle in my chair, a shock of angry goosebumps dotting my skin. How dare she!

“And,” he continues, “if Luke does as I suspect he will and tells the board about you not having a teacher’s license, your tenure with us will likely be ended shortly after. I’d hate for the new teacher to find themselves at the mercy of Mrs. Stone’s whims.”

Okay, George is playing really dirty here, and I do not care for his methods. Sure, it would be very bad for my finances if I got fired, but I could bounce back. I usually manage to at least keep my bank account balance from dipping below zero. But Caroline. I don’t want her to miss out on an amazing, possibly once-in-a-lifetime opportunity because of my mistakes.

“George,” I moan, “you know the submission window doesn’t open until mid-January.”

He nods.

“So then why did you just agree to let me tell Luke December 26?”

“I was just warming you up,” he replies. “Inching you closer to the real date I had in mind.”

I purse my lips.

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