Page 40 of Just a Little White Lie

Maverick’s playful, mocking expression drops to a cold, hard glare that sends a chill down my spine.

I swallow and look to the floor. “I’m trying to help you guys. I mean, I want to help you guys.”

He scoffs. “Whatever.”

“I’m serious!” I give him a desperate look. “Don’t you want to learn at least something about dance? Or are we just going to waste our time sitting here?”

“Why do we need to learn about dance?” Dante argues. “Huh? What’s the point? It’s not like it’s gonna help us get jobs when we leave this place.” He flicks a hand at his peers, and they all nod. “None of us are interested.”

Maverick stands, sauntering up to me and obviously enjoying the power of being tall. I straighten and raise my chin, refusing to look intimidated. My insides are going nuts, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Give up now, Miss. Make it easy on yourself. We’ll watch your stupid clips, but we’re not dancing one step.”

“Why?” I whisper.

He scoffs and shakes his head like I should already know the answer to that.

“Put on a movie or some shit, we’ll play on our phones, and then you can sit your ass down in that chair and earn yourself some money for nothing.”

His scathing tone and the dark look in his eyes make me take a step back, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m sitting in my freaking chair and pressing the space bar on my computer. A new YouTube clip begins to play. They ignore it, scrolling through their phones and acting like I’m not even in the room.

So much for planning.

Maybe it was a good thing Jack didn’t show me any moves or help me out. I’d have to go home for a second night running and humiliate myself with the truth—I’m a useless teacher who can’t even get eight kids to do as they’re told.

* * *

I somehow make it through to the end of the day, which includes a lunchtime duty that’s both boring and a bit of an eye-opener. I don’t engage, but I watch the rabble I’m supposed to teach messing around on the bleachers by the edge of the field. They’re goofing off and laughing together, an obvious family… and separate from everybody else.

I stand back and study them for a few minutes. Students go out of their way to avoid walking past the bleachers like they’re afraid to get too close. They keep their distance, throwing off a mixture of emotions—everything from disgust to fear. I see their faces, feel the vibe, and I wonder.

Why?

What makes these kids behave that way?

Maverick is the obvious leader. I watch him do a backflip off the bottom bleacher, then raise his arms to a bunch of cheers. He’s athletic. Capable. Dammit, he’d probably be an incredible dancer. Alexia and Trixi raise their arms and start to sway, showing off the fact that they’ve got rhythm.

The little schnitzels. They probably love to dance but were determined to torture me today.

I can’t let this stand.

I can’t go an entire week watching them play on their phones.

My afternoon whistles by with a few more insights thrown my way. Dante is the smartest of the group. His insights in English showed depth and the ability to think beyond the norm. I was impressed, and I told him so. His lips twitched with a little grin until Henry McDonald made some derisive comment. I didn’t catch his exact words, but the look on his face and the way Dante’s smile fled told me enough. I shut the situation down by moving on to the next question and pushed the lesson along quickly after that. The tension in the air was practically vibrating, and I couldn’t help wondering if Dante had had a little backup from his friends how things would have gone down.

I shudder to think.

This little group of mine is a mystery I’m struggling to unravel, but I have to get to the bottom of how these kids tick. They’re obviously talented, so why won’t they let me teach them?

With a huff, I storm to the office, ready to sign out. On the way home, I need to figure out what the heck I’m supposed to do to motivate these students. Would a dance-or-fail threat work? It seems unlikely. Erik did say the dancing would go toward their NCEA credits, but they strike me as the kind of students who don’t even care about passing.

Because how are dance credits going to help them get jobs when they do leave this place?

Dante’s words ring in my head, eating away at me.

“Hey, Lauren!” A bright voice stops me in my tracks.

“Oh, hi, April.”

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