Page 79 of Just a Little White Lie

Dad: I hear you’re doing well.

Me: I’m trying my best.

He didn’t respond after that. I guess it was an olive branch, albeit more like a twig, but still.

Things are looking up.

Luke’s bought me a little car—not what I would have chosen, but it gets me from A to B, and I only have to pay him back five thousand dollars. As much as I hate to admit it, if I’d been in charge of vehicle selection, I’d probably be adding another twenty or thirty grand to my already mammoth loan.

I guess boring ol’ Luke has his advantages.

Meghan Trainor’s upbeat voice rises in the chorus, and Jack lunges forward, snagging my shirt and wrapping his arm around my waist. My feet leave the floor, and I let out a raucous laugh as he spins me around, then nuzzles my neck. The music continues to pop around us as I turn, wrapping my legs around his waist and getting thoroughly lost in the moment. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of Jack’s lips, his smile, the sparkle he gets in his eyes when he looks at me. Being with him is so much fun.

At this stage, Luke still doesn’t know, and neither of us seems to want to tell him. We’ve never actually had the discussion; we just instinctively move away from each other whenever Luke walks into a room.

We both seem to know he’ll try to dump cold water over the whole thing, and I don’t want to have to deal with that. I just want to enjoy what we have right now. I want to revel in my happiness.

My phone alarm starts beeping, and I check the time. “The bell’s about to ring, and you have to get to work.” I pout. “I wish time could stand still. I kinda like messing around with you in here.”

“We should do these early morning practices more often.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, and I giggle. Getting to school at six thirty so we could “practice” was a genius idea. No one’s around, and now that I have a key and the alarm code, we can work on whatever we want in the dance studio while the rest of the teachers slowly dribble in.

I feel like it’s a chance for us to totally be ourselves without the threat of Luke catching us. I giggle like a teenager and skip back to Jack, jumping into his arms and giving him a long goodbye kiss before he heads out the door.

With a swooning sigh, I spin back to the stereo, going over my plan for the session. The bell rings for the first time, and I mess around with my various playlists, figuring we’ll start the morning with a fun, old-school warm-up.

“U Can’t Touch This” by MC Hammer is pumping through the speakers as the kids wander in.

“Hell no.” Dante spins and starts walking for the door, but Maverick grabs his arm, grinning as he tugs him into the room.

“Come on, Miss. We’re here to work, not get tortured!” He can’t keep his face in check, and his lips pull into a smile in spite of his complaint.

“It’s old-school, Mav.” I pull off a Hammer move that makes him laugh. “Get into it.”

He drops his bag, kicking it to the side of the room before dipping his knees and mirroring me—with a touch more class, I might add.

I grin and then try to copy his variation, and soon the entire group is rocking out to MC Hammer.

Yes, I feel most triumphant.

I’m still grinning at lunchtime as I wander the school on duty. Ugh. I really do hate duty, but it’s all part of it. The morning sessions run through my brain, and I relive that moment when Maverick picked Alexia up, throwing her into a cool spin. Arlo caught her, and the group then slid into a series of steps that matched the beat for “Higher Ground” perfectly. I love the way they’ve taken Jack’s moves and then tweaked them into their own. I feel like the dance really belongs to them now, and that’s why I’m getting such good work out of them.

These kids just need some respect is all.

It feels so good to be able to work that out, and I wish I could convince the other staff members of that too. April knows, and Bianca walked in on a dance session yesterday. She was so impressed and told the students so. A few of them lifted their chins with pride, and I figured she’d won them over.

But the head of music? Ugh. What a pill. She thinks these kids are losers, along with Mr. Henley from the maths department. Admittedly, I don’t have to try and teach Maverick and Arlo mathematical computations, but I’m sure they play up for him because he treats them like—

“Trash! That’s all you are, you freaking charity case.” I hear the words before I round the corner.

Picking up my pace, I reach the edge of the quad in time to see Maverick shove a boy backward. “Shut your mouth, Ronan.”

The rich boy’s laughter is mocking and derisive. I can tell he’s rich, even from this distance. In fact, I’ve taught this Ronan kid. He’s synonymous with charm and manners, yet beneath that smooth veneer, I did pick up an entitled, arrogant kind of vibe. When I mentioned it to one of the other teachers, they told me how wrong I was.

“Ronan’s an outstanding student, a real leader in this school. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s head boy next year.”

I lifted my eyebrows, trying to hold my tongue and not say, “Well, if I’m still here, I won’t be voting for him.”

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