Page 12 of Shots Fired

“Well, yeah.”

“Sound perfect to me.”

“Pick the movie, Jazzy.” I kiss her soundly on the mouth before I walk away.

* * *

Jasmine

As I lie in bed tucked into his side, listening to the even breaths of Zeke sleeping, I wonder how a day as awful as it was became a day I never want to forget. All through the night, Zeke played with my hair, kept touching my face and hands, and kept his arms around my shoulders.

As promised, we made out more, and it was glorious. He stopped as he said he would and gave us time to cool off. Then he asked me to stay with him in his room.

“Just to sleep. I meant what I said, we’re taking this slow,” he reminds me. I acquiesced immediately, mainly because I wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink knowing he was in the next room and wanting to be with him.

I let my hand trail down over his chest and trace his defined abs, stopping before I reach his manhood. In his sleep, Zeke stills my hand on his belly and sighs deeply. I fall asleep feeling safe and secure.

* * *

The next morning, Zeke and I get ready to go to work. We need to be there early to meet Caleb and work through the details of Zeke’s undercover story. When I walk out of the bedroom wearing my fitted black pants and a jade-green blouse, he does a toe-to-head scan of me starting from my kitten heels and moving upward to my glasses and the loose bun at the base of my neck.

“If I had a teacher like you in school, I’d never get anything done,” Zeke says, then brushes his lips over mine. “Come on, let’s get you fed before I decide it’s not worth leaving the apartment.” He touches my glasses. “I didn’t think you wore glasses.”

“I don’t. I take them off for most of the day, but wear them every once in a while. I have a student who just got glasses, and he’s very self-conscious about them. When I told him I need to wear mine and how much they’ve helped me, he perked up. It’s hard to feel like you don’t fit in. I wore them more at the beginning, and he probably won’t even notice now, but I bring them anyway.”

Zeke butters the toast and adds a whopping dollop of jam on it before handing it to me. “That’s dedication. You really care about these kids,” he says.

“I do. These kids will either be the presidents or the gang leaders of tomorrow. I’m hoping that the people who care for them, teach them, and guide them will lead them to become good men and women for our future. My dad always said that a flower can only grow with light. I want to be the light for these kids.”

“You are definitely the light, Jazzy,” he says, wiping the corner of my mouth with his thumb. “Eat up, babe, we don’t want to keep the future president waiting.”

The school parking lot is still fairly empty. The cars of the principal, Christine, and science teacher, Edward, are the only vehicles in the lot, as well as Caleb’s car, which Zeke recognizes. We walk down the empty hall straight for the principal’s office. Christine sees me through the glass and waves me through, looking stressed.

Christine holds my hand tightly. “What on earth, Jasmine? You haven’t said a word about any of this. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Or, well, as fine as I can be.” I give her a reassuring smile. “I just want this resolved as quickly as possible.” I turn to Zeke and introduce him, or his alias, that is. “This is Zeke Cameron, your new art teacher.”

“Good to meet you.” Zeke extends his hand. Christine takes it and offers us a seat. We talk about the events of the day. The routine for outside duties has been modified so that Zeke and I will be out at the same time. Zeke is to stay close at all times. When I’m in class, he’ll be going through the school and checking out the other teachers, while Caleb has two patrol cars circling the area. I’m to wait for Zeke before leaving the school for any reason and report if I see anyone suspicious. Christine will be patrolling the hall, yard, and parking lot more diligently as well and keeping tabs on the comings and goings of parents and deliveries through the office. Finally, Caleb reassures me that multiple cameras have been installed throughout and around the school. When Zeke’s not with me, he’ll be monitoring them.

Zeke walks me to my classroom, and since he’s doing an art project with the students for the first part of the morning, he waits with me as the kids form a line to come inside the classroom. As they move inside, various greetings from “Hello” to “Hi, Miss B” ring out.

“Good morning, Jonathon. Hello, Marta. Good to see you, Willa,” I say as they enter. They take their seats, but their eyes are glued to Zeke, and they’re whispering to one another. “All right, class, eyes on me,” I call out. Several of the boys are so involved in talking that they don’t hear. I move to the light switch and flip it off and on, getting their attention. “Excellent. Now I have your attention, welcome to another wonderful week. We’re very lucky today. We have a new teacher at the school. Mr. Cameron is the school’s new art teacher, and he’ll be doing a new art project today. I’ll be learning too, because most of you know that I’m not very good at drawing.” I laugh, and the kids do as well.

“You know how to play softball?” Frankie blurts. He’s the cutest little boy. His brother, Duncan, is in the same school and is a couple of years older than his baby brother. Frankie is the youngest of three. His sister, being the oldest, has started middle school. Frankie is a curious little guy who loves to learn. He’s the first to get ready in the morning and the last to leave the class when we’re done.

“I do, and I love it,” I respond, “Let’s remember that we all have to raise our hand before speaking.”

“Sorry, Miss Belfour,” Frankie murmurs in his sweet voice.

I turn to Zeke and ask, “Would you like to introduce yourself, Mr. Cameron?”

Zeke takes a step forward, and I swear the kids stare in awe of the big man. “Hello, everyone. Before we start on a cool design, I thought it might be a great idea to learn more about each other. I’m going to ask all of you to tell me your name and answer a question. The question is this: if you could have any superpower, what would it be?” He pauses, and when I look at the kids, I can see the wheels spinning as they ponder what special power they want to have. “I’ll give you all a minute to think about it while I hand out the tools we’ll be using for our art fun.”

The kids are loving it. Each comes up with a special power, and through the conversations, Zeke points out that if they put all their powers together, they could change the world for the better. He then points out that we all have something unique about ourselves that we can share with the world. The class is glued to Zeke as they work through their art. Messy hands, warm smiles, and a room full of kids that are excited to be learning—it’s an amazing sight to behold. If Zeke wasn’t a cop, he’d be a fabulous teacher.

The day goes by quickly and without incident. By the time the bell rings, the kids are ready to bolt and so am I. Zeke and I regroup, and upon his insistence, he carries my bags to the car.

“Hey, Jasmine, I haven’t seen you all day.” I hear a familiar voice from behind me. Dan Furth is another teacher at the school. He started long before me and has been teaching here since he graduated. Dan’s a nice guy, great with the kids, and one of the most beloved teachers. He’s likeable and a good friend. But Dan wants to be more than friends and has on several occasions asked me out. I’ve always been polite, but have refused.

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