Chapter Eleven

PAIGE

My lips tingled from where his had touched mine. I didn't even know what happened or how – we'd just ended up together, kissing each other. And truth be told, it had felt nice. Really nice. I stood there, staring at the door after he'd gone and felt terrible. I knew that he'd insisted we not see each other and it made me sad.

And scared. After all, we'd never gotten a chance to talk about what was going on. I was never able to get the answers to the questions swirling around in my head. And as I thought about it, I began to wonder if maybe that had been his intention with the kiss all along. To distract me and keep me from asking those questions.

Even still – it had felt nice. Really nice.

I turned to clean up my desk when I heard a soft knock on the door. For a second, I was hopeful it was Elias coming back to talk to me. Or even better, to ask to get together with him later.

But no, it was our principal. I groaned inwardly when I saw him standing in the doorway.

“Miss Cleary, can we chat for a moment?

“Yes, Principle Fisher?” I asked, doing my best to hide my disappointment that it wasn't Elias. “What can I help you with?

My nerves got the best of me and my pulse raced. My nerves never failed to go haywire whenever the administration was involved. Being a new, fairly young teacher in such a prestigious district meant we were watched constantly – and we were critiqued nonstop. I felt like my job was always on the line because there were any number of other graduates out there who'd be happy to take my job.

I knew that I had gotten lucky when I applied for the position in the first place. Well, not so much lucky since my father knew someone on the school board. Somebody he'd worked with a long, long ago and they'd remained in contact. It was an important resource that had worked in my favor.

“Please, call me Chad,” he said, closing the door behind him.

Chad Fisher was an attractive man, a little older than myself. Okay, maybe more than a little, but he didn't look all that much older, honestly. His slightly graying hair was a nice touch to an otherwise young face. It made him look a little more distinguished. He was very well put together, always wearing designer suits or nice slacks. He represented the school and the parents had high expectations of the man in charge. And honestly, he looked the part.

He looked like an All American school principal, straight out of central casting – right down to his charming smile and bright, blue eyes.

“May I have a seat?” he asked.

“Oh yes, of course,” I said, pulling out the only adult-sized seat in the room aside from my desk chair. “It's a very pleasant surprise to have you stop by.”

“I'm glad you feel that way, Miss Cleary, I – ”

“Please, call me Paige,” I said. “I mean, if I'm calling you Chad, it only seems fair.”

“Of course, Paige,” he said, a dimple in his left cheek appearing when he smiled. “I just wanted to stop by and let you know that I've personally been watching you and how you conduct yourself. And I have to say that I'm impressed with your work ethic and dedication to your kids. I hear nothing but good things about you from them. The kids absolutely love you.”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “I love my job and the kids make it so well worth it.”

“I can see that,” he said.

He looked at me as he spoke and his smile faltered a bit which sent a jolt of fear through my heart. He hadn't come here to simply compliment me after all. Which meant – what exactly? Was he going to fire me? Had somebody complained about me?

“What? What is it?” I asked, my anxiety racing.

“Well, I don't even want to bring it up, but I feel like I have to,” he said. “It's been brought to my attention that you've been spending time with a parent – Elias Jones, I believe?”

I was taken aback, not knowing where this was all coming from. “Spending time with him? Not really. Not unless you consider our meetings to discuss his daughter, Harley,” I said, feeling totally flabbergasted. “But aside from that – no, I haven't ever spent time with him outside of the school.”

“Good,” he said, nodding his head. “I figured it was something like that, but there were a few rumors making the rounds, so I thought it best to nip them in the bud right then and there,” he said. “But I have to be honest – there are some of the other parents who are also worried about Harley Jones. Frankly, as am I. So tell me, what is your take on the girl?”

“My take?” I asked. “I'm not sure what you mean?”

He sighed. “What I'm asking is, does she seem to fit in here?” he asked, obviously fishing for the answer he wanted – or rather, the answer some of the snobs wanted. “Or does she seem to struggle with things? Since most of her peers here come from a – different background – we've been worried about how Harley is acclimating here. Not to mention our concern about her influence over some of the other children.”

“Harley Jones is an impeccable student,” I said, feeling more than a little defensive all of the sudden. “She's bright, very sweet, and honestly, pretty popular too. Her classmates seem to adore her.”

“Then may I ask why you and Mr. Jones were meeting just a few minutes ago? Was there a problem?” he asked, steeping his fingers in front of his face as he spoke. “Because a few concerns have been brought to my attention, and I just want to make sure I have all the facts.”

“All the facts about what?”

“About Harley and whether or not she's a good fit for our school,” he said.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words didn't come out at first. I racked my brain but couldn't find the words to adequately express my horror at what he was saying – at the bigoted attitude I was witnessing.

“But Mr. Jones pays the tuition,” I said. “She was accepted to this school and there are no behavioral issues that would warrant such a question.”

“She was accepted via a scholarship,” he said. “A scholarship for lower-income students. And every year, we have to reevaluate whether or not these scholarships are being put to good use. Whether the recipient is truly benefiting from being in our school.”

“And you think Harley Jones' isn't?” I asked, feeling my blood pressure start to rise. “And can you tell me why you'd even think that?”

“I'm merely asking the question, Paige. I'm just doing my job,” he said. “And part of my job is looking into some claims that perhaps her presence here might be causing problems for other students. That's all.”

“I can assure you that those claims are absolutely without merit, Chad,” I said.

“Okay, then” he said. “Again, I ask, what was the meeting with Mr. Jones about? What did the two of you discuss?”

I knew if I told him the truth – that I'd been concerned about her drawings in my class – it would have just been more fodder he used against the girl. And Harley was a good kid. A really god kid. And she deserved to be in that school as much as anyone else did – more than many, actually, if effort were the measure we judged by.

She might need some help to handle things going on in her life, but to turn my back on her and to send her to another school – a school that had even fewer resources than we had – seemed to be giving up on her. Tossing her aside. Telling her she didn't matter because she was on scholarship and wasn't born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

So I lied. Or at least, shaded the truth a little bit.

“She's a very talented artist,” I said. “Especially given her age. And I met with Mr. Jones because I wanted to talk to him about encouraging her skills. Honing and shaping them. We have had a couple of discussions about how to further her talent, that's all.”

“Do you regularly meet with parents of talented students?” he asked, his gaze narrowing.

I could tell that he didn't fully believe me – or perhaps he just didn't want to believe it. Perhaps he was of the same mindset as the other snobs at the school – more concerned with image than with substance or the heart of a student.

“No, not really,” I said.

“Then why Harley?” he asked. “Is she having trouble keeping up? Is that why you think she needs to extra attention – ”

“No, not at all,” I said. “Harley is different. She's special. He talents are unique and she's incredibly gifted, very advanced for her age. And I saw something in her that I think needs to be developed even more. Something I wanted to bring her father's attention to so he can work on it with her outside of the classroom. Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, not at all,” he stammered, clearing his throat. “May I see some of her work? I'd love to display it for the other parents to see if it's that good.”

“Of course,” I said, wheeling my desk chair around to my filing cabinet.

I opened the drawer and pulled out some of Harley's work – all of it a little too dark to show off to the principal of the school. Instead, I stealthily reached into my own pile – my samples that I made for the students – and found my rainbow painting.

It was a simple piece. Just a quick rainbow with a pot of gold at the end of it, nothing too special for an adult. But the lines and the colors were more advanced than a typical first grader would normally pick up on.

I held it out to Principal Fisher and he took hold of it, scrutinizing it carefully.

“Harley Jones painted this?” he asked.

“She did,” I said. “Right here in my classroom.”

I felt terrible for lying. Harley was talented, that much was very true. But her art was a little too dark for someone her age. And considering the circumstances, I didn't need to give the school anymore reason to pull Harley's scholarship.

“You're right. She is talented,” he said, keeping hold of the painting. “If you don't mind, I think I'm going to feature this at the open house next week.”

“Okay,” I said brightly, feeling terrible for my lie.

“I'm sure Harley will be so pleased to see her name besides her work, displayed for all to see,” he said.

He was watching me closely, as if hoping to catch me in a lie. But I smiled, placing my hands in my lap and didn't walk into the obvious trap he was clumsily trying to set.

“I think that's a fantastic idea.” I said. “I'm sure she'll be very proud. As will her father.”

Deep down, I felt like an asshole. But what choice did I have? If I didn't stand up for Harley, they were going to cast her aside – Chad was simply looking for an excuse to do just that. And there was no way in hell I was going to give that to him.

But I knew there was going to be another conversation with Elias in the very near future. This time though, it was going to be me giving him a heads up that the school was looking closely at Harley – and likely him as well. That they were looking for any excuse at all to yank her scholarship.

The last thing he needed was for his daughter to be removed from her school – the school she'd been going to for her entire life. The school where all of her friends were and where she'd carved out a comfortable little niche for herself.