Chapter 11
Andrew
“You’re welcome here anytime, Robert.”
“You sure you don’t mind?” he asks.
He looks tired, defeated. I’m a little tired myself. I had Kiki last night. She couldn’t sleep and ended up on the futon with me. When she finally did fall asleep, it was crossways with her little feet dug into my side. Every time I drifted off, she’d wake me up again with a kick to my ribs.
I reassure Robert with a smile. “I’m pretty sure I don’t mind. I didn’t mind yesterday, or Tuesday, or Monday, and I won’t mind tomorrow. But I do have to get these plans written for next week. They’re due at the end of the day. So if you don’t mind watching me work, then . . .”
I gesture to the chair and he sits.
He’s unusually quiet, I notice, and I decide the plans can wait a few minutes. “You didn’t turn your homework in yesterday.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry.”
He doesn’t offer any more.
“Did you do last night’s homework?”
“Some.”
“Robert, is there something you want to talk about? I hope you know by now I’m a pretty good listener.”
He shakes his head. “Can I finish my homework in here?”
“Sure.” I glance at the time on my computer screen. “You’ve got about twenty-two minutes before the next bell.”
He moves his tray to a desk, then takes a calculus book from the class set on a shelf. I’m left to wonder what’s going on.
“Holy shit!” Jen says from the doorway. “You’re not going to believe what just happened!”
She’s hugging the door frame and leaning into my classroom. I tilt my head toward Robert.
She mouths an oops and then gives me a come here gesture. I set my plans aside and, with a brief glance at Robert—he doesn’t look up—meet her in the hallway.
She talks in low, excited little bursts. “Oh my God. Philip and Liz just totally got busted! Some parents called to complain. Apparently the kids were noticing. It’s like this huge scandal. Mr. Redmon called them in. Philip just got reassigned to a middle school. And Liz is outta here at the end of the year. Everybody, everybody is talking about it.”
She barely pauses for a breath when her face switches from conspiratorial to confused, and she says, “Hey, does that kid eat lunch in here every day?” She hooks her thumb toward the open door.
“That’s Robert Westfall.”
“I know who he is. Twinkle toes. Why’s he been hanging out with you? Got a crush on teacher?”
“Yeah, right.” I feel heat creep up my neck. “He’s losing his dad. Cancer.”
“Oh. I feel small.” Jen looks contrite for about two beats, and then she brightens. “Hey, if you ever get sick of playing nanny, send him over to me. He can cry on my shoulder while he eats his burrito.” She flashes me a wicked grin.
Robert doesn’t eat burritos. I don’t say it, but I think it.
Robert is concentrating on his work when I reenter the classroom. I barely give another thought to Philip and Liz. What they do, who they sleep with, that’s their business. Carrying on in front of students is pretty stupid, though.
We finish lunch and our work in companionable silence.
Robert
Mr. Gorman is weaving his way through the rush of kids in the math hallway Friday just before sixth period. He pulls up in front of me and stops me with a clap on the shoulder. “You’re coming to the dance tonight, right?”
“Um, yeah, I think so.”
“Good. Hey, we can use a few more chaperones. Let me know if you think of anybody?”
“I can ask my mom?” I offer.
“Your mom’s a sweetheart, but she’s got enough on her plate right now.”
I see Mr. Mac step out of his room a few paces away. He’s wearing a T-shirt that reads
I ACCIDENTALLY
DIVIDED BY ZERO
AND MY PAPER
BURST INTO
FLAMES
DIVIDED BY ZERO
AND MY PAPER
BURST INTO
FLAMES
“Maybe Mr. McNelis can chaperone.”
“Chaperone what?” he says, joining our twosome.
“Andrew, right?” Mr. Gorman says, extending his hand.
“Right. Um, Mr. Gorman, band?”
“Richard. It’s our annual spring semester kick-off band dance. Great music, great kids, and all the homemade cookies and chips you can choke down. Interested?”
I look back to Andrew and will him to say Yes.
“Sure. When?”
“Tonight. Six thirty? We wrap up at nine. A lot of our kids are new drivers; we don’t like to keep them out late, you know.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“All right,” Mr. Gorman says. He claps me on the shoulder again as he joins the fray.
Mr. Mac gestures to the open doorway, and I head into class. “Band dance, huh?” he says quietly as I slip past him, a note of amusement in his voice.