Tell on You Page 8

  He swallowed. “Yes, sir. I do.”

  “Excellent, son!”

  Again, son? Jeremy pictured his father. What would he have thought of all this?

  Donnelly kept talking. “This won’t be forgotten at your next performance review, I assure you.” He stood, and Jeremy rose as well. The principal shook his hand. “I’ll have your things moved this afternoon to Cal Hardwick’s old office. The one with the big window.”

  “I—thank you, sir.” Jeremy walked him to the door, wanting the man out of there.

  The principal beamed at him. “See you bright and early tomorrow.” He turned back. “Jeremy, one more thing.”

  Now what?

  “You won’t mind if Heather stays in your AP class.” A statement, not a question.

  “I—uh, won’t that be a bit awkward?” Disastrous, Jeremy wanted to say. Donnelly passed a hand through his sparse hair. “Frankly, her mother is insisting on it.”

  “But—”

  “And, when you think about it, there’s less disruption that way, right?” Jeremy’s shoulders sagged. “I guess. Less disruption.”

  The principal clapped him on his drooping shoulder. “Good man!”

  Jeremy let him out. When Donnelly’s footsteps faded down the stairs, he closed the door and called out: “Mel?”

  She’d already come into the living room, stood, glaring at him. “You idiot!” she exploded.

  TWENTY ONE

  “WHAT??” JEREMY STARED AT Melissa, stung.

  “Your principal.” She glared at him. “Why’d you let him off the hook like that?” Her dark eyes flashed with anger. “Why the hell are you letting everyone off so easy?”

  “For crissakes, Mel!” Jeremy glowered back at her. “What are you talking about? I got my job back. What’s the problem?”

  “Duh!” She rolled her eyes. “Here you are, holding all the cards in this situation, and you let him push you around. Instead of suing that little bitch for slander, you’re letting her back into your classroom.”

  “Mel—”

  “And you even let him saddle you with an extra class. You had Donnelly in the palm of your hand. Why didn’t you demanded a raise, a promotion? You had a chance to write your own ticket, Jeremy!” She waved him off. “And you kissed his ass.”

  “Wait a friggin’ minute.” Jeremy stepped toward her. “If you’re going to eavesdrop on my conversations, at least get it right. The girl recanted. The principal came here to make good. I’ll be back at school tomorrow. Nobody knows anything about Heather’s accusations, or the suspension.” Well, Nikki knew. “Don’t you get it, Mel? No harm, no foul. Why start more trouble? A monster headache for us, and a disaster for the school. Who needs it?”

  “We do,” she said. “We need the money. We have a baby on the way, remember?”

  “Oh, please,” Jeremy said, grimacing. “Get a job, if you’re so worried. Besides, even if her old man is a loser, at least our kid’s got grandparents with deep pockets.”

  Melissa stalked off to the bedroom. The door slammed behind her, rattling the pictures on the wall.

  Another fight. The same fight. And their crummy apartment too small to allow enough space when they argued. He grabbed his jacket, craving a drink. The grocery store for a six pack. Why the hell not? Even if Melissa didn’t get it, he had something to celebrate. He had his job back.

  And he’d see Nikki in the morning. All right, so he’d promised the cosmos he’d be good. Maybe it would be enough to be careful.

  PROPPED AGAINST A PILE of pillows in bed, Nikki scrolled through the Facebook feed on her iPhone.

  “Nikki?” Her brother burst through her bedroom door, a jar of peanut butter clutched in his chubby hands. “I can’t get it opened. Do it for me?”

  “I’m busy.” And I’m not my brother’s freaking keeper.

  “But I’m hungry!”

  “I said I’m busy!” she snapped. “Go run the jar under some hot water.”

  Pushing out his lower lip in a world-class pout, Brandon backed out of the room.

  “And close that door!” Nikki barked.

  He did.

  Nothing very interesting on Facebook, Nikki decided. She phoned Heather. “About time,” she said when her friend picked up. “Why haven’t you returned my calls? It’s been nearly a week. What happened with Protective Services?”

  She waited out a long silence. “Nothing much,” Heather said.

  “What did you tell them? About Mr. B.”

  Heather mumbled something.

  “Heather! Will you effing speak up? What did you say?”

  “That he never did that stuff. That I made it up.”

  “Hah!” Nikki cackled. “Oh, wow. You must be in deep shit.”

  “Not so much,” Heather said.

  “What’d your folks do?”

  “They’re not gonna get me the car. And I have to write an apology to Mr. B.”

  “Too bad about the car,” Nikki said. Like she cared? “But, you know, Mr. B might sue you or something, Heather.”

  “I guess.”

  “So DCPP didn’t do anything to you?” Didn’t those people even do their jobs?

  “Well…” Heather paused. “I had to be examined by this doctor. And they told my mom I have to go for therapy.”

  “No shit?” Nikki said. A shrink, huh?

  “Yeah. Listen, Nikki, I better get off now. I have to finish my letter to Mr. B. I’m going back to school tomorrow.”

  Nikki chuckled. “Yeah, sure. Listen, this time keep the mushy stuff out of it, if you know what’s good for you.”

  “Uh huh. Bye, Nikki. See you tomorrow.”

  Nikki tossed her phone onto the bed. Unreal that Protective Services let Heather off like that. Fucking therapy? On the other hand, maybe she could get some mileage out of that information. Heather hadn’t been punished enough.

  TWENTY TWO

  THE MORNING LIGHT DISPLAYED Jeremy’s new office to full advantage. The large window illuminated his New York skyline snow globe, perched on his new desk. His Casablanca poster hung on the wall and the Tom Seaver baseball rested atop a shiny dark wood bookcase, where Jeremy had installed the books he’d boxed last week. As if the events of the past few days had never happened. Taking his lecture notes and copy of Gatsby, Jeremy locked the door behind him and headed off to face the sixth graders.

  Bob Jacobs’s English Comp class went smoothly. Jeremy got a kick out of teaching the younger ones again. At the end of the period, he collected his things and power-walked across campus toward the upper school.

  “Jeremy!”

  He stopped to let his colleague, Marge Peterson, catch up with him.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. They resumed walking, at a slower pace.

  “Uh, sure.” What to say? He still hadn’t worked out a cover story for his absence.

  “I mean, first you rushed out of here with a doctor’s appointment, then you disappeared for a week. What’s up?”

  “Oh.” Now he remembered their conversation last week. “I—uh—actually, Marge, it wasn’t my doctor’s appointment, it was Melissa’s.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “She okay?”

  “Yeah. She’s pregnant. The—uh, her doctor wanted her to stay off her feet.” He swallowed. “So I took some time off.” Sounded plausible. “She’s fine now,” he added.

  His friend beamed. “Congratulations! That’s great, Jeremy. When’s she due?”

  Oh, Christ. He’d never gotten that straight with Mel. He ran some rapid mental calculations. “Around the end of November, I think.”

  Marge cocked a finger at him, firing an imaginary pistol. “Tax deduction!”

  Jeremy nodded, smiling.

  A roomful of grinning girls and two objects atop his desk awaited Jeremy in his second period AP English class. He smiled at the girls, trying not to look at Nikki. Approaching his desk, he saw an envelope, his name handwritten on it, and a chocolate cupcake—adorned with a heart, in pink icing. Jeremy ey
ed them with unease.

  “Morning Mr. B!” Tiffany, freckled and red-haired, the first to call out.

  “Hey, Mr. B!” Samantha, owl-eyed behind round blue glasses.

  “You feeling better?”

  Jeremy nodded, canvassing the room, taking in the girlish grins. Heather sat way in back, face sickly pale. She darted a glance at his desk, lowered her eyes to the floor.

  “Morning,” he greeted them. Jeremy slid the envelope into a drawer. As he reached for the cupcake, his eyes met Nikki’s, and Jeremy caught a trace of smile on lips as pink as the sugary icing. He looked away, shoving the cupcake into the drawer.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I’m covering a first-period class in the lower school for a couple of weeks. I’ll get here as promptly as I can.” He fixed them with a gaze of mock sternness. “I know I can count on finding you all in your seats.” They smiled back at him. Good to see them again. “Now,” he said, “let’s get back to Gatsby, shall we?”

  The period flew. Nikki’s crystalline gaze lingered on Jeremy’s as she walked out, last to leave. As soon as she was gone, he opened the desk drawer and took out the objects he’d put there. He tore open the envelope.

  A brief handwritten letter:

  Dear Mr. Barrett,

  I’m terribly sorry for the things I said. You are a great teacher and you deserve better. If you want me to write a make-up paper, I’ll do it.

  Yours truly,

  Heather Lloyd

  He read the apology and regarded the cupcake with trepidation. No problem with Heather’s letter—simple and sincere. But a cupcake with a pink heart on it? Wrong message. Who’d be that clueless? What to do about it—confront her with the dumb cupcake, or throw it away?

  Nikki’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Like it?”

  “Huh?” He looked up. She’d come back.

  “I made it for you. Iced it, at least.”

  “Ohh.” From Nikki then, not Heather. “It’s—lovely,” he stammered. “Thanks.”

  “What’s that?” Nikki tilted her chin at the paper in Jeremy’s hand. “A secret admirer, Mr. B?” She smiled. “Besides me?”

  “Of course not.” He stuffed the letter back into its envelope.

  “I bet it’s from Heather, right?”

  He grinned. She always seemed to know things.

  “Told you it would work out,” Nikki said.

  “Yes, you did,” he replied. “What made you so certain?”

  “Well…” Nikki cocked her head. “I had a little chat with Heather.”

  His eyes widened. “You did?”

  “Uh huh.” She reached to graze his hand. “I knew she’d listen to reason.”

  Jeremy pulled away his hand, glancing at the door. “Nikki, what did you do?”

  Her lips made a tiny pout when Jeremy withdrew his hand. “Meet me later? And I’ll tell you.” Her blue eyes remained glued to his face.

  His chance to draw the line. He’d promised. “Nikki—I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

  The pout deepened. “Don’t you like me anymore?”

  “Of course! Nikki, you know I do.”

  The blue eyes clouded with disappointment. “Please? I haven’t seen you in so long. And my mom’s been crazy all week.” She lowered her gaze.

  “Nikki, I….”

  She looked back up at him. “Besides, don’t you want to hear what I said to Heather?”

  Jeremy’s resolve melted. He’d been a heel to reject her after she’d gone to bat for him. “The park? Four o’clock.”

  She nodded, glacier eyes twinkling, then turned and slipped out the door, sleek as a Siamese cat.

  This will be the last time, Jeremy vowed, watching her go. Only one last time.

  TWENTY THREE

  NIKKI WASTED NO TIME. How perfect that Heather’s note and her own cupcake had turned up on Mr. B’s desk at the same moment.

  “Samantha!” Spotting a classmate from AP English in the hallway, Nikki rushed over and clutched her arm. “Did you catch that?” She leaned in to murmur in the girl’s ear. “Heather left Mr. B a cupcake and a love note.”

  Samantha gaped through her oversized eyeglasses. “They were from her?” By the end of the school day, Nikki’s whispering campaign had gone viral. Did you know? She’s been writing love letters to Mr. B. Have you heard? She left a cupcake with a heart on it right there on his desk. As each pair of lips spread the lie to each little ear, the tidbit grew juicier, its origin more remote. By the time classes ended, the story became Facebook fodder, no one recalling who’d started the rumors.

  Which suited Nikki fine.

  She read the posts on her iPhone, awaiting Mr. B on their usual park bench. Her deft thumb plunked away. We should all take it easy on poor Heather, she posted. She’s in therapy. A nice touch, she reflected, imagining Heather reading it. See how I stuck up for you? The bimbo wouldn’t know what hit her.

  Nikki spied Jeremy’s blue Honda pulling in across the street and closed her Facebook page. She leapt to her feet at his approach. As she reached to embrace him, he grasped her shoulders.

  “C’mon,” he said. “We can’t stay here.”

  She grinned, game for whatever he had in mind.

  Jeremy led her to his car, his eyes darting up and down the street. The afternoon was milder today. People might be out. But no, he decided, as they got into the Honda. The coast was clear. He pulled out.

  They’d made it.

  At the corner, braking for a stop sign, Jeremy spotted a beige Camry pulling out a block behind them. His hackles rose in foreboding. Probably nothing to worry about. Such a nondescript car. Still, the vehicle followed them, staying a block or so back as they wound through the local streets.

  “Where are we going?”

  Nikki’s voice drew Jeremy’s attention from the Camry. “Someplace special,” he said. “A surprise.”

  “I love surprises!”

  Jeremy smiled at her delight and glanced at his rearview mirror. No sign of the Camry. A false alarm. He followed the local streets to the Watchung Reservation, drove to the Seeley’s Pond Picnic Area, and parked. A weekday and the lot was nearly empty, too early in the season for all but the hardiest hikers.

  He turned to Nikki. “Ever been here?”

  “Uh uh.”

  “Want to walk down to the pond?”

  She smiled. “Sure.”

  They got out of the car and made their way toward Little Seeley’s Pond. Nikki reached for Jeremy’s hand, and he let her clasp it, more relaxed, alone here in this quiet, wooded place. So good to let go of all that stress. He stopped and turned to Nikki. God, she looked lovely, eyes bright, cheeks flushed with excitement. His poetry failed to do her justice.

  Nikki let out a whoop of pure glee and threw her arms around his waist. “It’s wonderful here!”

  Jeremy didn’t pull away. “Wait another month and it’ll be glorious. Even better in the fall.”

  She tilted her face up toward his. “Bring me then?”

  “Um, sure.” A pang. He shouldn’t promise this girl things. And he damned sure shouldn’t kiss her, much as those perfect lips beckoned him.

  Nikki flashed him a grin. “Show me the pond?”

  He pulled back from her embrace, took her hand again. “Come on.” They walked on in silence for a while. “So tell me,” Jeremy asked, “what was it you said to Heather?”

  Nikki leaned in, letting her shoulder bump against his as they strolled. “Nothing much. I suppose I appealed to her better judgment.”

  He stopped and turned to face her. “I owe you.”

  Nikki’s arm snaked around his waist. “But you’ve already done so much for me, Mr. B.”

  Her words stung his conscience. What was he doing for this girl—to her? Melissa’s accusation rang in his ears: “You, you, you! It’s all about you.” Maybe she was right—he was that selfish. The thought soured his happiness. He had to end this.

  He gazed at Nikki. “You realize�
��” He brushed her cheek. “You’re very special.” My muse.

  Nikki’s lips curled into a smile.

  “Look…” He hesitated. “We can’t keep doing this.”

  Her smile wavered, and Jeremy’s heart ached.

  “Why not?”

  She had to ask? “You mean, the fifty or so major reasons?”

  She clucked her tongue. “You’re not turning all Victorian on me, are you?”

  He burst out laughing. “The ultimate English Lit major.”

  Nikki edged closer. “Let me read some of your poetry?”

  Jeremy flushed. “The stuff’s so old. I haven’t written for a while.” She’d hate it, he knew, find it corny.

  As if reading his mind, Nikki pressed against him. “Maybe you’ll write about me.”

  “Nikki!” He pulled away, hiding his red face. “We can’t do this.”

  Her expression clouded. “You said you owe me.”

  He brushed a strand of raven hair from her face. “I owe you better than this.”

  She moved closer again. “But you want me, don’t you?” Her voice low, insistent.

  God, did he.

  Loud barking made them look back the way they’d come. A golden retriever strained at its leash, rushing toward them with a panting middle-aged man in tow.

  “Brandy, stay!” the man yelled. Ignoring him, the retriever surged forward, tail wagging deliriously. “I’m sorry.” The owner yanked the leash to restrain his dog, already licking Nikki’s outstretched hand. “She’s undisciplined, but harmless.”

  “It’s okay,” Jeremy said. “Come on, Nikki.” He grasped her arm. Crazy to bring her here. He’d counted on the reservation being deserted, wanted to remember her in this place.

  “Do we have to go?” Nikki whined.

  Maybe the guy will think she’s my kid. “Yes. We do.”

  “Okaay.” She gave Brandy a last ear scratch and followed Jeremy back to the parking lot. Silently, they got in the Honda.

  “Mr. B?”

  He faced her. Those pale blue eyes pierced him. He had to stop now, before he crossed any more lines.