Crazy Sweet Love: Contemporary Romance Novella, Clean Interracial Romantic Comedy (Flower Shop Romance Book 3) by Marisa Logan Page A
Authors: Marisa Logan
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home.”
“I'll go find him,” I said. “He can't have gone far. The tracks are enclosed, and there's a fence. I know a couple of places he could be hiding.”
Mrs. Szabo took Laura by her hand and led her off to the cafeteria with the rest of the kids. I started searching the tracks to find the missing TJ. There were a lot of props in the different settings where a little kid could easily hide. Most of the area was in an old west theme, with a rickety old saloon, a corral filled with plastic horses, and a little farmstead with haystacks and an old barn. There used to be an Indian encampment with teepees, but we'd taken it down after receiving some complaints from a local Native American tribe that it wasn't historically accurate and it reinforced inaccurate stereotypes about their people. There was a mine shaft there now, with an old miner mannequin bent over a stream, panning for gold.
I headed for the mine first, cleaning my glasses on my shirt as I walked. Most of the other buildings were nothing but false fronts, held up by wooden frames around the back. But the mine shaft was the size of a small shed, with wooden planks across the front blocking off the interior. We used the inside for storage of old equipment.
“Hello?” I called out as I opened the entrance. Inside I saw the old teepees and unused Native American mannequins, along with some gardening equipment and tools that the maintenance guys kept out here. And huddled against one of the teepees was a little boy, presumably the infamous TJ.
I crouched down in front of him, keeping my distance. He sat there, watching me, with his knees hugged against his chest.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi.” He sniffled. His eyes were a bit red and tear-stains marked his cheeks.
“Are you TJ?”
He nodded.
“You know it's lunch time?” I smiled, hoping to coax him out without having to get tough on him. “Are you hungry?”
He looked away, staring at the wall, but he nodded.
“Do you want to come with me? I can bring you to the cafeteria. We've got really good hot dogs.”
He shook his head.
I sighed and tried to think of a new approach. I'd had enough experience with emotional kids working at the museum that I knew sometimes you couldn't push them. “Was someone picking on you? If they were, you can tell me.”
He shook his head again. I wasn't that surprised. Lots of times kids were afraid to be a snitch. It usually led to them getting in more trouble with the bullies later on.
“I'll tell you what,” I said. “I'm not allowed to bring food out here, or I'll get in trouble. But if you don't want to sit in the cafeteria with the other kids, you can come to the special museum lunch room where only the employees are allowed to go. You can get some hot dogs there. How does that sound?”
He nodded, then wiped his eyes with his sleeve. I got up and walked over to him, offering him my hand. He took it and I helped him up. Now that I could get a better look at him, I noticed he was pretty chubby. I knew what that was like. I'd been teased for my weight plenty of times as a kid. And a few times as an adult, even.
I led him inside and took him to the employee break room. I sent John to go fetch Mrs. Szabo and tell her the wayward child had been found. I brought TJ a soda, a hot dog and a little bag of chips. When Mrs. Szabo arrived, I stood off to the side, letting her talk to him. My job was just to give the kids a tour of the Brandenburg Railroad Museum. Taking care of disciplinary issues was their teacher's job.
They spoke quietly at first, but then TJ started saying “No” over and over again to everything Mrs. Szabo said. Then he slammed his hands down on the table and said, “I want to go home! I want my dad.”
Mrs. Szabo sighed and said, “I can call your mother to come pick you up.”
“No, not Mom,” TJ said. “I want Dad.”
“But your mother—”
“No!” TJ got up and ran into the corner, hiding under a table.
Mrs. Szabo walked over
“I'll go find him,” I said. “He can't have gone far. The tracks are enclosed, and there's a fence. I know a couple of places he could be hiding.”
Mrs. Szabo took Laura by her hand and led her off to the cafeteria with the rest of the kids. I started searching the tracks to find the missing TJ. There were a lot of props in the different settings where a little kid could easily hide. Most of the area was in an old west theme, with a rickety old saloon, a corral filled with plastic horses, and a little farmstead with haystacks and an old barn. There used to be an Indian encampment with teepees, but we'd taken it down after receiving some complaints from a local Native American tribe that it wasn't historically accurate and it reinforced inaccurate stereotypes about their people. There was a mine shaft there now, with an old miner mannequin bent over a stream, panning for gold.
I headed for the mine first, cleaning my glasses on my shirt as I walked. Most of the other buildings were nothing but false fronts, held up by wooden frames around the back. But the mine shaft was the size of a small shed, with wooden planks across the front blocking off the interior. We used the inside for storage of old equipment.
“Hello?” I called out as I opened the entrance. Inside I saw the old teepees and unused Native American mannequins, along with some gardening equipment and tools that the maintenance guys kept out here. And huddled against one of the teepees was a little boy, presumably the infamous TJ.
I crouched down in front of him, keeping my distance. He sat there, watching me, with his knees hugged against his chest.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi.” He sniffled. His eyes were a bit red and tear-stains marked his cheeks.
“Are you TJ?”
He nodded.
“You know it's lunch time?” I smiled, hoping to coax him out without having to get tough on him. “Are you hungry?”
He looked away, staring at the wall, but he nodded.
“Do you want to come with me? I can bring you to the cafeteria. We've got really good hot dogs.”
He shook his head.
I sighed and tried to think of a new approach. I'd had enough experience with emotional kids working at the museum that I knew sometimes you couldn't push them. “Was someone picking on you? If they were, you can tell me.”
He shook his head again. I wasn't that surprised. Lots of times kids were afraid to be a snitch. It usually led to them getting in more trouble with the bullies later on.
“I'll tell you what,” I said. “I'm not allowed to bring food out here, or I'll get in trouble. But if you don't want to sit in the cafeteria with the other kids, you can come to the special museum lunch room where only the employees are allowed to go. You can get some hot dogs there. How does that sound?”
He nodded, then wiped his eyes with his sleeve. I got up and walked over to him, offering him my hand. He took it and I helped him up. Now that I could get a better look at him, I noticed he was pretty chubby. I knew what that was like. I'd been teased for my weight plenty of times as a kid. And a few times as an adult, even.
I led him inside and took him to the employee break room. I sent John to go fetch Mrs. Szabo and tell her the wayward child had been found. I brought TJ a soda, a hot dog and a little bag of chips. When Mrs. Szabo arrived, I stood off to the side, letting her talk to him. My job was just to give the kids a tour of the Brandenburg Railroad Museum. Taking care of disciplinary issues was their teacher's job.
They spoke quietly at first, but then TJ started saying “No” over and over again to everything Mrs. Szabo said. Then he slammed his hands down on the table and said, “I want to go home! I want my dad.”
Mrs. Szabo sighed and said, “I can call your mother to come pick you up.”
“No, not Mom,” TJ said. “I want Dad.”
“But your mother—”
“No!” TJ got up and ran into the corner, hiding under a table.
Mrs. Szabo walked over
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