wait until the class empties, clutching my rose like it’s a magical ward against evil.
“Ms. Garibaldi, do you have anything to say before we get started?”
“Sorry?” Sorry is always a good place to start and since I’m sure she’s going to make me say it eventually, maybe I’ll just get it over with now.
“You sound unsure.” She presses her lips together until they’re just a white slit.
“I’m not. I’m sure. I’m sorry,” I grovel. I’m not proud of it.
“Hmm. Ms. Garibaldi, you have the potential to be one of my best students. But it’s potential you seem eager to waste.”
I open my mouth.
She flicks a hand to stop me. “Let me finish, you’ve had your say today. You need to seriously consider where you want to end up in two years. At the college of your dreams? With a career? Or pregnant with your second child and married to your baby daddy?”
I’m horrified I just heard the words “baby daddy” come out of Ms. Whoptommy’s mouth. “I—”
“I think it serves your interests to discuss your apology with Principal Jenkins, don’t you?” She turns back to her desk.
I don’t move.
“That’s all.” She doesn’t even look at me when she says it.
Clarice is determined to ignore Spenser by violently eating carrot sticks while turned in my direction. “You have any interest in soccer?” she asks me.
My mind is still on Ms. Whoptommy’s dressing-down. “Why?” Am I going to have to move to Bolivia to complete my high school education?
Clarice’s eyes roll back in her head like she’s trying to see Spenser without actually turning around to get a good look. “They’re starting a girls’ team.”
“So?” I’m still not following. Though I am fascinated by the things her eyeballs can do. I wonder if mine do that.
“It’s a Title Nine thing. Some parent got pissed because there’s a boys’ chess club.” She’s scary intent today, chomping on the carrots like they’re Al Qaeda carotene.
I ask the obvious. “Then why don’t they open a girls’ chess club?”
She shrugs. “Quid pro something legal.” She says each word in between Spenser’s like she’s eavesdropping, then speaking.
“Oh.” This makes less sense than her usual.
There’s a pause in the action as Spenser grabs his stuff and stomps away. Clarice can’t converse well with me and focus everyatom on a guy, not that I blame her. I haven’t mastered the art of multitasking either.
Her whole body relaxes when he’s out of earshot. “So, they’re having tryouts. Word is anyone who shows up will get on the team.” She throws the carrots back in her bag. I’m pretty sure she consumed more vegetable matter than is grown in California in the six minutes Spenser sat behind her.
She’s still talking about soccer? Here I thought we were just making stupid small talk until he left. Huh. She’s serious. I say, “Which means that hypothetical try-ees will actually have to run around after a ball, right?” This doesn’t work for me.
“Well, yeah.” She drinks the end of her green tea juice thingy.
The drawbacks are obvious to me. Running, and oh yeah, running.
“Maggie said she’d do it, if you did it.” Clarice puts on her best diplomat face. “I’m not saying this because I think it will influence your decision, but in the interest of full disclosure, you should know Lucas is the assistant coach.”
“Oh.” I’m dating Stephen. I repeat that out loud. “I’m dating Stephen.”
“Right. Which is why I’m sure that bit of information will have no bearing on your decision at all whatsoever. I just didn’t want you to think I’m keeping secrets or anything.” Her eyes twinkle maniacally.
“About the soccer team?” Why would I think she’s keeping secrets about the soccer team?
“I believe in honesty.” She’s so full of shit. She knows damn well I can’t resist the idea of hot and sweaty Lucas. Even running sounds appealing.
Of course, the odds that I’ll be
“Ms. Garibaldi, do you have anything to say before we get started?”
“Sorry?” Sorry is always a good place to start and since I’m sure she’s going to make me say it eventually, maybe I’ll just get it over with now.
“You sound unsure.” She presses her lips together until they’re just a white slit.
“I’m not. I’m sure. I’m sorry,” I grovel. I’m not proud of it.
“Hmm. Ms. Garibaldi, you have the potential to be one of my best students. But it’s potential you seem eager to waste.”
I open my mouth.
She flicks a hand to stop me. “Let me finish, you’ve had your say today. You need to seriously consider where you want to end up in two years. At the college of your dreams? With a career? Or pregnant with your second child and married to your baby daddy?”
I’m horrified I just heard the words “baby daddy” come out of Ms. Whoptommy’s mouth. “I—”
“I think it serves your interests to discuss your apology with Principal Jenkins, don’t you?” She turns back to her desk.
I don’t move.
“That’s all.” She doesn’t even look at me when she says it.
Clarice is determined to ignore Spenser by violently eating carrot sticks while turned in my direction. “You have any interest in soccer?” she asks me.
My mind is still on Ms. Whoptommy’s dressing-down. “Why?” Am I going to have to move to Bolivia to complete my high school education?
Clarice’s eyes roll back in her head like she’s trying to see Spenser without actually turning around to get a good look. “They’re starting a girls’ team.”
“So?” I’m still not following. Though I am fascinated by the things her eyeballs can do. I wonder if mine do that.
“It’s a Title Nine thing. Some parent got pissed because there’s a boys’ chess club.” She’s scary intent today, chomping on the carrots like they’re Al Qaeda carotene.
I ask the obvious. “Then why don’t they open a girls’ chess club?”
She shrugs. “Quid pro something legal.” She says each word in between Spenser’s like she’s eavesdropping, then speaking.
“Oh.” This makes less sense than her usual.
There’s a pause in the action as Spenser grabs his stuff and stomps away. Clarice can’t converse well with me and focus everyatom on a guy, not that I blame her. I haven’t mastered the art of multitasking either.
Her whole body relaxes when he’s out of earshot. “So, they’re having tryouts. Word is anyone who shows up will get on the team.” She throws the carrots back in her bag. I’m pretty sure she consumed more vegetable matter than is grown in California in the six minutes Spenser sat behind her.
She’s still talking about soccer? Here I thought we were just making stupid small talk until he left. Huh. She’s serious. I say, “Which means that hypothetical try-ees will actually have to run around after a ball, right?” This doesn’t work for me.
“Well, yeah.” She drinks the end of her green tea juice thingy.
The drawbacks are obvious to me. Running, and oh yeah, running.
“Maggie said she’d do it, if you did it.” Clarice puts on her best diplomat face. “I’m not saying this because I think it will influence your decision, but in the interest of full disclosure, you should know Lucas is the assistant coach.”
“Oh.” I’m dating Stephen. I repeat that out loud. “I’m dating Stephen.”
“Right. Which is why I’m sure that bit of information will have no bearing on your decision at all whatsoever. I just didn’t want you to think I’m keeping secrets or anything.” Her eyes twinkle maniacally.
“About the soccer team?” Why would I think she’s keeping secrets about the soccer team?
“I believe in honesty.” She’s so full of shit. She knows damn well I can’t resist the idea of hot and sweaty Lucas. Even running sounds appealing.
Of course, the odds that I’ll be
Similar Books
