Romantically Perfect: A Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Perfectly Imperfect Love Series Book 3)

by S. E. Rose

  He pauses.

  “Is that why you took the money?” Garrett asks.

  He nods. “I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t have done that. And now I feel even worse because it was supposed to help kids like me. I already bought some shoes because mine had holes in them and the kids were making fun of me. And I bought us some groceries. But maybe I can rake yards or something and make the money back. I’ll figure it out.”

  “How much did you spend?” Caris asks.

  “One hundred and fifty dollars,” he whispers.

  “Do you have the rest?” I ask him, my arm still wrapped around him.

  He looks up at me. “It’s in my bag.”

  “I’ll go get it, OK,” I say.

  I stand and quickly head to my classroom and grab his bookbag from his locker. I glance inside and, sure enough, in the bottom is a shit ton of cash. This kid is lucky he didn’t get in with the wrong kids or it could have ended badly.

  I pop back into Caris’s office and hand him the bag. He carefully pulls out the money and Garrett begins to count it.

  “Wow,” I say as he finishes. One thousand four hundred and sixty dollars.

  “Yeah, I can’t believe we got that much from those last-minute registrations.”

  Caris smiles. She walks over to her purse and a moment later she sets one hundred and fifty dollars on the table. She looks at Trevor.

  “I can use someone who can rake and shovel. I’ll pay this in advance if you will rake my yard this weekend and shovel any snow that we get this winter. And because you knew better, I have to do something as a punishment.”

  Poor Trevor’s eyes fill with tears again. “Are you calling the police?”

  She shakes her head. “I will let Chief Beckley know that it was a misunderstanding, and we have found the money. However, I want you to volunteer in the library during recess for the next month. You can help Ms. Danson with the books.”

  He nods. “OK,” he whispers. “Are you gonna tell my mom?”

  Caris sighs. “Trevor. I can’t lie to your mom. But I’m not going to tell her today. I know she can’t come in for parent-teacher conferences, so I’m going to set up something and we will come to your house next week. I will explain it to her then. In the meantime, do you all still have food?”

  Trevor shrugs. “I have some crackers.”

  “I see,” Caris replies. “Hold on.”

  She gets up and heads out to the main office. When she returns, she’s carrying a bag of food that I recognize as snacks she had brought in for the teachers for next week. Chrissy and Caris are always great along with the PTA about making sure we have food while we are here for parent-teacher conferences, which are typically long days.

  “You take this home for food over the weekend. I will figure out something more permanent next week, alright?”

  Trevor nods. “Thank you,” he mutters as he accepts the bag of food and places it in his now empty bookbag.

  “Why don’t we get back to class, Trevor? I think you might have a little time left to go to gym class,” I say as I stand and lead him to the door.

  He turns back to Caris and Garrett again as the door opens. “I really am sorry,” he says.

  “We know, Trevor. We know. Get on back to class and we’ll talk more next week,” Caris says as she hands him a note for the gym teacher.

  Trevor is very quiet as we walk back to the gym. Before he goes inside, he turns to me. “You won’t tell the other students, will you?”

  I shake my head. “No, Trevor, I won’t tell them.”

  “I shouldn’t have worn the new shoes, huh?”

  I shrug. “I would hope that you would have admitted to doing it eventually whether or not we had noticed that.”

  “I would have. I was just scared.”

  “I know. And it’s OK to be scared. Sometimes, I get scared too.”

  “You do?” he asks, his eyes widening.

  I nod. “I do. Now, off you go. There are only twenty minutes left.”

  He heads inside, and I watch through the window in the door as he gives the gym teacher his hall pass and joins his classmates who are doing some sort of exercise circuit.

  I lean against the wall and sigh. I know I need to do something to help him, but I’m just not sure what. Whatever crap I thought was important earlier today, just flew out the window. Trevor’s family is in real trouble, and, in comparison, my silly issues don’t even begin to stack up to what he’s going through.

  Garrett

  “What’s the plan?” I ask Caris after Trevor and Di leave.

  “I’m going to call the Banneker Children’s Charity. I’m old friends with the current executive director, Lloyd Waterston. I think he may be willing to help us with Trevor’s family,” she explains.

  “Good. Because if not, I’m willing to raise the money they need myself.”

  “Do you know if his mother worked before?” Caris asks.

  “Yeah, she was doing some clerical work as a temp, but after the accident, she wasn’t able to anymore. I mean, maybe if we can get their car sorted so she can drive it, then she might be able to work again.”

  “I have an idea for that too,” Caris says.

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Just, leave it to me. We’ll talk Monday.”

  I nod and go to leave. “Caris?”

  She looks up from her desk where she just sat down.

  “You did the right thing with him. It makes me proud to teach here.”

  She gives me a small smile. “This town and this school have become my life. It’s a community, and we take care of each other.”

  “Yes, we really do.”

  I head back to my classroom, thankful that the office sent the school librarian to sit with my students. I wrap up their lesson as the buzzer for the end of the day rings.

  I think about Trevor the whole walk home. I decide the next day that I’m going to make some changes in my class. If it means that I buy snacks to keep for them or extra clothes or shoes if they need them, I will make sure my students always have access to the things they need. Trevor won’t have to worry about new shoes next year and neither will any kid in my class. I know, I’m dreaming big, but there has to be something I can do to help.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I’m surprised when I have a text from Di the next morning.

  Di: Can we chat about yesterday?

  Me: Sure. Call whenever.

  Five minutes later, my phone rings.

  “What’s up?”

  “I feel awful for Trevor,” she admits.

  “Me too.”

  “I want to do something. I know Caris is reaching out to the charity and trying to find work for his mom, but I feel like they need more support than just the car upgrade and some temp work,” she says.

  And with that simple statement, I fall even harder for her. Fuck, I need this next week to be over. I want to profess my feelings for her, but I know now isn’t the time.

  “Any ideas?” I ask.

  “Well, Trevor’s dilemma with his shoes and the food got me thinking. Our school is in a wealthy enough district that we don’t qualify for programs that provide regular food for all the kids. And I know none of our kids want their friends knowing they can’t get fed at home. So, what if we as teachers with the help of the PTA make a free snacks program. I mean, it’s not a lot, but it would give the kids something in their belly every day. We could have a snack trolley that would come around each classroom during morning announcements. And kids could choose a healthy snack from it. And for new clothes, I thought maybe we could add an extra fundraiser each year for classes and provide each kid with t-shirts or shorts. It’s not much, but it would ensure they could get something, and again they don’t get called out for it by their friends.”

  “Those are some great ideas, Di. I was thinking about something with food, too.”

  “Really?” she asks.

  “Yep. I kept thinking of how I could help the kids more dur
ing my walk home yesterday. I just feel awful for Trevor, and I don’t want any of our kids feeling that way.”

  “Me either. I’m glad Ash said something.”

  “Did you talk to him about why he spoke to me and not you?” I ask.

  She sighs. “Yeah. He said he thought I’d get mad at him for not saying something sooner. We had a long chat about how I would never get mad at him for doing the right thing. It’s all good now.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “OK, well, I don’t want to bother you. I was going to call Bailey, but she’s busy helping her mom again. I was just brimming with ideas after yesterday and had to share them with someone before I burst,” she says with a shy giggle.

  I laugh. “I’m glad you called. I guess we’ll be going to Trevor’s on Tuesday.”

  “Oh, you’re going to come along, too?” she asks.

  “Yes. I want to be there. With his reading level, he’s going to most likely be in my class next year. I think it’s important that we show a united front and have a game plan for how to help him not just now, but next year too.”

  “That’s a really good idea, Garrett.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, I guess I should go work on my prep for the parent-teacher conferences. I’ll see you next week,” she says.

  “See you later, Di.”

  We hang up, and I sit staring at my phone. This next week is going to be a very long one.

  Di

  Today’s mystery gift is a box of hot chocolate bombs. I grin like a child as I pour hot milk over one and watch it dissolve. My head is spinning with the events of Friday. I’m no closer to figuring out who sent me all these things, and I’m also too sucked into helping Trevor to give it much thought.

  It’s taken three days, but I’ve managed to get Kent’s friends to donate a shit ton of stuff for Trevor’s family for Christmas and Thanksgiving. And the best gift is about to arrive at any minute. We don’t meet with Mrs. Larson until tomorrow, and I can barely contain my excitement. I hear a honk and I run downstairs to find Kent leaning against a brand-new minivan that has a handicap ramp and a place to store Mrs. Larson’s wheelchair and gas and brake hand controls, so she can drive it. The team is also going to pay to have their small 1950s ranch-style house made to be more wheelchair accessible with wider doorframes and a ramp to the front door and into the garage. They rent the house from the Fishers that live nearby, and the Fishers have agreed to the renovations. And with the part-time work the school can offer Mrs. Larson, they are going to be in a much better place come next year.

  “Wow! Just…wow,” I manage.

  He hands me the keys. “The paperwork is all in the glovebox. The dealership threw in a maintenance package for the first three years. There’s a gift card for gas money that should last her a few months as long as she just drives locally.”

  I give Kent a hug. “Thanks!”

  “Any time. I’m glad we could help out a family that needs it. I got them tickets to a game for next season, too, but I’ll save that for Trevor’s birthday, which I hear is in March.”

  I nod and pinch his cheek. “You’re too adorable.”

  He blushes and rolls his eyes. “Anyhow, I need to get back. I promised Tabby that I’d bring her ice cream.”

  “How’s she doing?” I ask.

  “Hungry. She was feeling sick for a few weeks, and now I feel like she might eat us out of house and home.”

  I giggle. “She’s too tiny for that. But if you have a son, and he’s anything like you and Clark, then I would lock the pantry because you guys ate like seven full meals a day as teenagers.”

  Kent winces. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

  I laugh. “Better hurry home, Daddy-O. A hungry pussycat equals a hangry pussycat.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  I look around and frown. “How are you getting home?” Kent’s house isn’t far, but it would be quite a long walk in this cold weather.

  No sooner have the words left my mouth when Dad pulls up and waves at us.

  “Does that answer your question?” Kent says, hooking a finger in Dad’s direction.

  I nod. “See you later, alligator.”

  “After a while, crocodile,” Kent retorts as he gets in Dad’s car, and they head off to get ice cream.

  I head inside and toss the keys down on my counter as my phone buzzes.

  Lanie: Beotch, let me in.

  I laugh and press the door buzzer so she can come upstairs. Some days with all the family here, my place can feel like a revolving door of people. Unlocking the door, I’m greeted by Lanie who is carrying a bag of children’s clothes.

  “What’s all this?” I ask as she walks in and sets it down on the counter as I follow her.

  “Ash told me what happened, and I happened to have some other moms over at the time. Anyhow, we all feel horrible that we didn’t know how bad Melissa’s situation was or that Mike left her. We’re supposed to be a community here, and we’ve been doing a shit job of that if we didn’t even notice that a family was so in need that their little boy would take money to help them get food. We can’t pride ourselves on being this close-knit, idyll small town if we let things like that happen,” she says, brushing away a tear.

  I pull my twin in for a massive hug. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice filled with emotion.

  She pulls back after a minute and wipes her eyes. “OK, enough mushy stuff. What else can we do?”

  I pat a kitchen chair, and we sit as I start to tell my sister about the things I told Garrett over the weekend; all the ideas I have to help my students.

  My timer buzzes as I finish, and I curse under my breath. “Sorry, I was on a break from parent-teacher conferences, but I have to get back over to the school. I have six more meetings tonight.”

  “Well, have fun with that and let me know how tomorrow goes,” Lanie says.

  I realize Ash isn’t with her and the kids have off from school this week.

  “Uh, where’s Ash?” I ask as I walk her to the door.

  “I let him stay home by himself for the first time ever,” she says.

  “Oh, do you think your house is still standing?” I inquire as her phone rings.

  I see Ash’s name flash on the screen followed by a panicked look on my sister’s face.

  “Ash? What’s wrong?” Lanie answers.

  I hear Ash’s voice. “Do you think it’s OK if a cat eats peanut butter?”

  “Why?”

  “Uh, because the cat ate peanut butter.”

  I press my lips together as I try not to laugh.

  “I’m on my way home. Do not feed the cat anything else.”

  “But, Mom—”

  “Nope. Nothing. I’ll see you in five minutes.”

  Lanie hangs up and groans. “Parenting is hard work.”

  I giggle. “At least you have a cute kid.”

  She shrugs. “You say that when he accidentally spills paint down the back of your sofa and fails to mention it to you.”

  I grimace. “Washable paint?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I wish.”

  “Well, you needed a new sofa anyhow.”

  “OK, I better get back there before he comes up with some other harebrained scheme.”

  “We on for side-dish duty on Thursday?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I’ll see you at Mom and Dad’s at eleven,” she says as she walks down the stairs.

  “Cool beans.”

  I close the door. For as many parties as Mom and Dad throw, Thanksgivings tend to be low-key. It’s just our immediate family and sometimes our grandparents. I’m actually looking forward to Friday when I can chill out and decorate my apartment for Christmas. I need some twinkle lights in my life right now.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Melissa Larson is my last parent-teacher conference. Caris comes with me while Garrett and Chrissy pick up the Larsons’ new van to bring it over to the house.

  I knock on the door
and one of Trevor’s little sisters answers.

  “Hello,” she says with a cheerful smile. I can see a brace on her leg, and I know immediately it’s Heidi.

  “Hi there, Heidi. I’m Trevor’s teacher, and I’m here to meet with your mom.”

  Her eyes grow large. “Is Trevor in trouble?” she asks, her bottom lip quivering.

  I kneel down so we are at eye level. “Not at all. I heard your teacher and Daphne’s teacher called and chatted with your mom, but I live so close that I thought I’d just pop by in person with Principal Kennedy.”

  Heidi looks up at Caris. “So, Trevor isn’t in trouble?”

  Caris leans down. “No one is in trouble today.”

  “Oh. OK.” She steps back, ushering us inside. “Mom!”

  “I’m coming,” Melissa calls out from another room. A minute later she’s wheeling herself into the living room. “Please have a seat. Can I get you anything? Water?”

  We both shake our heads as we take a seat on a threadbare sofa that’s springs have seen better days. Melissa places her hands in her lap.

  “So, how is Trevor doing…aside from the incident?” she asks, sighing. Caris had called her yesterday to explain, and Melissa was both embarrassed and upset.

  “He’s doing well academically. I have noticed he’s been a little withdrawn lately, which I can understand. He’s gotten to be friends with my nephew, Ashton. I’m hoping that will help him out. I think having him repeat the fourth grade was a good idea. He has more confidence in his schoolwork, and he was very close to the cut-off date, so he’s not that much older than some of the other kids in my class. Socially, I think he might be right where he belongs now. I would like for him to get some tutoring in math, but aside from that, he’s doing quite well. I’ve seen significant progress in his reading since we started him doing the bi-weekly sessions with the reading intervention specialist.”

  “Good. I was worried about that. His father is dyslexic too, and I know how hard that can be,” she says, looking down at her fingers.