Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9)

by Heather Wardell

  The amusement in his warm voice made me smile, and I hardly even glared at Brandon before heading into the kitchen with the phone. "Good guess. I'm Megan, Brandon's sister. He was talking to you about the running group?"

  It occurred to me in a flash of potential embarrassment that it would be just like Brandon to not have asked so I'd look like an idiot, but fortunately Andrew said, "Yup. We run Friday nights at seven and Sunday mornings at nine, and you're welcome tomorrow night if you want."

  Hearing Andrew's calm and nicely deep voice, I did want, more than I had before. He sounded different than most of the fighters Brandon knew, like he didn't have an over-inflated ego and like his brain hadn't been rattled into submission by too many punches. "I will, if you're sure it's okay."

  "Why wouldn't it be?"

  "Well, it's for the fighters, right?"

  "Started that way but I have a few friends and siblings of fighters in the group already so you'll fit right in."

  So much for letting me join as a favor to Brandon. That made me feel better, though, since Andrew wouldn't be putting himself out just for me. It didn't get rid of all my worries, though. "I might not fit in," I confessed. "I haven't run for years."

  "But you did at one point?"

  "Back in high school I was on the track team." I couldn't bring myself to tell Andrew I'd hated it because I'd just be starting to feel comfortable running when the run ended. I'd mentioned that once to my fearsomely tough phys ed teacher and he'd told me not to be a whiner so I'd kept it to myself from then on.

  "Good stuff. You'll do fine. And right now because of the snow we're running on the indoor track beside the MMA gym so you can go at your own pace and it won't matter what it is. Oh, and a bunch of us always go to the Setherwood Café after the Friday run for dinner so bring a towel and change of clothes so you can shower and join us. If you want to, of course. Sound good?"

  He did. And it did.

  I wrote down the schedule and went back into the dining room where Brandon began making kissy faces at me and chanting, "Megan loves Andrew!"

  "Megan hasn't met Andrew, so she doesn't," I said, settling onto my chair. "He sounds nice enough though."

  "He's okay. Not the typical fighter, but okay."

  Since I'd thought he sounded different on the phone, I was curious but I didn't want to push it since it was well within Brandon's usual behavior to tell Andrew I was asking tons of questions and make me sound like a horny freak.

  To my pleasant surprise, though, Kim said, "How's he different?"

  Even Brandon wasn't permitted to harass Kim much. Our older sister's health issues, and the frequent scares for her life itself when she was younger, meant she was off-limits. So he gave her a straight answer. "He's a computer guy. Writes software or something. When I first met him I couldn't believe he'd actually be a good fighter because he seems too..." He waved his hand in a 'looking for a word' gesture. "'Wimpy' isn't right but it's close. Anyhow, he's an animal in the ring, but kind of quiet out of it."

  "What does he look like?"

  He turned to me. "Got the hots for him?"

  "Brandon," my mother murmured as if in pain, but she did nothing further.

  "I haven't met him, so how could I? But I'll need to find him tomorrow."

  Clearly losing interest, Brandon reached for the first piece of my birthday cake and said, "Tall, blond, blue eyes, tattoo of a sword on his arm."

  I didn't care about tattoos either way but the rest sounded like I might enjoy running after all.

  Chapter Four

  When I pulled into the school parking lot at nine-thirty the next morning, Amanda's car was already there. My heart sank: I'd hoped to be early enough to see the damage before she did so I'd be able to find a good way to calm her down.

  I could smell the aftereffects of the fire once I was a few feet inside. Colette had said the school would be ready to open on Monday but I wasn't so sure now. We'd have to keep all the windows open to flush out the smoky air, and it'd be tough to teach while wearing mittens against the wintry weather.

  Hoping the stench was the biggest problem, I walked past the roped-off maintenance room, which not surprisingly looked like a bomb had hit it, and began peeking into classrooms to see how they'd fared.

  The kindergarten room was a shambles. Poor Tosca. Her room backed onto the gym and as a result had no windows, so at least there wasn't broken glass everywhere, but the explosion's energy had knocked over bins of building blocks and tiny toys and the floor was so thickly covered I couldn't see the carpet in spots. I couldn't imagine how long it would take to sort everything again.

  The door of Veronica's grade one room, which she always left open at night because she liked to let it air out, was right across from the maintenance room, so the explosion had shattered all her windows and knocked over several bookcases. Books and binders from the shelves lay in heaps on the sodden carpet, all drenched by run-off from the firefighters' spraying water in the maintenance room. I knew she kept her grading books in a locked cabinet, so they were probably fine, but anything exposed was a mess. Colette had said the windows would be replaced later that morning, but replacing all the materials Veronica had been collecting over years of teaching would be impossible.

  Amanda wasn't in her room, which had two missing windows and one toppled bookcase and soaked carpet, so I carried on around the corner and down the hall, glad to see that none of my other coworkers had suffered any serious damage. My room was at the end of the hall so should have been fine, but I was still nervous when I opened my door. Fortunately I'd put the little carpet pieces on which my students sat for story time up on a cabinet before I left so they weren't ruined, and the only sign of the explosion was muddy firefighter boot prints on my tiled floor.

  Relieved, I went back to find Amanda. She still wasn't in her room but I eventually found her rearranging chairs and tables in the spare classroom at the far end of the school. "Hey there," I said, confused by what she was doing. "How are you?"

  "I'm glad you're here, I could use the help," she said without looking up. She didn't sound as upset as I'd have expected, though. "Did you see my room?"

  I nodded, then felt silly since she wouldn't have seen. "I'm so sorry. It's awful."

  "I know. Everything bad always happens to me. You're so lucky nothing happened to your room."

  "I know I am," I said, feeling guilty though it was hardly my decision which rooms got blown up. "But what are you doing down here?"

  "I'm going to use this room until mine is fixed."

  "Oh!" Colette hadn't said anything about that. "What about Tosca and Veronica?"

  "Tosca's walls are all okay so she'll be fine. Veronica will have to stay where she is, I guess."

  "She can't teach in that," I said, then quickly added, "Can she?" because even to me it sounded like I was challenging her.

  Amanda must have heard that in my voice too, because she turned on me. "Well, I can't either. And I have seniority so I'm in here."

  Seniority. By three whole days. Amanda and Veronica were both in their second year at the school, but Veronica had missed part of the first year's staff training and room set-up week because she'd been caring for her son after an emergency tonsillectomy. Amanda and Veronica hadn't liked each other from the start and Amanda's use of the 'seniority' excuse to get what she wanted didn't help. The three of us had signed up to plan the grade eight graduation at the end of June, with me as committee leader because neither of them wanted the role, and I was dreading trying to get them to work together. Last year I'd been the leader with Amanda and our French teacher Dominique, and I'd hated that enough without throwing the animosity between Amanda and Veronica into the mix. But nobody else had wanted to lead the committee either year so I hadn't fought it when Amanda volunteered me.

  "Colette's okay with that, then." I made sure it didn't sound like a question because that would set Amanda off again.

  "She is. She said we should sort it out. And I have."

&n
bsp; I groaned inside. Colette was a great principal in all ways except one: she hated inter-staff conflict. She had to have known that 'you guys sort it out' wouldn't work with Amanda and Veronica but she'd done it anyhow. Her request that I be there to help now made more sense: she wanted me to be the buffer between the two of them. Amanda's calmness also made sense, because she was going to take over the room so Veronica would have no choice but to stay where she was even though she needed the spare room more.

  I knew Veronica would be devastated by what had happened to her room. In her fifteen-plus years of teaching she'd collected lots of books and resources, most of which were now water-logged or even destroyed. Amanda had obviously lost things too but she didn't have the same history with her materials since she hadn't even been teaching for two years yet. But there was no point in saying anything to Amanda about maybe allowing Veronica the spare room. She'd only get mad at me. Veronica would be mad too, but at Amanda not me.

  Although I'd feel bad anyhow, like I always did when I couldn't give everyone exactly what they wanted.

  I sighed. "Well, what can I do to help?"

  Amanda pointed at the French teacher's rolling cart, stored in the corner. "Take the junk off that and bring the stuff from my room down here. Whatever's not wrecked, I mean. I'll work on putting it away."

  It did make more sense for me to drag the heavy cart with its wonky wheel up and down the hallway, since if I put the stuff away Amanda wouldn't know where to find it, so I said, "I'll clear it off in my room," and headed out.

  Once I'd stacked Dominique's books and teaching supplies neatly on top of my bookshelf, I loaded up as many of Amanda's things as I could fit then managed to coerce the mind-of-its-own cart back down the hall.

  I'd half-expected Amanda not to be doing anything when I returned, but she was working so hard she barely looked up at my arrival. On my third trip back to her room the explanation dawned on me: the more established she was in the spare room when Veronica arrived, the harder it would be for Veronica to get her kicked out.

  And I was helping her. I didn't like it, but she was my best friend, and one of them would certainly get the room so why shouldn't it be Amanda?

  As I gathered another load of Amanda's things I heard muffled crying nearby, so I left the cart and followed the sound to the kindergarten room.

  Tosca stood just inside the doorway with her hands over her face.

  "I'm so sorry," I said, feeling awkward. Tosca seemed nice, but she was so shy I barely knew her even after months of working together. I had no idea how to make her feel better.

  She turned to me, swiping the tears from her face. "Sorry. Shouldn't be crying at work. I know Amanda and Veronica are worse off, so I guess I'm lucky, but..." She nudged an overturned bin with her foot then gave a strangled sob.

  My heart breaking for her, I said, "Look, I have to finish taking Amanda's stuff down to her, but then do you want me to help you?"

  She sniffed, then took a long deep breath and let it out slowly. "But what about your room?"

  "It's got dirty floors but otherwise it's all good," I said, feeling uncomfortably like I was bragging though I didn't mean to. "I'm lucky."

  "I'm glad," she said. "That's great."

  Though I couldn't imagine how, she seemed genuinely pleased that I'd been spared the disaster she'd suffered. It made me want to help her even more. "So let me take this to Amanda then I'll be back. Deal?"

  "Deal." She smiled though her eyes had again filled with tears. "Thank you. So much."

  "No problem." I returned her smile, feeling awkward in the face of her gratitude. "See you soon."

  When I delivered the cart to Amanda, she said, "Three more trips, do you think?"

  "Actually, I need to go help Tosca."

  I began explaining why but she cut me off with, "We're not done here, though. Come on, fifteen more minutes will really help me and it won't make a difference to Tosca."

  Given the state of her room I thought it might. But Amanda needed me too.

  I stood, torn, and she said, "Just finish up with me then go. It'll be fine."

  Fifteen minutes wouldn't be that bad. I was about to say okay when she said, "Oh, and that chicken didn't work."

  I frowned. "It didn't taste right? I think I followed the recipe."

  "No, it tasted fine. But he didn't propose."

  "Well, maybe it takes longer than one day. I mean, he'd have to get a ring and everything."

  She brightened. "Yeah, that's probably it. Well, go get those three trips done."

  Unfortunately, the three trips ended up being five and it took me well over half an hour. Every time I passed Tosca's room I told her I'd be there soon, but though she didn't seem angry at me my words felt more hollow every time I saw her slaving away alone.

  At last Amanda's old room was empty of everything she'd need to teach for the next few weeks. She then wanted me to help her put away the last load I'd brought, but I couldn't do it to Tosca. "I really have to go help--"

  "Fine, I guess I can do this alone."

  "Sorry," I said. "It's just that she's all by herself up there."

  Amanda looked around. "I don't see anyone else here, do you?"

  "No, but---"

  She rolled her eyes. "I'm kidding, Megan. I'm fine for now but I'll let you know when I need you again."

  "Okay," I said softly, feeling stupid, and escaped to Tosca's room.

  She smiled when I arrived and waved off my "Sorry it took so long" with "It's totally fine. I just really appreciate your help."

  Her sincerity embarrassed me, so I said, "Well, let's see what I can do. Anything in particular I should pick up?"

  She looked around, and I did too. She'd managed to reload quite a few bins but most of the room was still a mess. "Everything?"

  I smiled at her. "Will do."

  We'd barely been at it five minutes, working in silence although occasionally smiling awkwardly at each other, when a loud "Amanda did what?" burst forth in the hall.

  Tosca and I exchanged "Oh, hell, here it comes" glances.

  We didn't have to wait long.

  "She's taken the spare room," Veronica said as she burst in. "How am I supposed to teach in what's left of my room?"

  Tosca and I sat silently in the middle of the still-cluttered carpet. I had no idea what to say.

  "I guess you helped her move," she said to me. "Thanks a lot."

  "Veronica, I... I'm sorry, but..."

  She waved her hand at me. "I know. She's too bitchy to ignore. Well, her old room's in better shape than mine so maybe I'll just move in there and see how she likes it."

  She stomped out.

  Tosca and I didn't speak for a moment then she said, "Isn't this just the best March Break ever?"

  Her wry tone made me laugh, and relieved some of my embarrassment over having her see Veronica telling me off.

  She laughed too, then we carried on cleaning up in a silence that seemed more companionable than before.

  Chapter Five

  I made a quick trip at lunch to buy running shoes but otherwise spent the rest of the day helping Tosca as much as I could, with occasional departures whenever Amanda needed more help, while trying to avoid the livid Veronica who was telling anyone who'd listen that she should have been given the spare classroom since she had more students. She had a point, but challenging Amanda had never worked for me and I didn't want to start now. I just wanted everyone happy, and I couldn't see how to make that happen.

  The whole thing was exhausting, so I decided to leave the school a little before five so I'd have time to go home and feed my guinea pig and have a snack and a rest before the run, but Amanda spotted me at the door. "Hell of a day, huh?"

  "Yup. But Tosca's got her room nearly back together, and so do you." I didn't mention Veronica's ongoing frustration, knowing she wouldn't care. "Now I just have to hope my kids grew up a bit over the break."

  Every school occasionally gets a class that seems to have been put toget
her by Satan himself, and this year I had it. Though I did like the kids as individuals, as a group they became unappreciative and messy and occasionally downright rude, and since I mostly dealt with them as a group I'd begun dreaming of the end of the school year way back in October.

  She pretended to crack a whip. "If not, I'll get them into shape in the fall."

  Annoyance sparked through me. "Trust me, I've tried."

  She rolled her eyes. "Come on, I didn't mean it like that. They'll grow up sometime, that's all."

  Veronica had said the same thing at the end of June last year when I'd told her how nervous I was about having her class, and they hadn't done any growing up that I could see. But I just said, "Yeah, maybe." No point in arguing: she'd never agree with me.

  "Come help me choose a restaurant," she said, beginning to head down the hall toward her new room.

  I caught up to her, hoping this wouldn't take long. "For what?"

  "James and I are going to stay in Niagara Falls tonight. His idea. I figure he wants to make his proposal special. So I need to decide where we should go for dinner."

  I wouldn't go to the finest restaurant on the planet if it meant I had to marry James, but I sat down at the table she'd covered in brochures and helped her pick out the prettiest places. She told me all about her and James' plans, while I nodded and smiled and wondered how much it would cost to hire someone to push James over the Falls and make it look like an accident, then she said, "Well, I'd better get going. Have to pack."

  I glanced at my watch. Nearly six. "Crud, I'm going to be late for my new running group. Okay, see you Monday."

  "Yup."

  I'd just set foot out the front door when I heard Veronica calling my name. I turned back, and she said, "I'm going to lend some of my books, the ones that didn't get soaked anyhow, to a friend from university. Could you give me a hand carrying them out?"

  "If it's quick," I said, hurrying inside.

  It wasn't. She hadn't decided which of her books her friend would want, and then we had to make two trips because she insisted on taking so many.