Falling for Mr. Slater

by Kendall Day

  “I know,” I say and suck down a sip of water from my thermos.

  “When will I ever see the full extent of Roxie Rambling’s basketball superpower? You can’t leave me in the dark like this.”

  “Yo, Mr. Slater,” a familiar voice hollers. “What the hell you doin’ here?”

  Attila, Quentin, and a couple other kids from our team at Bracken strut up with a ball of their own.

  Slater glances to me and says softly, “Gettin’ my ass kicked.”

  The boys bust out laughing and point at him.

  “You gettin’ beat by a girl?” Quentin apparently can’t believe his eyes.

  Slater sighs. “Yep. I sure am. I could use some help. Anybody wanna play?”

  “Me!” Attila shouts. “But I ain’t gon’ play on your team. You suck.” He pushes closer to Roxie, who lifts her hand for a slap. Attila smacks it.

  “I got you, Mr. Slater,” Quentin says. “Attila can’t play for crap. He too short.” Then he leans over and whispers behind a lifted hand, “He think he black, but nah.”

  Attila flips him off. “We’ll see who too short.”

  “Hey, hey. No unsportsmanlike conduct,” Slater warns.

  “Sorry, Mr. Slater,” Attila says. I’m pretty sure he actually means it.

  The other two boys split up between the teams, and the game begins.

  The smiles on the kids’ faces are something I’ll never forget as each side battles toward eleven points. Every boy snags at least one basket. Slater is so sweet with them too. He sacrifices shots to let the kids have a chance, and he compliments them on their plays.

  When I first arrived at Bracken Middle, this Slater didn’t exist. He was grumpy, judgmental Slater who saw only the parts of the students he wanted to see, which weren’t the best ones. He saw reactions rather than causes for those reactions. He saw the kids like he saw me back in middle school.

  But watching his interactions with them now, I know for a fact that he’s changed as much as Attila has. He’s a kinder, more understanding man, and a better teacher for it. I like to think I influenced some of this change, but really, it had to come from within. This is all him.

  I’m proud to be with Jack Slater.

  After a sweaty twenty-minute-long battle, our team wins when Attila scores his only basket and tips us up to eleven points. He jumps around, holding his arms up in a victory formation as I walk over and offer handshakes to Slater and his teammates.

  “Good game,” I say to each, and they repeat the words back.

  Attila and his friend look at me funny for a moment, as if being sportsmanlike is a foreign concept. But then they take the cue and mimic me.

  “That was fun,” Quentin says. “Can y’all come back and play again sometime?”

  Slater and I exchange looks. I’d love to, but I’m not sure Slater’s down with it. I start to say maybe, but he interrupts before I can speak.

  “We’d be honored,” Slater says. “Maybe when it gets colder, we can talk to Coach Poss about organizing some afterschool basketball in the gym.”

  “Ooh, hell yeah!” Attila shouts. “I gotta keep my game up in the winter. You really do that, Mr. Slater?”

  “For you, Attila?” Slater says. “Absolutely.”

  The kid’s face lights up like Slater just gave him a thousand bucks. “Yes!”

  Slater and I gather our stuff to leave. He tosses over his shoulder, “And by the way, you’re gonna be internet stars by next week. Details on Monday.”

  “What?” echoes behind us.

  “We gon’ be on the morning announcements?” Attila calls.

  Slater turns around, walking backward to the car. “You gon’ be on everything.”

  Attila’s face explodes with sheer glee. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  “Enjoy your weekend,” Slater says, grinning too.

  “Oh, you’re getting the royal treatment tonight,” I murmur as we walk away. “I’m gonna polish your knob like a maid on meth.”

  Slater nods as if he planned it that way all along.

  * * *

  ASSESSMENT: All men and boys in need of learning have been properly schooled. EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS.

  Tying Up Loose Ends

  [Slater]

  * * *

  LEARNING GOAL: Jack Slater will employ his suave social skills and good looks to win the girl.

  The kids of Team 6A did become internet stars the next week. The video showcasing Bracken Middle’s students and teachers went viral on YouTube, earning us over fifty thousand hits in a matter of days. Real estate agents in the county got hold of it and used it to sell houses to prospective buyers looking for the best school to put their preteens in. The state superintendent made good on his promise to post the video on the Department of Education site and even asked us to make a new one for them.

  Not only did our kids get to bask in the glow of the spotlight, but office referrals in the ensuing months dropped by over fifty percent. Attendance is up across all three grades. A slew of kids signed up for after-school activities that teachers suddenly became a lot more interested in sponsoring. There’s now a drama club and an A/V club with exciting projects in the works, and Slaughter, Poss, Acuff, and I have a Bracken basketball camp lined up for this summer with a waiting list a mile long. Special guest coach: star college basketball player Roxie Rambling.

  Teachers across the state saw what happens when you give kids a chance to shine. Roxie’s little movement inspired a wave of grassroots videos popping up everywhere that prove you don’t need a massive budget to help students succeed. All you need are kids who are willing to learn, dedicated teachers, and a little help from your local community.

  In other news, Darcy Kuntz’s name is no longer featured on the Teacher of the Year plaque in the front office. Mine isn’t there either (Love won, and I’m genuinely happy she did—she’s a class act), but I don’t care. The recognition isn’t important to me anymore. It’s just a name on a plaque, and I’m a great teacher without it.

  Darcy still holds a massive grudge against me for calling out her cheating shit to Dragov. From what I can tell, their relationship has cooled. No more buddy-buddy barbecues. My friends on the eighth-grade hall say Darcy and Keith largely keep to themselves.

  I had a special package mailed anonymously to their house. Thought about sending it to school but figured everyone would know it was me, and I’d get in trouble for harassment, so I restrained (#PunIntended) myself. The box included an assless black rubber gimp suit in Keith’s size (ball gag included) and a wooden paddle engraved with “Teacher’s Pet” on one side, “Mistress Darcy” on the other. Neither of them spoke a word of it to anyone, but I’ll bet you both gifts get used on a regular basis. You’re welcome, Kuntzes.

  Speaking of the Teacher of the Year scandal, it turns out Savage didn’t boink Kristina King to help me get my revenge. King wanted her own revenge since Darcy was the reason she got transferred to the central office.

  In the months that have passed, Savage has taken a shine to King, though he’d never admit it to anyone, least of all me. I sometimes hear him talking in hushed tones on the phone late at night in his room. I’m pretty sure she’s on the other end of the line. I can’t remember the last time he went out hunting for babes. He claims it’s no fun without his wingman (#SadFace), but I think he’s just using my new relationship status as an excuse not to.

  Roxie graduated, passing her student teaching with flying colors, obviously. Dr. Davis only rode her ass about our relationship the one time, and after that, she didn’t mention it again. She and Dragov must’ve had a powwow about the Professional Standards Commission regulations and realized it wasn’t worth any further nagging. Or maybe Roxie’s killer project made Davis look like a hero to her cohorts up at the university, so she let shit go. Either way, Roxie’s last semester was nothing but net after we got past the initial string of fouls.

  Oh, and the oddest thing happened. Roxie and I started doing movie nights once a month with Elliott an
d David. Weird, right? They’re actually fun to hang with. Elliott still hasn’t come out to his parents, but his brother knows the deal and supports him. Elliott and David are great together. I hope they get their happily-ever-after one day.

  For as shitty as it started, this year turned out pretty fucking awesome.

  As I sit with old friends and new around the packed table at Oscar’s for staff development on the last day of school, I tap my margarita glass with a spoon to get my friends’ attention. The chatter dies down, and all eyes turn toward me.

  “I have a couple of quick things to say before we head off into the wild blue yonder of summer break,” I announce.

  Savage whistles loudly. “Free Bird!”

  I laugh and flip him off. “As you all know, today was Roxie’s last day of long-term subbing for Fortier.”

  “Boo!” Vino yells. A few others join her.

  Roxie’s bows in her seat. “Thank you, thank you.”

  I lay a hand on her back. “Despite us getting off on the wrong foot, Roxie-with-an-ie Rambling turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to Bracken Middle, and to me. I can’t thank her enough for the time she shared with our sixth graders and Fortier’s classes during her sabbatical. They’re sure to remember Rambling as one of the very best. It’s been an honor working with her.”

  “And bonking her,” Savage quips.

  I point at him. “Your words.”

  Everyone laughs.

  “But what Roxie doesn’t know is that Fortier decided she loves staying home with the new baby so much, she wants to be a full-time mom. She resigned today.”

  “No way.” Hope fills Roxie’s wide eyes as the implications sink in.

  “Yes, way,” I say. “I spoke with Dr. Dragov this afternoon. She asked if I thought you could handle teaching math. I told her I couldn’t think of anyone better. Spoiler alert, she smiled at my answer. I took it as a positive sign.”

  Roxie throws her arms around my shoulders and lights into me with her sweet lips. A chorus of “oohs” and “ahhs” and “hell yeahs!” erupts around us. I deepen the kiss to let everyone know Roxie’s mine and I’m hers, and we’re for real.

  When we break, I lift my margarita glass to her. “To Roxie Rambling, the funniest, hottest, fiercest teacher at Bracken Middle. We couldn’t twerk without you.”

  “To Roxie,” the teachers say.

  With a huge smile, she deals out a round of high fives. Once everyone returns to their own conversations, she leans closer.

  “Does Dragov really want to hire me? For a real teaching job?” she asks incredulously.

  “Of course, she does. She’s still riding the high of the other principals’ jealousy over what you accomplished for our school. You got this one wrapped up.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Her face beams with pride.

  “I can,” I say. “She offered to move me up to eighth grade too. Green’s dropping to seventh.”

  Her eyes widen. “Really? Are you gonna take it?”

  “Nope.”

  Her face falls. “Why not?”

  I nod to Witcher, Love, and Vino a few seats away. “I like my new team just fine, thank you. Besides, if I have to teach on your team and see you every free minute of every day, what will I have to look forward to when we get home?” I joke.

  “Mmm,” she says. “You have a point there. There’s truth to that ‘familiarity breeds contempt’ theory.”

  “And I have to maintain some semblance of mystery and pay homage to my former days as a manwhore. It’s all about keeping up appearances.”

  “I know the truth.” She settles against my shoulder and jerks her chin toward my teammates. “You’ve gone granola and need to be with your people.”

  “So, it’s like that?” I say. “You convert me to crunchy-dom with your ‘Kumbaya’ ways and turn around and forsake me to join the big boys? That’s cold, Miss Rambling.”

  “No, I call ’em like I see ’em. You’re a pushover.”

  “Total pushover,” I agree.

  “I love you, Jack Slater,” she says softly, nuzzling into my neck.

  “Really?” I say. As if I didn’t know.

  She giggles. “Yes. Really.”

  “It’s a good thing. Because I love you too. Fiercely. Madly. Completely.” I press a kiss to her cheek and nod at her drink. “Finish that. There’s somewhere we need to be before the sun goes down.”

  She looks at me with a puzzled expression and narrows her eyes. “What are you up to?”

  “Hopefully, I’ll be getting up in these pants soon,” I say, slipping a finger into the waistband of her slacks. “But we gotta make a quick stop before we head home.”

  Roxie turns up her glass and wipes her mouth with a napkin. “Seriously, Slater, am I really gonna get this job?”

  She’s cute when she’s wired.

  “Stop second-guessing yourself. You’re Roxie Fucking Rambling. After what you did for Bracken Middle’s image, Dragov has all the justification she needs for the Board to approve your hiring. They’re slobbering all over themselves to get you on the payroll,” I say, catching a whiff of her hair. It smells like flowers.

  I want to bury my face in every bit of her. To inhale her. Devour her.

  Time to go.

  I push the remainder of my drink toward Savage across the table and tell him, “The rest is yours. See you at home later.”

  “Stay outta trouble, you crazy kids,” he says with a knowing smile and a smug shake of his head.

  Savage knows what’s up. I quietly bump fists with him.

  Goodbyes bounce around us, and soon Roxie and I are in the Camaro heading toward the university’s campus.

  “I’m not dressed for b-ball today,” she says when I park in the empty lot near the basketball arena.

  I slip my fingers between hers and navigate toward the notorious basketball post where she and I got busy our first night together. The sun’s heading for a slam dunk over the horizon, but there’s plenty of light to catch its last few rays with something sparkly.

  From my backpack, I pull out my basketball, drop to one knee and hold it up to her.

  She smiles down at me, her brown skin glowing with yellow highlights from the sun beaming over her shoulders. “Get up, Slater. What are you doing?”

  “Roxie Rambling,” I say. “Will you accept this basketball as a token of my love for you?”

  “You’re so silly. Of course, I accept it. But I don’t need no basketball as a symbol of your love. I got you. And these shoes.” She gestures to her feet with a grin and opens her palm for me to drop the ball into. I do.

  And then I pull out the sparkly thing and hold it up for her.

  “How about an engagement ring instead?”

  Her jaw drops in sync with the ball, which bounces away. She covers her mouth and stares at me, tears filming her eyes.

  “You big jerk,” she finally says as a droplet leaks down her cheek.

  “I love you more than basketball—even more than winning at basketball. I want to marry you, Roxie Rambling. I want you to be my wife.”

  “Even if it means I keep beating you at basketball?” she says, choking.

  “Especially if it means that,” I say. “You’ve taught me so much about myself this year. I can’t wait to see how many other ways you’ll school me over the course of our lifetime together.”

  “You and me?” She sniffles. “Married? Gah, I’m not sure about this, Slater.”

  I figured she might be reluctant after the whole mess with Elliott, but I’m confident she’ll choose us, if not today, then one day soon.

  I stand up and take her left hand, then slip the ring on her finger. “Wear the ring this weekend. Think on it. When you’re ready to make the best decision of your life, let me know. I can be patient.”

  She stares up into my eyes, and I know she’s hooked. There’s too much love beaming from her to say no. Her decision is already made.

  “You are my sun, Jack Slater,” she
breathes and kisses me with all the passion of a woman who knows she’s got the best man on the planet. When our lips separate, she says, “I’d be honored to be Roxie Slater.”

  My heart swells, and I kiss her again, touching hips and mouths and any other body parts that decide to line up. I come up for air after the passionate lip-lock and glance around. The college students are gone for summer break, and the sun has officially bounced over the edge of the world, leaving us in growing darkness.

  “I think our first order of business is christening this pole again,” I joke. “Maybe we should get married here.”

  Her eyes pop with excitement. “Ha! That would be perfect. We can invite Attila and Quentin and all the other kids.”

  “Just think, if you snag Fortier’s job, you might get to teach them all again in eighth grade,” I tease.

  “I wouldn’t mind,” she says, stroking me through my jeans. “Now, regarding that christening you mentioned …”

  I shove my hips forward to prove I’m ready whenever she is.

  She smiles.

  “When we’re done with that, I’ll show you how to strip a net,” she says confidently.

  My mouth falls to her neck and nibbles. “The pleasure would be all mine, Mrs. Almost Slater.”

  * * *

  ASSESSMENT: Jack Slater has successfully landed the girl who makes his life worth living. EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS.

  About the Author

  Kendall Day is a former Teacher of the Year and current Creature of the Beer. Well, that last part isn’t exactly true. She actually prefers vodka over beer.

  A juggler of multiple personalities, she also writes erotic romance and urban fantasy under an eerily similar moniker. The fact that the last names rhyme is intentional. The identical first names are a lucky stroke of serendipity.

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