“What high school did you go to?” he asked.
“Clark.”
“That can’t be it. I went to Vegas. What about junior high?”
“I don’t think we met at school.” She found it charming that he seemed equally perplexed by the accord between them.
“At any rate, I’m glad we finally met, someplace other than a store,” he added. “So what do you teach, and how come I haven’t seen you at school?”
“Probably because I’m tucked away in one of the computer labs off the beaten path.”
“Computers. Very cool.”
The discomfort Sophie felt when they first began dancing disappeared, and she was now oddly at home, even though they were silent for the rest of the song. They stared at one another, each with the faintest of smiles. Sam brought Sophie’s hand to his chest and held it there, as his other hand rested just above the tied bow on the back of her floral sundress. Sophie rarely wore dresses, if ever, but was glad she did tonight. She felt very girly, feminine, like she was in some romantic scene of a movie.
He briefly shifted his view to the top of her head, then pursed his lips and turned away, trying to be discreet. She’d forgotten all about it until now. “It’s my bangs, isn’t it?” She lifted her hand to do something with them. “Oh God, how bad is it?”
“Yeah, they kinda got a mind of their own,” he admitted. He bent down to get a better look, his expression all business, as he gently tried to coax the unruly strands with his fingers. With his face directly in front of hers, she scrunched her mouth and stared at the ceiling, trying to endure this ridiculous moment. Lisa was absolutely right. Why did you have to take the scissors to them today? And you thought the reprimand from your hair dresser would be bad enough. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Lisa shaking her head and laughing.
Six
“How is she feeling? Any better?” Sophie asked as Christian let her in.
“She says the pain is starting to let up, but you know how she is. She won’t let on.”
Christian had phoned Sophie to let her know that Evelyn had been having chest pains, so bad that she needed him to pick her up from work the night before. Evelyn was a hostess at a very high-end restaurant on the Strip. She was once a teacher, like Sophie, but when Christian stopped working, she needed something that paid better. For the most part, the position was ideal. It paid very well in the way of tips, and wasn’t physically strenuous. However, it still required a lot of hours on her feet.
“Has she been to the doctor?” Sophie headed toward their kitchen with a sack of groceries she picked up at the health food store.
“Yeah. I took her this morning.” He took the bag from her and began putting the food into the refrigerator. “It’s the pleurisy again.” Evelyn had suffered through this inflammation of the lining of her lungs many times.
“How has she been eating? Is she eating well?” She realized she was giving him the third degree, but didn’t care.
“No,” he answered. “She just grabs whatever is convenient. I keep telling her she needs to eat better.”
Sophie’s spirits from the night before were deflating at a rapid pace. She stepped between him and the refrigerator, then firmly took him by the shoulders. “Christian,” she said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. “Did it ever cross your mind to cook something for her, so she doesn’t have to grab whatever?” Or are your stupid drawings all you care about?
He simply stared at her.
My God, I have got to find her a new husband! She clenched her hands and shook her head. He knew. He knew that stress aggravated her illness. He knew that lack of rest did the same. All of it!
She took a seat at the kitchen table. “Why can’t you just help her? Even a little bit?”
“What’s going on?” Evie appeared in the kitchen, wearing a long silk nightgown. “Soph, what are you doing here?” Christian stood there with a pained expression on his face, while Sophie tried to calm herself. Evie studied one, then the other, waiting for a response.
“I just thought I’d bring by some food,” Sophie replied.
“I called her,” Christian said. “And told her you’d been sick. I thought you might want to see her.”
Sophie tried to make sense of the unspoken communication that went on between them. Evie was clearly upset that he had told Sophie she wasn’t feeling well, but then came the flash of recognition over her sister’s face. Christian then swiveled his body and stared at the microwave. Sophie was confused by the whole exchange.
“I’m gonna go out for awhile. Let you spend some time with Sophie.” As Christian passed Evie, he kissed her.
“Chris. . . .”
He smiled dismally before closing the front door behind him.
Evie remained where she was, shoulders drooping, and brought her hand to her forehead. “What did you say to him?”
“Nothing. I just told him he needs to help you more,” Sophie answered gingerly. “How are you feeling?”
Evie couldn’t contain her tears any longer and fled to the living room. Sophie jumped up to follow her.
Her sister was hunched over on the couch, elbows on her knees, when Sophie sat down and ran her fingers through her hair to soothe her. “What is it? What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“What’s wrong is that I need to be able to vent! I need to be able to talk to my own sister without her judging me, or telling me what to do!”
Sophie sat upright, taken aback. “What? What do you mean?”
“Do you know why he called you over here?” Evie asked. Sophie shrugged. Evie slumped back into the couch with her arms lifeless at her sides. “He thinks I should leave him.” She paused, waiting for some sort of reaction from Sophie.
Sophie took a deep breath, because she was dying to say, Then do it! She stopped herself. “What has that got to do with him calling me?”
Evie pushed her hair from her face and stared up at the ceiling. “Because he knows that you don’t like him, and—”
“It’s not that I—”
“Let me finish. Please!”
Sophie complied.
“He knows that you don’t like him, and since he hasn’t been able to convince me to leave him, he hopes you’ll come over, point out every single thing he’s doing wrong, and that I’ll listen to you.”
Sophie lowered her eyes.
“Like I’m some ignoramus who can’t think for myself!” Evie gave her a pointed stare.
Sophie fumbled for words. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t meaning to.”
The last thing she wanted to do was create more stress for her sister, but that’s exactly what she was doing. Clearly, Evie was far more annoyed with Sophie right now than Christian. Truthfully, she wasn’t even sure if Evie was annoyed with Christian at all. How could that be?
She rested her head on Evie’s fragile chest, her way of admitting she’d crossed a line. She wished that they were as close as they used to be, but her distaste for Christian these past few years had taken its toll on their relationship. As much as Sophie tried to be supportive, or at the very least, keep her mouth shut where he was concerned, she just couldn’t seem to do it.
Evie put her arm around her. “This is why I don’t share things with you,” she explained. “I want to, but you can’t try to fix things. I’m a big girl.” She patted Sophie on the knee. “I’m your big sister.”
Sophie sat up, considering her words. “I don’t like seeing you sick, and I want you to be happy.”
“I know. But nobody’s happy all the time, Sophie. Just be here for me.”
Sophie wasn’t sure she could pull it off. Being there for Evie always meant offering her two cents.
Seven
“Hey, Karen, here’s Elijah’s backpack.” Sophie dropped it on the floor near the classroom door. “He left it in my room yesterday afternoon, and I figured if I brought it to you, he wouldn’t have to come get it during your class this morning.”
Karen glanced up from her desk and its stack of
papers. “Oh, thanks, but it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if he left my room to get it.”
Sophie scrunched her nose and nodded. “I hear ya.”
“How has he been for you lately?”
“Eh. It’s kind of a roller coaster with him. He’ll go a while and be halfway decent, but then he’s gotta turn around and just be heinous. Long and short of it, he’s a mean, mean little man.” Sophie took a seat at one of the desks.
“He’s an asshole!” Karen said before getting up to write the day’s assignment on the board.
“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”
“Well, I’m sorry, but he is.” Karen was young, in her mid-twenties, always smiling and personable. She put in a lot of extra hours tutoring students during her lunch and after school, but whenever the subject of Elijah came up, her positive attitude went out the window.
Karen turned from the board and put a hand on her hip. “The other day in class, he was doing everything he could to pull me into a power struggle. He was awful! You could even tell by the looks on the other kids’ faces, they thought so, too.” Her attention shifted toward the door. “Hey, Sam! C’mere for a minute, would you?”
Sam happened to be passing in the hallway outside. He back-stepped to see who was calling him, and grinned when he realized Sophie was in the room. “Why, hello ladies.” He didn’t enter, but instead leaned on the doorjamb.
“You have Elijah Jones, don’t you?” Karen asked. “How has he been in your class?”
As Karen posed her question, Sam’s gaze drifted to Sophie, offering her a modest smile. He and Sophie hadn’t seen each other since the night at the karaoke bar the Friday before. Sophie had wondered how things would be at work, if he might pretend like nothing significant happened between them. After all, you never knew what to expect of people. However, she was relieved that he seemed genuinely happy to see her again.
Finally, he gave a half-hearted shrug in response to Karen’s question about the boy, as if he knew where the conversation was going, but didn’t want to start bashing the kid. “He’s. . . .”
“Ah! So he’s a jerk in your class, too!” Karen said. “That gives me some solace. At least he’s sharing his winning personality equally.”
Sophie stood up and tugged at the bottom of her blouse. “I’m gonna head back to my room. Let’s pray to the gods that Elijah will be bearable today.”
“Yeah, right!” Karen snorted. “Thanks for bringing the backpack.”
Sam stepped aside to let Sophie by, then followed her into the hallway. “And how was the rest of your weekend?” he asked.
“Not bad . . . not bad.” She was still bothered by her confrontation with Evie. “So where is your classroom? Can I see it?”
“Right down here, just a couple doors away from Karen,” he answered, leading the way.
When they reached his room, Sophie was immediately struck by all of the posters of athletes on the walls. “Bit of a sports fan, are we?”
“Ah, guilty. What about you?”
She made a face and shook her head.
“I suppose I’ll have to let that slide,” he teased.
She couldn’t believe all the clutter! How he knew where to find anything was beyond her. Sophie wouldn’t have been able to function.
“Yeah, I know. Kinda messy,” he said, as if reading her mind. His desk was in the corner next to a small table that held a mini coffee maker. He picked up a pile of student papers, trying to straighten them into a neat stack. “You know how it is. You get busy during the day, and before you know it, you’re buried.”
“I used to know how it is, back when I taught elementary,” she admitted. “Luckily, I don’t have all that paperwork to deal with anymore. Everything’s done on the computer—quizzes, assignments. I tell ya, Google Docs is a beautiful thing.” She folded her arms across her chest as she examined the paperback novels on one of his bookcases. “You have Milkweed!” She pulled it from the shelf.
“Yeah, it’s a great book.”
“I love this book! I read it to my fifth grade class. Of course, a lot of it went over their heads. But I had this one boy, very bright, and Jewish, so he knew all about the Holocaust. Such a sad story. I had to get him to read parts of it to the class because I would just start crying.” Her face flushed. “The kids all thought it was kind of weird.”
“I bet they liked it, the fact that you were so into the story.”
“I don’t know about that,” she replied. “Anyway, I don’t know how you teach English. Ugh! I used to hate to grade writing. And then trying to get them ready for that state writing test. I swear, I thought I was going to get an ulcer.”
“It’s not that bad.” He looped his thumbs in his front pockets. “I kinda like it.”
“Really? Even when they still don’t know they’re supposed to put a period at the end of a sentence? Or what a noun is?”
“Yeah, I guess even then.” He chuckled, leaning against his desk.
She walked between the aisles of desks, which were arranged in pairs to make space available in the room. “You’re quite the marvel, Mr. Collins.”
“Nah.”
“I guess I better head back before the first bell rings.” She glanced at her watch. “You’ll have to come my way sometime—No Man’s Land.”
“Sure. Do you think you could be my computer guru this year? Sad to admit, but I’m pretty technologically challenged.” All teachers had a computer of their own because gradebooks and attendance were kept electronically.
“At your service,” she said with a salute. Why did you do that? That was totally lame. “Well, have a good day.”
“Sophie?” His forehead wrinkled as he rubbed his jaw.
“You already have a computer question, don’t you?”
“Uh, no.”
She tilted her head, raising her eyebrows slightly.
“I know we don’t know each other that well yet, so if you don’t feel comfortable accepting, I understand. But . . . could I make you dinner sometime?”
Sophie beamed, her stomach fluttering. “How can a girl refuse when a boy offers to cook?”
***
“Miss, why is he sitting way over there now?” Elijah asked, referring to the student who used to sit next to him. Elijah didn’t even know his name.
“Because he asked to have his computer seat moved,” Sophie answered. Normally she didn’t grant requests for seat changes unless she felt there was a good reason, but the student complained that Elijah constantly bothered him to do his work for him, and was just all around mean. The truth was, Sophie could think of only one kid in the class who tolerated Elijah, and even they had a sort of love-hate relationship.
“Why does he get to have his seat moved?” Elijah complained.
“Why does it matter to you? You’re the one who said you two don’t get along.” As if you get along with anyone.
“Well, can I have my seat moved?”
“You’re fine where you are.”
“That ain’t fair. How come he gets to move and I don’t?” The rest of the students were working on the assignment, and the girl three seats down from him glanced his way and rolled her eyes.
He’s pulling you in, Sophie. Don’t let him. Why are you arguing with this child? “Elijah, just drop this and do your work. If you need help with anything, then let me know.”
“W-o-w-w-w,” Elijah said, drawing out the word. It was his most overused response, and his passive aggressive way of saying, you are quite the bitch. If that wasn’t the meaning, Sophie would sure like to know what it was; she had to go to her happy place every time he said it. A nice beach somewhere, with a beautiful fruity cocktail.
He got up from his seat at the computer and started walking past the rest of the students.
“Elijah, what are you doing now?”
“I gotta get something out of my backpack.” The perimeter of the room was lined with the computers facing the walls, while the desks in the center pointed toward
Sophie’s desk. Of course, he took the most indirect route from his computer to his desk. Sophie was about to point that out, but then decided against it. It just wasn’t worth it. It’s not like we haven’t had that conversation before. She eyed him the entire time, knowing the whole purpose of getting out of his seat was so that he could aggravate one of the students along the way.
Sure enough, the second she thought it was safe to turn her attention to something else, he snatched someone’s paper. He never did it in a mean, bullying way—at least she didn’t think so. It was always passed off as a joke, but Sophie could never figure out if he was trying to harass, or simply relating with his peers the only way he knew how.
“Okay, Elijah. I think it’s time to call home,” Sophie said as she reached for the phone hanging on the wall.
“No! No, Miss! I’m going back right now,” he said and shuffled back to his computer. Clearly, he had no reason to go to his backpack in the first place, other than to be a total pill.
Sophie had called his mother a couple of times earlier in the year, and Mom made it clear that she wanted to be notified when he was being a problem. Watching his reaction now, Sophie wondered why she didn’t play this card more often. She loathed having to call parents and felt as if she should be able to take care of the situation herself. She kept the phone in her hand. “I’m not doing this with you every day, Elijah. So fix it!”
“Okay, okay, Miss. I was just playing!”
She hated to admit it, but calling a student’s mother was mostly a hit-and-miss proposition, especially if there was no dad in the picture. Sometimes a phone call straightened the kid out, but most of the time it didn’t. On the other hand, when you called a dad . . . Sophie loved calling dads!
At the beginning of last year, she had another student, Malcolm, who was giving her a lot of trouble. Kind of a large boy, bigger than Sophie. He was rude, disrespectful, and loud. One day when he came in, he decided it was a nifty idea to fling his backpack halfway across the room. Sophie laid into him for it, and that afternoon made a call home. She happened to reach his dad, and when she told him what happened, he apologized and said very calmly, “You will be having no more trouble from my son. I guarantee it.”
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