Pitchfork in the Road
The Devilish Divas Series, Book Five
M.J. Schiller
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Copyright © M.J. Schiller, 2018. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-64457-004-3
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Before You Go…
SIN WORTH THE PENANCE
Also by M.J. Schiller
About the Author
Chapter 1
Zoe
Being a kindergarten teacher required the creativity of a teenager with a basketball-sized dent in the side of the family car, the patience of a sloth racer, and the energy of a fairy hopped up on Mountain Dew. I stared at the little girls before me. This was the fourth squabble in as many minutes I’d had to negotiate my way through.
“Susie said we’re not twins.”
Twins? True, they both wore matching high pigtails. They both were wearing the same pink sweatshirt and jeans. But, A. they weren’t even sisters, and B. they weren’t even the same race. I sighed. I had carpal tunnel from rubbing my temples, and the nurse pulled out an empty ibuprofen bottle when I stopped by earlier. Apparently, there’d been a run on pain killers and those frozen sponges I’d seen a half-dozen kids nursing today, without any physical evidence of an injury.
“Girls…” They stared at me with eyes nearly as wide as Bugsby, the poor rabbit in a cage at the back of the room. I’m pretty sure he had a nervous breakdown when Trenton Knutsen brought in his cat for show and tell. “Here’s the thing. Most twins have the same Mommy.” They looked at each other, and Bethany’s lips began to quiver. “But—” I added quickly, “—you two are soul twins. Not many people know about soul twins, and they’re much closer than regular twins.”
J’hera’s brow crunched up. “Soul twins?”
I nodded, holding my breath.
She turned to Bethany and whispered loudly, “We’re soul twins.”
Bethany threw her arms around her twin. “Yea!” Then they took off as one, running across the alphabet carpeting to the playhouse where they tended to hang out together.
The corners of my lips lifted. “Crisis number one-hundred-and-forty-three averted for the day.”
I loved my job. Sure, it was exhausting. Little kids can wear teachers out, even if I was one of the youngest ones on the staff. Their endless energy was simply draining at times. After each summer break, it always took me a bit to get my stamina back. But there were hundreds of mini-moments throughout the day that made it worth the crappy pay and headaches. The enthusiasm of a kid learning to tie his shoe for the first time, for example. Or two of my students skipping away, holding hands, oblivious to any care. I longed for those days. And the love they showered on me, so freely…. I felt unworthy of it at times, but I soaked it up anyway.
I raised my gaze to survey the room, ever vigilant. My aide, Mimi, had started a story and the kids were gathered in a circle around the rocking chair she sat in. Everyone was paying attention. Everyone except Ryker. “Everyone except Ryker” had become a phrase ringing through my mind far too often. I hadn’t pegged him down yet. He seemed to live in his own separate world at times. Could he be on the autism spectrum? I worried about him. How could I draw him in and engage him?
One thing was for certain, he was a cute little devil. His long hair reminded me of my dad’s, with a bowl cut. A generously sized bowl. He was probably desperately in need of a haircut, but I liked it. He won my heart with the first “Hey, Teacher.” I smiled when he peered up and I crooked my finger at him. Without hesitation, he hopped up and ran across the carpet and around my desk. The aide glanced in his direction, but continued reading, knowing I was watching him. As I twisted to face him, he scrambled up into my lap so quickly it startled me.
“Well, hello, Ryker.” I chuckled, wrapping my arms around him. He reached for a crystal apple paperweight on my desk and I let him explore it, my hands on the outsides of his, a few inches away, in case it started making a path to the edge of my desk.
“Aren’t you enjoying the story, bud?”
He didn’t answer, spinning the apple by its stem like a top.
A gust of Colorado wind found the right angle to make its way through our open windows and, with a tremendous SLAM, it took an easel down. Several squeaks and squeals came from the carpeted area, and everyone in the room jumped. Everyone except Ryker.
“Oh, my!” Mimi exclaimed, and the knot of kids on the carpet giggled. She and I exchanged a smile, and she began to read again.
My heart pounded in my chest from fright, and I took a breath. Slowly, it dawned on me that Ryker’s reaction wasn’t normal. Why, when everyone else in the room experienced a brief freak out, did this little boy show no sign of being alarmed at all? Forgetting about protecting the apple, I brought a hand up near his ear and snapped my fingers. He didn’t move. My heart dove. Saying a silent prayer, I lowered my head, bringing my face near his other ear.
“Ryker?”
He didn’t show any signs of hearing me immediately, but, after a few seconds, spun to face me.
“Are you okay, buddy?”
He nodded, looking me straight in the eye. The open, earnest expression on his face, the way he unflinchingly studied me with big, round eyes, tugged at my heartstrings. Did he hear me? Or did he sense the movement and respond? Was he simply distracted, or was there some sort of hearing problem?
The bell rang and the room became a beehive of activity. I glanced toward his classmates, but Ryker put a chubby little hand on each of my cheeks and turned me to face him.
“I like you, Teacher.”
I know I’m not supposed to have favorites, but, dude, you’re making it hard.
“I like you, too, honey.” For a second, all the noise and activity faded away, and it was me and this singular child.
But only for a second. Kids rushe
d to their coat hooks and Ryker pushed away from the desk. His mini tennis shoes hit the linoleum, and he tore off. I stood and followed the tiny mob to the hallway, which smelled of paint. That was nothing new as the art classroom sat right across from us.
“Okay. Sariah’s the line leader for today.” I placed a hand on each of the young girl’s shoulders. “So, once you have your backpack and jacket, line up behind her.”
Sariah, knowing it was her final hour in the sun, shined with pride. Tossing her curly dark mane over her purple backpack—which, not so coincidentally, matched her purple jacket—she twisted to make sure everyone was falling in behind her as they should be.
Toni, next in line, spoke up. “Miss McCord? Can I take Lola home with me?”
She’d snuck out a baby doll who wore a bonnet, but was completely naked besides that. Part of me wanted to say, “Sure. Keep it.” But I knew I couldn’t start a precedent. I squatted so I could be on eye level with her. I placed a hand on the doll. “You can’t take her home. But, I’ll tell you what—I’ll keep Lola at my desk, and tomorrow, when you get here, you can be the first one to play with her. How does that sound?”
She hesitated, a protest hovering on her pouty little lips, then broke out into a smile and shook her head rapidly, relinquishing her prize.
“I’ll take good care of her,” I whispered, giving her a smile I hoped would reassure any remaining fears. Straightening, I called out, “Are we ready, K2?”
A variety of positive responses met my ear and I spun around to lead the group forward, holding Sariah’s hand. Mimi trailed the group, circumventing a few stragglers who wanted to go back into the classroom. I knew some of these poor kids wouldn’t be returning home to a place they flourished in, like in our classroom. I hated sending those kids home.
After all the students left for the day, including Sammy, whose dad showed up a half-hour late, Mimi helped me clean up the room. I was troubled by my thoughts of Ryker. I knew he only had a mother listed on his file and made a mental note to email her later and suggest a conference.
“Zoe?”
“What?”
Mimi stared at me with her eyebrows raised.
“I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“I asked you three times if you needed anything else.”
“Oh. No. I’m good.” She turned to leave. “Hey, Mimi? Have you ever noticed a problem with Ryker’s hearing?”
“Like the fact he doesn’t like to do it?” She rolled her eyes. “He’s cute. But that kid’s a handful.”
“Yeah. I guess so.” I switched my laptop on, trying to shake off my unease. “Thanks.”
She hesitated at the door, her hand on the frame. “Why? Do you think there’s a problem?”
I frowned. “I’m not sure. But…you know when that easel fell over?”
She snorted, taking a step back into the room. “Yeah. I about peed my pants, which would have no doubt created the domino effect in my little listeners.”
I laughed. “Well, I’m glad you were able to control yourself then.”
“Me, too.” She grinned. “But…what about Ryker?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just…he didn’t jump.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding. That was like a shotgun blast.”
“I know. Scared the shit out of me.” I put a hand over my mouth. “I mean…crap. Scared the crap out of me.”
She leaned back outside the door and checked up and down the hall. “It’s cool. We’re the only ones here.”
I glanced up at the clock. “Geez. It’s only 4:00.”
“But it’s Friday, Miss McCord. Those of us with a social life….”
“Yeah. I need to get me one of those.” I waved a hand. “Have a great weekend, Mimi. Enjoy your bar hopping with Kathy, and I’ll see you on Monday.”
She left and I sat down to my computer to write Ryker’s mom. Halfway through the email my laptop made a whirring noise and powered down. “Damn.” I glanced up at the door. “I mean darn.” I closed the laptop and stuffed it in its carrying bag, grabbed my bomber jacket from the back of my chair, and crossed to the door. I stopped and gave the room one more look over before switching off the light and closing the door.
I stuck my head in the office on the way out. “Hi, Pam,” I sang out to the secretary/receptionist with a huge smile.
She grinned wryly. “What do you want?”
Coach Dietz, who was copying something, chuckled.
I stepped in the door. “So, my stupid laptop shut down again. Do you think you could send an email for me?”
She grabbed a pen. “Sure. Shoot.”
“The student’s name is Ryker, R-Y-K-E-R Rodriguez.” She jotted the info down. “Could you ask his mom to stop by and see me sometime after school? Tell her I want to talk to her about…umm…some minor concerns I have.”
“You got it.”
“Thanks.”
She sat back. “What do you have goin’ on this weekend?”
“Uhh…not much. You?”
She sighed. “We need to get a social life.”
The coach snorted. He was a married guy in his mid-thirties who made a drunken pass at me at a faculty outing my first year of teaching. We had long ago gotten over the awkwardness of that. However, should I ever run into his wife, who happened to be at the aforementioned faculty outing, it would probably still be a bit…uncomfortable.
“You should talk, Dietz. You’re still here at 4:15 on a Friday making copies,” I pointed out.
He continued to type in numbers as the machine spat out paper on the far end. I kept waiting for a sizzle and a cloud of smoke to rise from the beast of a copier. We were one of the better inner city schools, but our equipment was still ancient.
He twisted and pointed at me. “Good point.”
I smiled and winked at Pam, who grinned back. “Have a nice weekend, Pammie. See you on Monday.” I walked through the office to the outer door. “You, too, coach.” My mouth quirked when he made eye contact and grunted. Pam’s laughter followed me out the door.
It was fantastic out for a late September day and the weather and banter lifted my spirits. I spotted my little red Mazda. I scored one of the primo parking spaces in the front, one of the advantages of getting there early. As a student I was always late for school, as a teacher I was always one of the first to arrive.
One of the many paradoxes that is Zoe McCord.
“Hi, Miss McCord.”
I turned my head as a tall, lanky guy loped over to me. “Hi, Joe.” Joe, or Crosswalk Joe, as we called him, was the school’s safety guard. Students were long gone, but Joe liked to stick around the school until everyone left. He lived half a block from the school, so it didn’t take him long to get home when he was through. “How’s it going today?”
Joe got into step with me. “Oh, you know. Same as always. Were the kids good today?”
I smiled. “Yeah. Pretty well-behaved, on the whole. I’ve always got a few who keep me hoppin’, but it’s good for me.”
“Sure is,” he agreed congenially.
Some of the other teachers were spooked off by Joe. He was, as our family friend Killian Murphey would have said, “Just a bubble off true.” But he was harmless. Some claimed he showered in his reflective, fluorescent yellow and orange vest, as they saw him wearing it at the grocery store, at the mall, and an aide even claimed to have seen him wearing it at church.
“What are you doing with your free time this weekend, Miss McCord?”
“Ya know, it’s so nice out here today, I think I’ll go for a run when I get home.”
His brow wrinkled. “Run? Who are ya gonna be runnin’ from?”
I laughed. “Oh. I won’t be running from anybody. I only do it for exercise. And because it’s kind of…” I didn’t think Joe would understand if I used cathartic. “It helps me work the stress out, if you know what I mean.” We’d reached my car and I dragged my keys out of my bag.
It beeped and unlocked and he opened
my door for me, shaking his head. “The only time I run is when people is chasing me.”
The simplistic way he said it struck me and I paused before sliding behind the wheel. “Who chases you, Joe?”
He shrugged and smiled, but he didn’t look me in the eye. I leaned on top of the door frame, resting my chin on my folded arms, wanting to appear relaxed to him. “Has someone been bothering you?”
He shrugged again, staring off, his gaze following the cars passing on the street. “Ahh. You know. Kids like to poke fun. None of your kids,” he added quickly, glancing at me, then away again. “They’re nice little ones.”
“The older kids?”
He didn’t have to answer. We both knew it was the boys from the high school a few blocks away. Joe put a hand over his eyes and tilted his face to the sun. “You better get goin’, Miss McCord. You ain’t gonna get no running in if you don’t hurry.” He gestured to my seat.
I checked the nearness of the sun to the horizon, too. Joe wasn’t as dumb as people thought. “You’re right.” I studied him again, chewing on the inside of my cheek. I wondered if something could be done to keep the kids from messing with him.
He turned his gaze to me, wide and guileless, and stepped back.
I tilted my head, studying him for a moment, but nothing could be done about it today, anyway. “Good night, then. Hope you have a nice evening. Maybe you should get on home. I think the school is nearly empty.” I gestured to the building.
He glanced back at the main doors near the office. “Yup. See you Sunday.”
He had me nailed. Man, but I was a creature of habit. I did need to cut up some multi-colored leaves for a project I planned…. And Joe often came to school when no kids were around to help. He’d guard the crosswalk all the same. Something told me he didn’t have a good home life. “Probably. Night.”
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