Heart Stealers

by Patricia McLinn

  “No.”

  “You need one.”

  “It’ll have to go through the school board. It’ll take some time.”

  “Initiate it right away. Meanwhile, can you take a stand with the kids without a formal policy?”

  “Yes. I have the right to do anything to establish an orderly atmosphere.” Seth sat back and steepled his hands. “I’ll get on the PA system. We’ll have to hold a faculty meeting first, though, to alert the staff.”

  “They should be told what to look for, how they can help prevent the spread of this at Bayview Heights. The worst thing that can happen is for these kids to think they’re getting away with surreptitious gang activity in the school. If they think they’re putting something over on you, they’ll be hard to stop.”

  The principal checked his calendar. “I have a faculty meeting scheduled for Monday. Can you do the presentation?”

  “Yes, I guess so. But you might want to bring in a gang prevention specialist instead.”

  Seth shook his head. “No, I’ve had a lot of positive feedback about the material you presented on breaking up a fight. Teachers are notoriously hard to impress. They respect you. They’ll listen to what you have to say.”

  “All right, then.” Making a quick decision, Mitch said, “Seth, we’ve got another problem.”

  “What?”

  “Cassie. She’ll have a fit about this.”

  Sinking back into his chair, Seth ran his hand over his face. “Because of Johnny.” Then the principal shook his head. “But he’s out of the Blisters. He wasn’t with DeFazio, was he?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think he’s involved?”

  “Truthfully, I don’t think so, but I don’t know for sure.” Quickly, Mitch related the conversation he’d had with Cassie the night the kids were brought in on suspicion of using inhalants.

  Taylor’s eyes narrowed when Mitch finished. “I don’t like having things kept from me. You should have said something then.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Cassie can be very persuasive.”

  “Cassie doesn’t make these kinds of decisions for the school. I do.”

  Mitch nodded. “It’s my responsibility. I shouldn’t have listened to her. Don’t lay this on her.”

  Seth cocked his head. “Defending her now, Captain? When did this start?”

  Somewhere after a kiss that knocked my socks off.

  Mitch shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I’m worried about her reaction to this.”

  Seth studied him a minute before he said, “Cassie’s got to see that this is bigger than we thought. She’ll be reasonable. In any case, I’ll handle Cassie. You get the presentation prepared.”

  Mitch felt the constriction around his heart. Taylor probably could handle Cassie. But Mitch had a bad feeling that she’d never forgive him for going to Seth without talking to her.

  Maybe it was for the best, he thought as he left the office and headed out of school. That one kiss, that brief intimacy they’d shared, flooded him with feelings that were too strong for him to control. Best to end things now, before she came to mean too much to him.

  Mitch exited the building and strode to his car, an enormous sense of loss threatening to engulf him.

  Chapter Eight

  Cassie laughed out loud as she hurried down the hall. She was late for a meeting with Seth because she hadn’t been able to tear herself away from Johnny. He’d stayed after school to regale her with tales of his experiences at the Forty-Second Street Clinic. It had been wonderful to see him animated and excited. He’d even mentioned, twice, a girl from Columbia University pre-med who was also working with Kurt. It was all so healthy, so good for him.

  As she made her way to Seth’s office, Cassie had the fleeting thought that, for a change, everything was going right in her life—first Johnny, and tonight, a date with Mitch. She shivered a bit just thinking about last Monday when he’d touched her. She could still feel his hands on her, his lips hard and insistent against her mouth. Though fearful of the closeness, she was ready to spend the evening with him.

  “Go on in,” Seth’s secretary said when Cassie entered the outer office.

  “Thanks, Sue.”

  Breezing through the door, Cassie smiled at Seth. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Seth glanced across his desk.

  She followed his gaze. On the other side of the room sat Mitch Lansing. For a minute, Cassie was overwhelmed by his raw masculinity, barely concealed by, of course, his navy blue suit. “Hey, Captain.”

  “Hello, Cassie.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Mitch gave her an odd look. Before he could answer, Seth said, “I wanted Mitch here while I discuss something with you.”

  “Something about the Resiliency Program?”

  “Sit down, Cass.”

  His tone made her wary. She sank onto a chair opposite Mitch. “Okay, shoot.”

  Thoughtfully, Seth leaned over on his desk, bracing himself on his forearms. “Before I do, I want to tell you something. Two things, really. Not many people know that I taught somewhere else for a year before I came to Bayview Heights.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I left because I made a bad decision at the other school. I won’t go into detail, but basically, I was too caught up in a situation to see it clearly. And there was no one to help me. No experienced teachers or administrators to turn to.”

  “Is that why you set up a mentoring program here?” Cassie referred to Seth’s institution of the controversial program of formally pairing every new teacher with an experienced staff member who helped, guided and was there to give advice.

  Seth nodded. “The other thing concerns you. Do you remember when I encouraged the school to file a PINS petition on you?”

  “PINS?” Mitch asked.

  “Pupils in Need of Supervision,” Seth explained. “It’s like a legal warrant filed for truancy to get kids the help they need when parents don’t—or can’t— do their job.”

  Cassie nodded. “I was furious with you.”

  “But it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. My mother couldn’t supervise me properly. She needed help.”

  “You didn’t talk to me for days.”

  In a show of disgust, Cassie closed her eyes briefly. “I was a brat. What’s this got to do with now?”

  Leaning back in his chair, Seth steepled his hands. “We need to take some anti-gang measures at the high school.”

  Cassie felt as if she’d been doused with cold water. “Why?”

  Mitch spoke up then. “I recommended it. I saw some evidence of gang activity yesterday and the day before.”

  “From Johnny?”

  “No, actually from DeFazio and two other boys, one of whom I didn’t know. He isn’t in our program.”

  “Joe DeFazio? Who was the other?”

  Mitch hesitated. “I’d rather not say till I’m sure he’s involved.”

  Cassie drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  Seth said softly, “We can’t allow this to happen at Bayview.”

  “Of course not,” Cassie agreed. “DeFazio has to be stopped.”

  “I think we need to do more than deal with one student.” Seth’s tone was gentle but firm.

  “Like what?”

  Again, he glanced at Mitch. “Mitch recommended we go public with a full-scale policy. I’m going to start a gang prevention program at Bayview Heights High School.”

  “Why?”

  Mitch held her gaze as he spoke. “Because talking to DeFazio won’t stop it. The kids involved right now will hide their activities for a while, then start again. All the students need to know it’s against school rules and will incur disciplinary action. And teachers need to be educated about what to watch for so they can recognize gang activity and help stop it.”

  “Is it that widespread?”

  Seth said, “Who k
nows? Mitch noticed the colors, the hand signals and a distinctive haircut. It sounds organized and serious. If it’s burgeoning, I want it stopped now.”

  “But what if it’s just Joe DeFazio? Won’t you give other kids ideas if you meet this head-on?”

  Seth looked at Mitch and raised his brows. “Mitch?”

  “That’s a misconception,” Mitch told them. “The first thing a school has to do is admit there’s a problem—which I’m convinced there is here at Bayview. Then nothing’s secret, everything’s out in the open. Limits are set and enforced. Kids don’t think they can get away with anything, so they don’t even try.”

  Slowly, Cassie sank back on the chair, seeing Johnny’s laughing face just minutes ago, hearing the subtle traces of hope and expectation in his voice that hadn’t ever been there before. Juxtaposed to it, she remembered what he looked like three years ago when he’d dropped out of school and had gone back to the gang for a few months. What would it take to send him into the hopelessness that had driven him to the Blisters? The strong push of a gang prevention program at Bayview? But she tried to be reasonable. Something had to be done. Quiet nudges worked best in her experience. “I don’t think this is the best way to go about it.”

  “What do you mean?” Seth asked.

  “If we have to do something, let’s approach it in small groups with the kids. Individual sessions have always worked better here, especially with the At-Risk kids.”

  “Cass,” Seth said, “if Johnny didn’t have this history with the Blisters, would you be so against this public stand?”

  She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “Are you saying I can’t be objective about this?”

  “Yes.”

  “I resent that.”

  “I’m sorry, but I know what it’s like to misconstrue a situation. To let your bias about a student sway you.”

  “Ah, the story you told.” She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, but she could tell from Seth’s frown she hadn’t been successful.

  Mitch stepped in. “Cassie, the other thing is, if we let it spread at the school, Johnny could be lured back easier than if it’s kept out of Bayview.”

  “I’m not saying we should let the gang activity go on. We have a responsibility to the other kids to stop it. I’m disagreeing about how to approach the issue. Your rule-mongering isn’t the best way. You don’t know what it can do.” She turned to her principal. “I’m surprised you don’t agree with me. You’ve always had more of a one-on-one philosophy in dealing with issues. Especially after the fiasco of Bosco’s committee recommendation.” Staring at him hard, she finished, “You agreed to go along with the no-early-dismissal rule for work and you were wrong. After six months, you changed the policy to judge each case on an individual basis.”

  Steepling his hands again, Seth studied her. “Yes, I was wrong then.” He turned to Mitch. “What do you think?”

  Without hesitation, Mitch shook his head. “I think it would be a mistake to hush this up. Both staff and students have to see you’re not afraid of confronting the issue. If you go about it the way Cassie wants to, it will appear whitewashed.”

  Because the charge of being too lax had been leveled against her by Jerry Bosco, Cassie felt her temper rise. She faced Mitch. “What makes you the expert here? Seth and I have been dealing with kids for years. Our professional opinion is based on experience. We’ve seen how making global, inflexible rules can really hurt kids.”

  Mitch said quietly, “Your professional opinion is biased because of Johnny. And obviously, because of a bad experience. One mistake doesn’t make us wrong this time.”

  They both turned to Seth.

  “I think Mitch is right.”

  Fighting anger and hurt, she said, “I can’t believe this.”

  “I’m sorry if it upsets you. But I’m going ahead with our plan. We’ll address the issue with the faculty on Monday and then make a public announcement Tuesday to the student body.”

  Cassie stared at him openmouthed. “You had it all planned.”

  Mitch started to speak, but Seth cut him off again. “I’m principal of this school, Cassie. I make the decisions.”

  “Not all by yourself, apparently.” Staring at Mitch, she remembered the night in her living room when she begged him not to approach Seth. She turned away, her heart pumping fast. Damn him.

  “Maybe you should talk to Johnny about this before it hits,” Seth suggested. “He might take it better from you.”

  Cassie said nothing.

  “Cass?”

  “I’ll think about it.” Her shoulders stiff, she angled her chin and faced Seth squarely. “Are we through here? I’d like to leave.”

  “Yes.” He looked at Mitch. “I want you to stay, though.”

  “Fine.”

  Cassie stood. Woodenly, she made her way to the door, emotions swirling inside her like a summer storm.

  From behind her, Seth said, “Cassie?”

  She turned around.

  “I want you at the faculty meeting Monday.”

  That did it. Her temper flared. “I always fulfill my teaching responsibilities, Mr. Taylor.” She couldn’t keep her voice from climbing a notch. “For the record, I find your telling me to be there an insult to my professional integrity.” Forcing herself not to slam the door, she stalked out of his office.

  * * *

  Mitch stood on Cassie’s front porch for several minutes, trying to summon the courage to ring the doorbell. It had taken the kind of guts it took to face down a street punk with a gun to get him this far. He stared out into the February sky, at the stars twinkling overhead, but he couldn’t appreciate the crisp beauty of the evening. He could only see her face this afternoon when she’d looked at him across Taylor’s office.

  Accusation had been there. He could take that, had been prepared for that. It was the hurt in those misty gray eyes that had sucker-punched him. He’d let her down just as she was beginning to trust him. And trust didn’t come easily for her.

  Nor did it come easily to him. He paced the ten-foot length of the porch, kicking up the frozen snow with his boot, watching his breath swirl before him in big, fat puffs. He and Cassie were kindred spirits. Both afraid of trusting. Both slowly breaching their wariness these last five weeks. Had it all been aborted on one dreary winter morning by a group of adolescent boys who were biting off more than they could chew—and didn’t even know it?

  Thoughts of the kids at Bayview Heights High School confirmed his decision. “This is the right thing, damn it,” he said aloud. If he lost Cassie in the process, so be it. Sick of quivering on her doorstep like a love-struck boy, he jabbed the bell.

  No answer.

  He scanned the house. There were several lights on in the living room and a small one burning upstairs. Her car was in the driveway. She was home.

  He rang again. And again. Just after he pressed the buzzer insistently for the fourth time, she whipped open the door.

  Her face was flushed as if she’d been running. Sweat beaded her face. She was dressed in a ragged white T-shirt and faded red sweatpants.

  Guess we’re not going to dinner.

  He said, “Hi.”

  The surprise left her expressive face and she closed down. Another tactic he knew well. “Mitch.”

  “May I come in?”

  Briefly, her eyes flared with some emotion—anger at his presumptuousness? Surprise at his tenacity? Fear? Well, if it was going to end before it really got started, she’d have to do it right.

  “Cassie? I asked if I could come in.”

  “I heard you.” She didn’t answer the question but moved aside to allow him into the foyer. Without asking to take his jacket, she led him into the living room. His eyes immediately sought the place on the floor where he’d not only kissed and caressed her, but admitted he’d wanted to take their relationship further. Tonight, it hurt to remember the hope he’d felt then.

  There was no fire lit now. Instead, a movie blared from the televis
ion, in front of which she’d dragged her exercise bike. She crossed to the TV and lowered the sound but didn’t turn it off—a subtle message that he wasn’t staying. He saw Sidney Poitier’s smiling face and heard the soft notes of To Sir With Love humming in the background. Always the teacher, he thought.

  “I didn’t think you’d come tonight,” she said without preamble.

  He faced her squarely. “We had a date. For dinner.” He scanned her outfit. “You’re not ready.”

  Crossing her hands over her chest, Cassie stared at him. “I just assumed you’d cancel.”

  He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket because they were fisting without his consent. “I didn’t.” His heart racing, he asked, “Does this mean you’re canceling?”

  The impassivity slipped. For a minute, naked pain claimed her features. He wanted to drag her into his arms and erase it. Before he could, the look was gone. “I’m not going out with you, Mitch.”

  The rejection hurt more than he’d expected. Because it did, he found the nerve to ask, “Forever, or just tonight?”

  Silently, she began to pace. When she faced him again, the mask was firmly back in place. She was so tough. Really tough. And he knew in that instant that he wanted to be the man to soften her. To make her melt both physically and emotionally. To make her moan with pleasure and weep with joy.

  “Forever, I think.”

  Nodding, he turned from her and walked to the fireplace. It took all the control he had not to sweep the pretty knickknacks off the mantel. When he faced her again, he saw her bite her lip. The vulnerability of that tiny gesture calmed his violent urge. “Mind telling me why?”

  “It won’t work, Mitch. We’re too different. You’re so rule-oriented, and I see things in grays. I can’t think like you do, and you’ll never understand how my mind works.” He watched her closely. “There will be too many opportunities, like this afternoon, to hurt each other.”

  “If I hurt you today, I’m sorry.”

  Again the mask slipped. “I was hurt because my professional opinion and experiences—after fifteen years of teaching—were ignored.”

  “They weren’t ignored. Seth just disagreed with you.”

  “Maybe so, but that doesn’t alter our differences—yours and mine. The whole incident confirms how mismatched we are.”