Читать книгу Forever with You - Farrah Rochon - Страница 10
ОглавлениеGabriel Franklin stood before the science lab’s Formica-topped table surrounded by nearly two-dozen wide-eyed fourth graders, who all stared intently at the stack of pennies, nickels and lemon-juice-soaked paper squares in the center.
“So, how many of you think we’ve made a battery here?” Gabe asked as he held a length of copper wire just above the stack of coins. Half the students raised their hands.
He eyed the doubters with an upturned brow. “That’s all? The rest of you think I’m wrong?”
Anthony Radcliff’s freckled forehead scrunched in skepticism. “It’s just loose change and paper towels. How can that be a battery?”
Gabe tsked. “Oh, ye of little faith.”
The crease in Anthony’s forehead deepened. “Huh?”
“Never mind,” Gabe said. “Gather around closer, kids.” He touched one edge of the wire to the penny on the bottom of the stack and the other to the nickel on top. “Now, check this out.”
He connected the wire to an LED bulb and thanked the reliability of science when the bulb flickered and then shone with a soft glow.
The students erupted in cheers and excited howls.
“How’d you do that, Mr. Franklin?” Anika Reynolds asked in an awed whisper. “Is it magic?”
“It’s science,” Gabe answered. “It’s exactly what we’ve been talking about for the past week, taking the negative charge of one metal and the positive charge of another, and connecting them with an acid. The penny is made of what?”
“Copper,” the students replied in unison.
“And the nickel?”
“Silver!”
“And that lemon juice is filled with acid,” Gabe said.
“So, can I make my iPod work with pennies, nickels and lemon juice?” Cassidy Kirkland asked.
“That would take a lot of pennies, nickels and lemon juice, but at least you get the idea.” Gabe clapped his hands. “Okay, back to your seats. It’s time to write up what we all just witnessed in proper scientific-method form.”
He fully expected the grumbles and groans his statement elicited. He was only in his second semester of teaching at Gauthier Elementary and Middle School, but students were students no matter the school, and none of them enjoyed paperwork.
Using the electronic Smart Board that had replaced the green chalkboards he’d grown up with, Gabe went through the scientific method, going over the initial question he’d posed, the research the students had conducted, the hypothesis they all had agreed upon and the multitude of tests they’d run in order to investigate it.
He glanced over his shoulder and grinned at the sight of the twenty-two heads bowed over notebooks, their hands scribbling diligently. He required his students to take notes, even though the Smart Board allowed him to email whatever was written on it directly to their parents, which he also did at the end of every week.
The bell signaling the end of third period rang just as the students were finishing up.
“Remember your final topics for the science fair are due tomorrow,” Gabe called above the bustle of zipping backpacks and desk chairs scraping against the tiled floor. “And if you’re working with a partner, you both will need to turn in forms. It’s not cool to have one person do all of the work, is it?”
That garnered mumbles and a few wisecracks. Also expected.
While the students filed into the hallway, Gabe returned to the rear of the classroom where the small but functional lab was located. He cleared the remnants of today’s science experiment, washing the coins and leaving them to air-dry. Once the station was cleared, he packed up the battered leather messenger bag he’d been carrying around since his freshmen year of college, killed the lights and locked up behind him.
The teaching portion of his day was done. It was time to switch to his second role, interim assistant principal of Gauthier Elementary and Middle School—GEMS for short. The school officially had been renamed The Nicolette Fortier Gauthier Elementary and Middle School after the wife of the town’s founder, but in the eight months that he’d lived here Gabe had yet to hear anyone call it by that name.
A month into his second semester as the fourth-and fifth-grade science teacher at GEMS, the school’s assistant principal abruptly resigned. Gabe had earned his master’s in education administration last summer, which put him in the perfect position to take over as interim assistant principal.
As much as he loved the classroom—seeing the kids’ faces light up when he introduced them to yet another cool science construct was better than sinking a three-point winning shot at the buzzer—he loved this new role just as much. It wasn’t as hands-on as teaching, but the opportunity it provided to affect the lives of an even greater number of students was worth the trade-off. He was in a position to change lives in the same way his own life had been change, but on an even larger scale.
The weight of all those tremendous possibilities being within his control was awe-inspiring. To anyone who had known him back in his early teen years, the idea of Gabriel Franklin even making it out of high school with a diploma would have been unfathomable.
But he was here. This was his life. He’d worked for it, reached for it, had done every single thing right for the past decade to make this happen.
The next step? Make that interim title a thing of the past.
Gabe had come up with a plan on how to do just that and in the past week had begun to put that plan in motion.
Just as he entered the suite of offices that housed the principal, assistant principal, school counselor and secretary, Ardina Scofield thrust a stack of folders into his chest. The secretary, whom Gabe had to admit kept this place running like a well-tuned engine, returned to her computer without a word of greeting. Gabe had learned the hard way that when you moseyed over to Ardina’s bad side it was hell to get off of it. He’d found himself there after accepting an invitation from her to dinner and then backing out.
He should have known better than to encourage her advances, but she had approached him on the same day he’d struck out with the one woman—the only woman—who’d caught his eye since he’d moved to Gauthier.
Actually, to say he’d struck out wasn’t entirely accurate. When it came to Leslie Kirkland, he hadn’t managed to step up to the plate yet. Every time he even thought about broaching the subject of seeing his most dedicated parent volunteer outside of school, something told him to back off. It just never seemed like the right time to approach her.
He was tired of waiting for the right time.
And having dinner with Ardina in the meantime definitely would not have been the answer to his dating woes. Muddying the waters with a workplace affair was not on his agenda.
But Gabe knew he would have to figure out a way to get back into Ardina’s good graces, because anyone who had worked in a school environment for any length of time knew that it was the school secretary who ultimately ran the show. They were the glue that held the multitude of parts together.
Gabe stared at her rigid back and considered clearing the air, but he’d tried that several times this past week and had only received the stink-eye in return. Until he came up with a better tactic, he’d steer clear of her.
Instead, he went the opposite way, backing into the office that still had Assistant Principal James’s name etched on the cheap plastic nameplate above the door.
Not for long, Gabe mouthed at the nameplate.
He deposited the stack of file folders on the desk and, after popping open one of the energy drinks he kept in his messenger bag, started on the mountain of paperwork that was an unfortunate part of his new job. Unfortunate but necessary. Every form he filled out was yet another opportunity to bring some much-needed changes to GEMS.
After a half hour of reading through proposals for new playground equipment, Gabe welcomed the knock on his door.
“Come in,” he called.
Tristan Collins’s face peeked through the narrow opening in the door. “You got a minute?”
“Sure. What’s up?” Gabe asked his old college roommate, who was currently the band teacher at both GEMS and Gauthier High School. Tristan also had been the one to encourage Gabe to apply when the teaching position had opened up here just before the start of the current school year.
“I’m on my way to the high school, but I need to talk to you first,” Tristan said. He looked over his shoulder before stepping into the office and closing the door behind him.
Gabe took note of the huge worry line creasing his friend’s forehead. An uncomfortable feeling weaved its way through his gut.
“What’s up?” Gabe asked again.
Tristan blew out an unsteady breath. “I overheard something in the teachers’ lounge a few minutes ago. If it’s true, you’ve got a problem on your hands. A big one.”
* * *
“Something has got to be done about Gabriel Franklin.”
Celeste Mitchell accentuated each word with a thump on the table, her balled fist rattling the collection of mismatched mugs of tea and coffee that had been consumed over the past hour. The treasurer of the GEMS Parent Teacher Organization, Celeste had called this emergency board meeting to discuss “alarming” news she’d just heard regarding the school’s new interim assistant principal.
Simone Parker, the PTO secretary, hooked her thumb toward Celeste. “Look how this one’s tune has changed. Just the other day she was talking about how cute Mr. Franklin’s butt looked in his khaki pants, and now she’s ready to run him out of town.”
“He may be cute and all, but when he starts messing with my Lock-In, he’s gone too far,” Janice Taylor, the vice president, said.
“And there’s nothing wrong with looking,” Celeste argued. “I can be happily married and still look. Hell, sometimes Charles points them out to me.”
“Can we get back to the discussion at hand?” Leslie asked.
She’d come straight from work to The Jazzy Bean, the coffee shop her sister-in-law, Shayla, had opened two years ago on Gauthier’s Main Street. It quickly had become one of the most popular hangouts in town, and the normal meeting place when the PTO’s board needed to discuss important topics outside the regular PTO meeting. Leslie wasn’t sure when Gabriel Franklin’s nice butt had made the important-topics list.
Not that she hadn’t noticed the young teacher’s nice butt. She had noticed it way more than she dared admit.
Leslie figured she was just one in a growing contingent of Gauthier females who had a crush on GEMS’s newest teacher. As far as she was concerned, her little cougar crush was the safest crush in the history of all crushes. Not only was she too old for Gabriel Franklin, but there was also that other fact that could not be overstated. He was her daughter’s teacher. Her. Daughter’s. Teacher.
Safest crush ever.
“The Lock-In is our biggest fund-raiser of the year,” Celeste said. “Do you know how tight our budget would be next year if Mr. Franklin canceled it?”
“And just what makes him think he has the right to cancel it?” Simone asked. “He got here all of two minutes ago and has the nerve to try to change the way we do things? I don’t think so.”
“I liked him better when he was just a teacher,” Janice said. “It’s when they put him in that assistant principal position that he lost his mind. Give a person a little bit of power and they think they run the place.”
“You’re right about that,” Celeste said.
“I see it all the time,” Simone added.
“Ladies, please.” Leslie held up her hands and spoke as calmly as possible in an attempt to stave off the bevy of complaints being hurled at lightening speed. She waited until the other three ladies seated around the table quieted before continuing. “Everyone feels passionately about this subject, but if we all continue to talk over each other, we’ll never get this figured out.”
“What’s there to figure out?” This from Celeste. “We all can see what’s going on here. Mr. Franklin has decided that he knows what’s best for our children. Barely a child himself,” she finished with an aggravated huff.
“That’s what I’m talking about.” Simone pointed her mug at Celeste. “He can’t be more than twenty-five. What makes him think he knows better than the rest of us?”
“I heard that he taught for a few years in New Orleans before coming to Gauthier,” Leslie said. “He has to be older than twenty-five.”
“Fine, twenty-six, then,” Simone retorted after taking a sip of tea.
“I don’t care how old he is or how cute he is,” Janice said. “What I care about is the Lock-In. I’ve personally worked my butt off to make it a success, and I don’t appreciate someone who just moved here thinking he can come in and change the way we’ve been doing things for years. We need to figure out how to handle this problem.”
“First, we need to make sure there actually is a problem,” Leslie reminded them. “It’s all hearsay at this point.”
Although, if the news Celeste had shared turned out to be true, they definitely had a problem on their hands. Actually, GEMS’s interim assistant principal was the one with the problem. Threatening the PTO’s major fund-raiser was the equivalent of swinging a bat at a nest of angry hornets.
“Well, someone needs to approach Mr. Franklin so that we can get to the bottom of this.” Janice pointed to Leslie. “I think you should do it.”
“Me?” Leslie yelped. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the PTO president. It’s your job.”
Great.
Leslie wouldn’t say she’d been railroaded into the PTO president position, but she had not been the most willing candidate. She’d caved under the mountain of guilt at having missed so many volunteer days last year. She’d accepted the position because, for the most part, being the PTO president at Gauthier Elementary and Middle School was an easy job.
Until Gabriel Franklin had decided to rile up every parent in the entire school.
Leslie splayed her fingers over her forehead and massaged her temples.
“So, when are you going to meet with him?” Simone asked.
“Yeah, Leslie, when?” Janice piped in. “It needs to be soon, before he decides to change something else.”
“Exactly!” Celeste pounded on the table for emphasis. “You need to tell Mr. Franklin how we do things around here.”
There was a light rapping on the wall before Leslie’s sister-in-law, Shayla, peeked around the divider that had been added to the rear section of The Jazzy Bean to create the illusion of a separate meeting room.
“Excuse me, ladies,” Shayla said softly. “I hate to intrude, but do you mind keeping it down? A few of the college kids are studying. It’s midterms.”
“We’re sorry,” Leslie said. “Please apologize to them. We promise not to get too loud again.”
Shayla sent her an understanding smile before going back into the main part of the coffee shop.
“Look,” Leslie said. “Before I approach Mr. Franklin I will need all the facts surrounding the supposed cancellation of the Lock-In. Nothing official has been sent home with the students.”
“But Ardina said she heard Mr. Franklin and Mr. Williams talking about it in his office.”
“We can’t rely on Ardina’s word alone,” Leslie said.
“Why not?” Celeste asked. “Ardina knows everything that goes on at that school. Nothing gets past her.”
“I think Leslie is right,” Janice said. “The PTO shouldn’t approach Mr. Franklin with this until there’s some type of official announcement.”
Finally, someone talking some sense!
Janice turned to her. “But you can still approach him off the record. Tomorrow night is Parent/Teacher Conference night. You need to take Mr. Franklin aside and find out exactly what he’s up to.”
“That’s a good idea,” Simone said.
“Yes, do it,” Celeste added.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Leslie’s hands went up again. “Didn’t we just agree that we shouldn’t do anything until we’re sure he’s made an attempt to cancel the Lock-In?”
“You know how these people operate,” Janice said. “He and Mr. Williams are probably scheming behind the scenes this very second, coming up with a bunch of reasons to cancel it. They’re going to just throw it on us at the last minute without giving us a chance to make our case.”
“I can’t believe Mr. Williams would go along with this,” Celeste said. “He knows how much the money we make from the Lock-In helps with the activities the PTO puts on throughout the year.”
“I don’t want to sound disrespectful or anything,” Simone said. “But Mr. Williams is getting up there in age. Who knows what kind of fast talk Gabriel Franklin is using on him?” She turned to Leslie. “You need to take care of this.”
“Why do I have to be the one who approaches Mr. Franklin if it isn’t in an official PTO capacity?” Leslie asked. “Any one of you can do it.”
“Because you’re better at this than we are,” Simone said.
If that isn’t the biggest load of bull.
“And you have to meet with him anyway since Cassidy is in his class,” Janice said.
“So is Willow,” Leslie pointed out, speaking of Janice’s daughter, who was also one of Cassidy’s best friends.
“Yeah, but she’s struggling in science. Our conversation will be uncomfortable enough as it is.”
“Come on. You can do this, Leslie,” Celeste encouraged. “We need the lowdown on his motives.”
“Yeah, who knows what he’s trying to do. He may be—”
Leslie put up a hand, cutting off Simone before she could voice whatever nefarious plot had popped into her head. “I think we’ve had enough speculation for one night,” she said. If they weren’t careful, by tomorrow there would be a rumor that Gabriel Franklin was trying to dismantle the entire PTO.
“I’ll talk to him.” Leslie finally capitulated.
“While you’re at it, ask him about these drills he’s set up for the fourth-grade class, too,” Janice said. “The kids have enough homework.”
“That’s to help them prepare for the state test,” Leslie said. “You can’t fault him for wanting the kids to be extra prepared.”
Shayla peered around the dividing wall again.
“We were just wrapping up,” Leslie told her before she had the chance to speak. “No need to throw us out.”
“I wasn’t going to throw you all out,” Shayla said with a laugh.
“You have Zumba tonight, don’t you?”
The Zumba lessons Shayla began teaching at The Jazzy Bean last year had become so popular that a third night had to be added to meet the huge demand.
“So maybe I was coming to throw you all out,” her sister-in-law said. “But I also wanted to make sure no one needed anything from the kitchen. Lucinda is shutting down in just a few minutes, so if you have any requests this is your last chance to get them in.”
“I need to get home and do some cooking of my own,” Simone said. “My boys will be getting in from baseball practice soon, and if the steaks I left defrosting aren’t cooked, they’ll eat ’em raw.”
“Teenage boys are ridiculous, aren’t they?” Celeste said. “Our monthly grocery bill is almost as much as the mortgage. Be grateful you have girls, Leslie.”
“My problem is getting my five-year-old to eat anything, but I don’t want your problems, either.”
Leslie remained seated at the table they’d occupied for the past hour while the other three ladies packed up their things. Once they were gone, she dropped her head on the lightly distressed wood and thumped it several times.
“Why? Why? Why?” she said over and over again.
“Aw, you poor thing.” Shayla said. “If the volume of their voices was any indication, it sounds as if things got a bit heated. What’s going on?”
“GEMS’s new assistant principal is making a nuisance of himself.”
“I didn’t even know there was a new assistant principal. What happened to Mr. James?”
“He’s off to Australia. You didn’t hear about that?”
“No,” Shayla said, taking the seat Celeste had occupied. “When did this happen?”
“About a month ago. Where have you been?”
A lazy smile stretched across Shayla’s lips.
“Never mind.” Leslie laughed. “I know where you’ve been. The honeymoon phase is nice, isn’t it?”
“Heavenly,” Shalya said. “If I had known married life was so nice I would have tried it years ago. But back to Mr. James. What’s he doing in Australia?”
“His wife got a huge job promotion but it required her to transfer to Melbourne. Mr. James put in his resignation and they were gone within days. They’ve moved the new science teacher into the assistant principal position for now. He’s doing double duty, because he’s still teaching.”
And making her life more complicated than necessary.
“That’s Mr. Franklin, right? Cassidy loves him. She was just telling me about some experiment they did using balloons and empty water bottles.”
“He’s a great teacher, but he’s not making many friends as an assistant principal. There are rumors that he wants to cancel the school Lock-In,” Leslie explained. “It’s the PTO’s biggest fund-raising event and, needless to say, some parents are not happy about this.”
“Back up a sec. What’s a lock-in?”
“You really are out of touch, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been in the coffee business for the last twenty years. I am completely clueless when it comes to this stuff. Now, what’s this lock-in thing?”
“It’s an event at the school where students are locked in the gymnasium overnight. There’s food, movies and games. Many of the kids stay up the entire night.”
Shayla grimaced and scrunched her shoulders in an exaggerated shudder. “Sounds noisy.”
“It is.” Leslie laughed. “But the kids love it. And they spend lots of money in that twelve-hour period. The money raised from last year’s Lock-In accounted for over half of the PTO’s funds last year.”
“So why does Mr. Franklin want to cancel it?”
“I don’t know if he wants to cancel it or not. Until I hear it directly from him it’s still just a rumor. But I need to find out if there is any truth to it.” Leslie sighed and took a sip of her caramel latte. “As president of the PTO, the other members of the board expect me to approach Mr. Franklin.”
“Ah.” Shalya nodded, then frowned. “How did you become PTO president again?”
“Don’t ask.”
Shayla barked out a laugh. “You poor thing. Why don’t you let me treat you to an early dinner? It sounds as if you’ve earned it.”
“Thanks, but I can’t. The girls’ babysitter asked me to be home by seven.”
“Oh, how is she working out?”
“She’s only watched them a couple of times, but Kristi is already in love with her. Cass, on the other hand, misses coming over to her auntie Shayla’s after school.”
Shayla slapped a hand to her chest. “Don’t. I feel guilty enough as it is that I can no longer watch them after school.”
“Oh, stop it,” Leslie said. “You know I’m just teasing. You’ll be able to watch them for me tomorrow, though, right? It’s Parent/Teacher Conference night at the school.”
“Of course,” Shayla said. “Xavier is more excited than I am. He just bought a bunch of board games. He’s going to be so disappointed when all Kristi and Cass want to do is watch YouTube videos of cats doing tricks.”
Shayla had married Dr. Xavier Wright a few months ago. A transplant from Atlanta, Xavier had settled into life in Gauthier much easier than Leslie had when she’d first moved here. He’d charmed the pants off everyone in town, including her sister-in-law.
Shayla plopped an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her upturned palm. “Sooooo,” she said, stretching the word out in a singsongy voice. “What’s this I hear about you and Sawyer Robertson chatting after church?”
“Oh, please don’t start,” Leslie said. She pushed up from the table.
“I just want to know what was said.” Shayla whined. “Come on, Leslie. This is huge.”
“No, it’s not. And I hope the nosy, meddling people in this town will just let it go.”
Shayla caught her wrist, halting her exit. She waited until Leslie turned to face her before she asked, “Is it that you’re just not ready to date yet?”
Leslie’s eyes fell shut. “I just...” But she didn’t know how to put what she was feeling into words. So she went with the easiest cop-out. “Yes. I want to take my time,” she said. “And I don’t need the pressure of knowing that everyone around here is looking at my every move.”
“Okay, okay,” Shayla said. “I will put the word out that everyone needs to back off.”
“Including my well-meaning sister-in-law?”
“Do I have to?” Shayla pouted. Leslie just stared at her. “Oh, okay,” Shayla grumbled. “No more talk about Sawyer, even though he was at one time considered the biggest catch in Gauthier. Used to drive us girls crazy back in high school. He’s also—”
“Shayla!”
“Sorry,” she said. “Anyway, since you won’t allow me to take you out to dinner, at least let me order a pizza so you don’t have to cook tonight.”
“I can order a pizza.”
“Can I at least pay for it?”
Even though their once-stony relationship had vastly improved over the past year, there was one area where she and Shayla still butted heads. Leslie had lost count of the number of times she had to remind her sister-in-law that she and the girls were not her financial responsibility. They both knew that her late husband’s pension from the Army didn’t cover much. And, even though she made decent money as a financial analyst, raising two daughters on her own was an expensive undertaking.
But they were not in dire straits. Not even close. She’d saved well over the years, and because they lived in Braylon and Shayla’s childhood home, she didn’t have a mortgage. She could pay for a pizza.
But she didn’t want to argue with Shayla, and Leslie knew if she turned down her sister-in-law’s offer it would turn into a skirmish.
“Make sure you order one half with just cheese,” she told her. “Kristi has decided she no longer eats meat.”
“I love that kid,” Shayla said.
“And thanks again for putting up with our little impromptu meeting.”
“You know you all are welcome anytime. Just tell Celeste to use her inside voice next time.”
Laughing, Leslie hugged her good-night before Shayla retreated behind the counter. Leslie picked up a couple of oatmeal-and-cranberry cookies from The Jazzy Bean’s healthier sampling of baked goods. If they were having pizza tonight she might as well go all out and let the girls have dessert, too.
Even though she lived within walking distance of Shayla’s coffee shop, she had driven here straight from the office. She backed out of the slanted parking spot and in less than five minutes pulled into the driveway of the house she’d lived in since marrying Braylon eleven years ago. A part of her was happy to have her daughters growing up in their father’s childhood home, but there was another part of her that dreaded walking through the door.
It had been an ongoing struggle for nearly two years. Being in that house surrounded by memories of a husband who was no longer here, a life that no longer existed, was nothing short of torture. Some nights it took every ounce of strength she possessed just to find the courage to fall asleep in her own bed.
Which was why Leslie had finally decided to put action to the thoughts that had been swirling in her brain for the past couple of months. She had requested a meeting with her boss and was going to ask for a transfer to the company’s Houston office.
Leslie closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “The girls will like Houston,” she said to the empty car.
It would be nice if she really believed that.
She had grown up in Houston, and even though it was only six hours away by car, she only went home about once a year. It hadn’t always been easy growing up in those rough inner-city streets. But at least Houston wasn’t filled with so many heartbreaking memories. Braylon’s death had created a pall over just about everything that she had grown to love about Gauthier over the years. She needed to break free from it all.
Leslie grabbed her laptop bag from the trunk and entered the house through the side door that led to the kitchen. The moment she walked in, her legs were surrounded by bony five-year-old arms.
“Mommy!” Kristi exclaimed. She pulled away and looked up at Leslie with those deep brown eyes that looked so much like Braylon’s. “Why are you just getting home? It’s already dark.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Leslie pulled at one of her bouncy curls. “Mommy had a late meeting at work, and then I had to meet with a couple of other mommies at Auntie Shayla’s restaurant.”
“Cassidy said it’s a coffee house and café, not a restaurant.”
“Well, excuse me,” Leslie said. “I had a meeting at Auntie Shayla’s coffeehouse and café. Where’s Cass?”
“In the living room. She’s teaching Brittany how to twerk.”
“What?”
Leslie tossed her bag on the kitchen table and rushed to the living room. She found Cassidy and Brittany Meyer, the sixteen-year-old babysitter she’d hired a few weeks ago, in the middle of the living room with their hands on their thighs and their rear ends in the air, gyrating like a couple of washing machines. Buster made figure eights between their legs.
“Excuse me, but what is going on here?” Leslie called over the music.
“Hey, Mom,” Cassidy said.
“Hi, Mrs. Kirkland,” Brittany said with a wave.
“What’s going on here?” Leslie asked again, pointing to the television that had a YouTube video of someone giving instructions on how to do the dance move that Leslie had expressly forbidden either of her girls from doing.
She turned to face the girls and folded her arms over her chest. “You know the rules, Cassidy. This is a no-twerking household.”
“But Brittany said that white girls can’t twerk, so I wanted to show her that she could learn to twerk if she really wanted to.”
Lord, help her.
“Sorry, Mrs. Kirkland,” Brittany said. She pointed the remote at the TV and the screen went black. “I didn’t know about the no-twerking rule.”
“No twerking and no playing with the stove,” Kristi said, eating the oatmeal cookie that was supposed to be dessert.
“It’s okay,” Leslie said, waving off Brittany’s concern. “I didn’t think I needed to say anything, since these two already knew about the rule.” She gave Cassidy and Kristi another stern look as she handed Brittany a twenty-dollar bill. “Thanks for staying a little later today.”
“No problem. I’m sorry I can’t watch them for you tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry about it. The girls will be going to their aunt’s.”
“We’re going to Aunt Shayla’s tomorrow?” Kristi asked, jumping up and down in excitement.
Leslie walked Brittany to the front door just as the pizza deliveryman was pulling up. There were more excited screams at having pizza for dinner.
Other than the dozen times Leslie had to reprimand Kristi for trying to feed Buster pepperoni—she’d apparently turned back to a carnivore overnight—dinner went off without incident. By the time they were all fed and showered, Leslie was dead on her feet, but it still would be a few hours before she could crawl into bed. She had a ton of work she’d been forced to bring in from the office.
She was so determined to do it all, but Leslie knew this superwoman thing was nothing but a facade. She couldn’t do it all. And if she didn’t slow down, sooner or later, she was going to pay for it.
