Page 16

There’s a story behind Aly and me. There’s a story behind almost everyone I’ve mentioned so far. A long one, but I’m not ready to tell you all about that just yet. As you can imagine, I’m a bit secretive, but eventually, you’ll get the whole truth and nothing but it. I don’t lie.

For now, I’m inside my classroom watching students come in, one by one, their backpacks on their backs and nervous smiles on their faces. I enjoy watching people. Especially kids. You can decipher a lot about them and their parents by the way they present themselves and interact with others in public.

You can immediately tell which ones are assholes, and which ones have asshole parents.

Eight-year-olds are something else. In the matter of ten minutes, I’ve laughed more at this group of kids in my class than I have in the last ten years combined.

A girl with pigtails and a bright pink dress stands in front of me, staring at me like I’m some sort of superhero to her. Also, she’sclearlywearing makeup. Who lets their child wear makeup at this age?

“You’re young to be a teacher. Are you old enough?” she asks, hands on her hips.

I nod. “I am. Are you young enough for this class? You look ten.”

That makes her happy. “I’m seven. I’ll be eight in three days. Can I bring cupcakes on my birthday?”

“Only if they’re chocolate. If they’re vanilla, don’t bother. I’ll toss them out the window.”

Her eyes widen. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t like vanilla. At all.”

She scowls at me, and I find it ridiculously entertaining I’ve already pissed her off, and the bell hasn’t even rang yet. “But it’smybirthday. . . .”

“It’smyclassroom.”

Another kid to my left crawls on my lap and shows me his cast. “My name is Brennan. I broke my arm jumping off the roof of my house.”

“Explains the cast.” I gently push him off my leg and make him stand up. I’m not much for personal affection, and these kids are all over me. “Bet you don’t jump off roofs anymore, do you?”

He stares at me, blinking slowly. “No. What do you call an alligator in a vest.”

I roll my eyes. “What do you take me for, an amateur? An alligator in a vest is an investigator.”

The boy in the cast laughs and moves back for the next kid to invade my space.

I know exactly who Cash Jacob is as soon as he walks through the door to my classroom, along with his brother, Grady. Poor kids are matching, and I can tell by the way one has twisted his backpack around to the front of his chest, they don’t want to be matching twins.

But like I said, I know who Cash is. He’s one of those kids you can tell is going to own this school when he’s older. Even at eight years old, he has a walk of confidence and poise, something I know I had as a kid.

I can’t ever remember being insecure or feeling out of place around other kids. I just didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. Cash, he’s the same way.

There are twenty-two students in my class, and he stands out. Probably because he looks identical to Austin, which is unfortunate, with Aly’s smile which I saw briefly, when the little blonde-haired girl seated next to him offered him a pencil.

When the bell rings, twenty-two sets of eyes look to me for direction. I smile at them, a little unsure what I’m supposed to be doing, but hey, can’t be that hard, right?

Before you go thinking I have no business teaching children, on some level, you’re absolutely right. I shouldn’t be teaching children. On others, I had been teaching camp tours for five years. I do know how to teach, and I have a degree that says so.

I start by pointing to the chalkboard behind me. “My name is Ridge Lucas.”

“Good morning, Mr. Lucas,” a handful of kids say, only to have me chuckle and lean back into the desk with my hands in my pockets.

“Nah, none of that. It’s just Ridge. I know the school wants you to call me Mr. Lucas. . . but where’s the fun in that? How about you call me Ridge?”

All but one of the student’s smile back at me. Cash. He’s staring out the window, probably ignoring me all together. I watch him for a moment, the way his dark lashes drift closed ever so often and the way no one in the class draws his attention with their giggles or questions. I’m a little jealous of his ability to be completely lost in a moment and shut the world out, even if it’s just for a second. I haven’t been able to do that in years.

I go through the normal procedures you would do on the first day from showing them where their lunch boxes go to where to hang up their coats. I only know this because there are labels on pretty much everything in the classroom.

“I have two rules for my classroom.” I wait for them to look at me. And they do, even Cash this time. “Respect me. . . and respect others.”