Page 18

18

brITT

LOVE LETTERS

L ooking up when the final bell rings, my students whoop and jump up as though it were a fire alarm, such is their excitement to ditch me for the weekend.

Standing, I step out from behind my desk before they sprint to freedom. “I want you guys to read another chapter this weekend. We’re halfway through Courtney’s Crusades, and I will be asking you questions on Monday!” I purse my lips when a dozen sets of pre-teen eyes roll. “Chapter eighteen! Read it, then write a paragraph on your thoughts. I’m reading ahead, so I know what happens, and I know it’s an exciting chapter.”

Like he sprinted as soon as the bell rung, Brad knocks on my classroom door and gingerly walks in. My students rush past him, darting under his arms and eliciting groans of pain as they bump him in their haste to escape.

I don’t even feel sorry for him.

Brad’s been at my door every Friday for weeks. Longer, even. And every single week, I come up with a new way to say no, a new evasion, a new ‘plan.’

At first, they were small fibs. I didn’t want to offend him, so I’d say I was sorry, but that I had plans. But when he would insist on coming back time and time again, my fibs turned to flat-out rejections.

No, I don’t want to date you.

No, I don’t want to get a bite to eat .

No, I’m not seeing anyone else. I just don’t want to date you!

But as disinterested as I am in another date with this man, he seems equally as disinterested in my answers.

Like a stray cat I shouldn’t have fed, he keeps coming back. If I’d known the single time I said yes would be the equivalent to tuna, I never would have fed him.

I dread Fridays, because I know he’ll be at my door as soon as the bell rings. I don’t know why he wants me . He’s a nice enough guy, he looks good, he buys dinner. There are some women in this world who’d love him, and if he simply looked beyond me, he might find them.

Walking forward with a slight limp, I find my heart softening for the guy so obviously in pain, but then he sits his ass on the edge of my desk, and my sympathy flees as fast as my students.

Glancing around my classroom at the remaining few still packing up, I stop with surprise at Evie ‘Smalls’ Kincaid’s filthy glare.

If Brad was on fire, Evie would not offer the dregs from the bottom of her water bottle.

Sitting at her desk and slowly packing away her books, her blue eyes glitter with rage. I swear, it’s like Jack himself is in my classroom shooting daggers at Brad the Bore.

I look away before I smile and encourage her open hatred for a fellow faculty member. Turning back to Brad, I take a silent breath in preparation.

Get it done, get rid of him.

But before I get the chance to ask him to leave, he moves his legs and grits his teeth, which has me frowning with curiosity. “Are you okay?”

Totally – fake – relaxed, he shrugs. “Hmm?”

“You look like you’re in pain…”

“Me?” Shaking his head with arrogance, his breath comes out on a hiss when he moves too much. “No,” he squeaks. “I’m fine. How was your day, Britt?”

“It was good.” I begin packing my things away; something I should’ve done before the bell. “I’m in a bit of a rush, though. I have a hair appointment, so…”

“A hair appointment?” His eyes glitter with intensity. “You have a date?”

Yes or no? Shit, yes or no?

Evie nods ever so subtly in my peripherals, and my eyes go wide with disbelief. She’s five rows away, and she’s a kid. How can she hear? How much does she understand?

“Britt? ”

My eyes snap back to Brad’s. “Yeah, I do.”

“You do?”

I clear my throat.

Why does he make me so nervous? Why can’t I just punch him in the face and move on?

“Ah, yeah. I have a girl date with Evie.”

His gaze snaps to her. She’s not intimidated. Her arrogant grin almost has me biting right through my lip.

“Just a girls date,” Brad muses. Rubbing his thumb and finger beneath his bottom lip, he rolls the skin and watches me with a smile. “That’s cool. Girl time’s always fun.”

“Uh-huh, so if you–”

“I started fighting this week.” Broadening his shoulders proudly, Brad looks at me as though he’s waiting for me to drop to my knees… but Evie’s snickers ruin his delivery. “It’s cool. I’ve been fighting for years, but, you know, self-taught.”

Frowning, I study his broad-ish shoulders. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, no big deal,” he sniffs. “But I figured if I ever wanted to go pro, I’d need a formal gym. They don’t let you onto the circuit without a gym rep.”

“Pro?”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, but I dunno… now’s as good a time as any to get my ducks in a row.”

“So you’ll stop teaching?” Yes, please.

“Not yet. Not until I get sponsorship deals and stuff.” He brings his hand up to hold my chin. “Can’t take pretty girls like you to dinner without a regular paycheck.”

“Find the right girl, Brad–” Not me! “–and she won’t be looking for money and five-star restaurants. A girl in love will eat a ramen picnic at the park.”

Rolling his eyes, he releases my chin. “No girl of mine will eat ramen.”

“Okay, well…” I grab my purse and begin tossing things in. “I have to go, so I’ll see you–”

“Are you busy tomorrow night?”

“Miss T! Are you ready?” Evie skips over to grab my hand with the giddiness of a three-year-old. It takes everything in me not to react to the paper she slips into my hand; all in vain. “My mom wrote you a letter,” she announces proudly. “She gave me a curfew, so read it quick, then we have to go. ”

I glance up at Brad’s narrowed eyes, and when he takes another step forward, I pull Evie back and open my letter.

Bambie, you (probably) look pretty today.

It’s a safe assumption.

I’ve attached my number below, since the fact you’ve needed my niece to bail you out means you should probably have it. Call me anytime, I’ll bail you out of the shit anytime you need it. Well, until you get hitched to some other dude, at which point you become his problem.

I’m going to assume Brad the Bore is in front of you right now, because I know my niece has an uncanny ability to insert her smart self into any awkward situation.

Fuck you, Brad! I bet you suck your own dick!

Also, will you go out with me? – Britt, not Brad.

Tick (Yes) for yes, or (No) because you’re a dumbass still holding a grudge. :P x

Call me. I’ll be waiting.

“So my mom wanted to know if that would be okay…” Evie taps my arm. “Miss T?”

My eyes snap down to hers. “Huh?”

“Yes or no?”

I look to Brad, then back to Evie. Then looking at this schoolboy note, I nod and work to tone down my smile. “Yeah, that curfew will be fine.”

Smiling victoriously, she leaves no question that she knows exactly what’s written in this note. “Alright, so let’s go. We’re on the clock. See ya, Mr. Maxwell. Have a super awesome night.” As soon as we escape into the hall, she finishes with, “All alone, you douchey freak.”

Pulling me along the hall and thrusting us into the afternoon sun, as soon as we reach the stairs at the front of the school, she releases me and shakes her shoulders as though to dislodge something unpleasant. “Ugh, I hate him. He’s such a dick.”

“Evie!” I pull her to a stop and wait for her ocean blue eyes to meet mine. “You can’t say that to me! I’m your teacher, and so is Mr. Maxwell. It doesn’t matter that you don’t like him, you can’t say those things.”

“Shit, okay. Sorry, Miss T. I forgot.”

“You can’t say shit, either! ”

She snorts, but at my glare, swallows it down. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. Please don’t tell my mom I swore. She gets mad.”

“I should tell her.” I glance around the parking lot expecting to find the minibus and Jack, but an odd stab of disappointment flares in my stomach when Tina Kincaid waves. “Oh.” I look back to Evie. “Your mom is here to get you today?”

“Yeah. We’re not really going on a girly date, sorry. Uncle Jack just told me to give you his note, and I knew Mr. Maxwell would come to our class again, so I stayed back. Well, actually….” Waving at her mom, Evie drags me forward. “Mom! Do you wanna go out with Miss T? We could get ice-cream or something?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay–”

“Sure!” Walking toward us as elegant and beautiful as ever, Tina’s smile makes me feel like a slob. “I’ve got the afternoon off, and I was only going to run to the post office before we go to the gym, so yeah.” She checks her watch. “We have time. Let’s go.”

“Is Bean coming, Mom?”

“No, Aunt Izzy already picked her up. She has her tournament in two weeks, so she’s at the gym with everyone else.”

I don’t want a repeat of my last experience with this family – as in, leaving my car behind and risking a run in with Brad when I return to collect it – so telling them I’ll meet them at the ice-cream parlor, I dash to my little car and follow them to Main street.

As soon as I park and sit down with my ice-cream, Evie continues her conversation as if the last five minutes of separation never happened. “Have you ever been to a tournament, Miss T?”

“A tournament?”

“Yeah, fighting?”

“No.” Shaking my head, I lick melting ice-cream. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen a fight in real life, except my brothers, but that’s mostly horsing around…”

“Well, I’ve been to a million of them.” I can’t believe this twelve-year-old legitimately intimidates me. “They’re so much fun.”

“Wait.” I stop and frown. “Did you say Lucy’s fighting?”

Evie nods enthusiastically. “Uh-huh.”

“But she’s eight.”

“Yup. This is her second year.”

“Second year fighting?” The blood drains from my face. “But she’s eight . ”

“Well,” Tina grins, “she’s actually nine now, but they can start training around five if they want to. Then competing around seven.”

“But they’re kids!”

Laughing, she spoons a delicate serving of chocolate fudge ice-cream into her mouth. “They’re padded up to within an inch of their lives, but don’t worry, it’s non-contact.”

“Non-contact?”

“Yeah, so it’s more of a technical fight. You show you can do the moves, but you don’t actually hit each other.”

“But what if they accidentally do anyway?”

“Well, they’re padded up. It’s a lot of fun, and adorable as hell.”

I turn to Evie and study the innocent looking girl with wild curls. “Have you fought?”

She nods with arrogance. “Duh. And I win, too.”

“Do you ever get hurt?”

“Nah.” Cool as a cucumber, she talks of this kiddie fighting sweatshop like it isn’t a big deal. “I broke my arm once, but that was an accident.”

“You broke– You.” Like a guppy, my mouth moves, but words refuse to form. “What?”

“It’s not what you think,” Tina laughs. “The kids want to fight, but they’re never forced to. Evie and Bean fight, because they’re brutes. And Jamie and Bryan do, too. But Alexandra and Brookey don’t, because they’re not interested. The younger kids don’t train yet, because they haven’t shown interest the way the older girls did, but the twins will start soon. Those boys need a physical outlet soon, or the whole world might blow up.”

I turn to Evie. “When do you fight proper fights? Like, when do you start hitting each other?”

“When I’m sixteen.” Her pout implies she wants to hit and be hit today . What I see as punishment, she sees as something to rush toward. Standing, she licks a long trail of ice-cream from her wrist, then tosses a napkin to the table. “I have to use the bathroom.”

“Want me to come with you, babe?”

Rolling her eyes – because she’s a badass fighter – Evie acts as though Tina’s suggestion is ludicrous. “No, Mom. I’ve got it. Back in a sec.”

“So…” As soon as Evie moves inside the parlor, Tina’s wicked grin has my stomach dropping. “You and Jack?”

I thought Evie was trouble, but I now realize the error of my ways. So na?ve, Britt. So fricken na?ve! “No. Me and Jack are… nothing.”

“But you’re friends? ”

I laugh. “I don’t even know what we are, to be honest. I’ve only seen him twice since,” I nod my head like an idiot, “you know. He was a total jerk that night, but he’s made up for it since then. It was like day and night. I guess we’re friends, sure. Friends that never actually hang out or talk.”

Tina’s eyes turn mysteriously stormy. “That day and night thing; he was going through something… big. Huge, really. But that’s not who he is.” Sighing, she considers her words. “I’ve known Jack since he was a teenager. He’s a sweetheart deep down; a trouble making, smartass, jokester, flirty sweetheart, but a sweetheart nonetheless. He’s not the guy who kicked you out of his house that time.”

The blush burns my cheeks and sends my eyes downward. That might’ve been the most humiliating night of my life.

“Anyway,” she continues on a happier note. “I didn’t set out to pimp my baby brother to you. I just wanted you to know he’s better than that guy you first met. He’s a good man. He’s loyal and sweet; and those things might be his biggest flaws right now. His loyalty hurts him, because it won’t allow him to move into a healthier stage of life. I guess I just don’t want you to think the worst. He’s a good man.”

Nodding, I finger the letter in my pocket and consider her words. He did show me a horrible man once, but he also showed me a gentle lover, a sweet uncle, a kind friend.

I don’t know him, not really, and though I wouldn’t mind spending time with him, I’m not in the right mental space to look for something more, either.

This is my year of fun.

My year to find me.

A date, I could do. Fun, casual sex, I could do. But Jack and I – neither of which are in a good headspace right now – we’d make fireworks. But not the good kind.

The dangerous kind.

Tina’s penetrating gaze has my eyes flipping up. “I don’t think the worst. It’s okay. I mean, if we all judged on that night alone, then you’d probably have reason to think I carry STD’s by the bucket load. I’m not a whore that does the walk of shame every night, and he’s not a complete asshole that disrespects women all the time. I won’t be running him down with my car, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Grinning, she wipes a napkin across her lips. “I might’ve been a little worried about that. He copped a lot of shit for what he did to you.”

“He did?” I frown in disbelief. “Why? You guys didn’t know me. ”

She shrugs. “But we knew Jack. And no matter what, that’s not how you treat people. That’s especially not how you treat women. It doesn’t matter whether we know you or not, what he did was wrong.”

Nodding, I say nothing more as Evie wanders back out of the parlor. Standing to go our separate ways, I take Jack’s letter from my pocket and grab a pen from my bag.

Scribbling my response, I draw a big flourishing tick next to the ‘No.’ But to lessen the rejection, I draw a smiley face right next to it.

Holding it out, I grin at Evie. “Can you give this to your Uncle Jack?”

Smiling mischievously, she tucks it away in her pocket. “Sure thing, Miss T.”