Page 1 of Lily and her Mercenary (CHANGING OF THE GUARDS)
Lily Andrews
T he morning sun filtered through the colorful construction paper cutouts taped to the classroom windows, casting rainbow patterns across twenty-four eager faces. I clapped my hands twice, the signal for attention that my kindergartners had learned within the first week of school.
"Okay friends, time to put away our counting puppies and come to the reading carpet!"
Small hands scrambled to drop the toy puppies into bins while I straightened my cardigan and mentally prepared for the next transition. Teaching five-year-olds was like herding butterflies—beautiful, unpredictable, and requiring endless patience.
"Miss Andrews, Tommy put a puppy in his pocket!" Amelia announced, her pigtails bouncing with the importance of her tattling.
"Tommy, the puppy belongs in their home, not in pockets," I said gently, extending my hand. Tommy reluctantly surrendered the tiny blue puppy, his lower lip protruding.
"I was saving him because he was lonely," he explained, eyes downcast.
My heart melted a little. "That's very thoughtful, but he has puppy friends waiting for him. You can play with him again tomorrow."
The day continued in its familiar rhythm.
Storytime, recess, lunch, art, and finally, dismissal.
As the last child was collected by her grandmother, I collapsed into my desk chair, exhaling the day's tension. After twenty minutes of tidying and planning for tomorrow’s class, I grabbed my tote bag, ready for my daily ritual: coffee, solitude, and a book.
Marie's Coffee Shop sat just three blocks from the school, a converted Victorian house with mismatched furniture and the best vanilla lattes in town. The bell jingled as I pushed open the door, the scent of freshly ground beans wrapping around me like a warm hug.
"The usual, Lily?" Marie called from behind the counter, already reaching for my favorite oversized mug.
"Please. It's been a day, I tell you." I smiled, fishing my wallet from my bag.
As I waited, I felt someone move beside me at the counter.
“You have a bit of glitter there,” a deep voice commented.
I looked at the owner of that voice, a man I'd never seen before, tall with dark hair and blue eyes that seemed to see more than they should.
He wore a leather jacket despite the warm weather, a contrast to my cardigan and floral dress.
A fuzzy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach when his eyes focused on my lips.
He motioned towards his mouth, then pointed. “Looks like you took a plug from a bottle of glitter glue.” His eyes twinkled with something that I couldn’t recognize, and then his words registered.
Mortified, I scrubbed a hand over my lips and muttered, “Is it gone?”
He chuckled. “No, but it’s better.”
"Occupational hazard of kindergarten teaching," I replied with a polite smile. "I’m sure it’s all over my body." I bit my lip at my accidental invitation for his eyes to roam over me. I swiped a hand across my brow as I started to break a sweat just from the heat of his gaze.
"I'm Royal," he said, extending his hand.
"Lily," I responded, my face beet red as I accepted the brief handshake.
"New in town?" I asked, making small talk while Marie prepared our orders.
"Just passing through. Nice place, though. Quiet."
Something in his tone made me glance at him again. His eyes hadn't left my face.
"Vanilla latte for Lily," Marie called, breaking the moment.
"That's me. Have a good day," I said, before taking my drink to a booth in the corner.
I lost myself in my novel for nearly an hour before gathering my things to head home. The evening air had cooled, and I pulled my cardigan closer as I walked the familiar route to my apartment, a three-storey walk-up, five blocks away.
At the corner of Maple and Elm, a prickling sensation crawled up my spine. I glanced back casually, pretending to check a shop window. Half a block behind, a figure in a leather jacket walked with unhurried steps.
Coincidence, I told myself. Lots of people walk this way.
I turned down Elm Street, quickening my pace slightly. The footsteps behind me sped up as well, keeping in time with me.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I fished my phone from my bag, pretending to check messages while opening my camera app. I held it up as if taking a selfie, angling to capture the street behind me.
There he was—Royal from the coffee shop—maintaining the same distance, his eyes fixed directly on me.
I lowered the phone, mind racing. My house was still two blocks away, but Mrs. Henderson's porch light was on just ahead. The elderly woman knew me well; she'd been my first friend when I moved here three years ago.
Without obvious hurry, I changed course and headed up her walkway, hearing the footsteps behind me pause. I knocked on her door, smiling with false brightness when she appeared.
"Lily! What a lovely surprise."
"Hi, Mrs. Henderson. I was just passing by and thought I'd say hello." I stepped inside, stealing a glance back at the street.
Royal stood at the corner, hands in his pockets, watching me retreat with an unreadable expression before smiling at a woman who was walking towards him.
Clearly, I had overreacted, as the two fell in step with one another. He was just meeting his girlfriend, or perhaps it was his wife.
"Are you alright, dear? You look flushed." Mrs. Henderson peered at me through her wire-rimmed glasses.
"I'm fine. Just a long day with the kiddos." I followed her into her cozy living room, the walls lined with photographs of her children and grandchildren.
"Sit, sit. I just made lemon bars." She gestured toward her floral sofa.
I sank into the cushions, my heart rate gradually slowing as the aroma of lemon and powdered sugar filled the air.
Mrs. Henderson busied herself in the kitchen while I silently chastised myself for my overreaction.
Of course, he wasn't following me. What kind of stalker introduces himself by name in a public place?
Twenty minutes and two lemon bars later, I thanked Mrs. Henderson and continued home, feeling better but somehow still uneasy. The streets were quiet now, just the occasional car passing by headlights sweeping across the tidy lawns of my neighborhood.
I opened the door, and Mabel trotted up to me. A once feral cat that I had rescued off the streets. She settled on her half of the table, something we had to come to a compromise on, looking expectantly at her food dish.
"I know, I know," I murmured, scratching behind her ears before filling her bowl with kibble. The familiar routine helped settle my nerves as Mabel purred and wound around my ankles.
I kicked off my flats and padded to the kitchen, pulling leftover Chinese takeout from the refrigerator. As I waited for it to heat in the microwave, I found myself gravitating toward the living room window that faced the street.
The sidewalk stretched empty under the amber glow of streetlights. No leather jacket in sight. I let the curtain fall back into place and shook my head at my paranoia.
My phone buzzed with a text from my friend Sarah: How was your day? Still loving the single teacher life?
I typed back: Mostly. Had a weird encounter today. Probably nothing.
Three dots appeared immediately. Weird how? Did some kindergarten parent hit on you again?
No, just some guy at Marie's. Thought he might have followed me home, but I'm being dramatic.
FOLLOWED YOU? Lily, that's not dramatic. Did you call the police?
I stared at the message, my takeout growing cold on the counter. When put in Sarah's words, it did sound more serious. But what would I tell them? A man walked in the same direction as me after we had a perfectly normal conversation.
It was probably a coincidence. I'm fine now.
Promise me you'll be careful. Maybe come stay here for a few days?
The thought of driving an hour to her house was daunting.
I'm fine, Sarah. Really. It’s been a long day. Talk to you later 3
I tossed my cell phone onto the wingback chair by the window and settled on the couch with my lukewarm lo mein.
I couldn't shake the memory of Royal's intense gaze or the deliberate way he'd maintained that distance behind me.
Something about the whole interaction felt rehearsed, like he'd done this before.
Mabel jumped onto the cushion beside me, her green eyes reflecting the television's glow. At least I wasn't completely alone.
I tried to focus on the romantic comedy playing on screen, but every small sound from outside—a car door, footsteps on the sidewalk, the neighbor's dog barking—made my pulse quicken.
At ten-thirty, I double-checked the locks on both my front door and the sliding glass door to my tiny balcony. For good measure, I wedged a chair under the front door handle, something I'd seen in movies but never thought I'd do.
I turn the lights off and make my way through the darkness to my bathroom and brush my teeth with thoughts of Royal in my head.
“He was very attractive,” I mutter to myself as I spit toothpaste into the sink. “And unavailable,” I reminded myself as I turned the light off.
I turn down the blankets and slip between the sheets. Sleep came fitfully, interrupted by dreams of leather jackets and too-knowing smiles.