Page 116 of Pride High 3: Yellow

The greeter took two menus and led them through the restaurant, which was doing good business for a weekday lunch. Most of the other patrons were adults, who didn’t get spring break off. That seemed weird to Anthony, considering that adults made the rules. He was pondering this when a pair of pale blue eyes caught his attention. He almost didn’t recognize his journalism teacher, who wore a T-shirt and shorts instead of his usual slacks and dress shirt. He even had a pair of shades parked in his silver hair.

“Mr. Finnegan!” Anthony said, slowing as they neared his table. “What are you doing here?”

His teacher seemed just as startled to see him. “Shouldn’t you be in class?” he said.

Anthony laughed. “Spring break. Remember?”

Mr. Finnegan snapped his fingers. “I knew I was forgetting something!”

“This is my boyfriend, Cameron,” Anthony said, taking his hand.

Mr. Finnegan’s face flushed, like he was uncomfortable with the public display of affection. Or maybe that it was between two guys, but Anthony didn’t take it personally. He understood that such things were new to most people.

The greeter noticed they weren’t following and turned around.

“Where will our table be?” Anthony asked her.

The greeter pointed to a booth that wasn’t far away. Just a few tables down and across the aisle.

“Okay. We’ll be right there.” He turned to his teacher again. “Are you here with someone?”

“My wife,” Mr. Finnegan said. “We were just leaving.”

Anthony glanced around but didn’t see anyone.

“Too bad you’ve already eaten,” Cameron said. “Anthony has told me a lot about you. We could have had lunch together.”

“Your treat?” Mr. Finnegan asked playfully. Then he stood. “I told my wife I would meet her out front after I paid,” he said. “I hope you boys have a nice meal.”

A server holding a tray of drinks paused at his table and set down two, looking at them curiously. “Will they be joining you?” she asked Mr. Finnegan.

“No,” he replied. “I’m afraid something came up and we have to go.”

“I thought you already ate?” Anthony said, noticing that the cutlery was still tightly wrapped in cloth napkins.

“Well, actually…” Mr. Finnegan began to say.

Raised voices drew their attention away, the conversation around them lulling as others tuned in. Toward the back of the restaurant, two women were arguing.

“Hey…” Cameron said with dawning recognition. “Hey! That’s Charles!”

“You’re right!” Anthony said. He watched Charles pinch the bridge of his nose as if embarrassed while a woman shrieked at a man who stood nearby.

“Sorry,” Cameron said, taking off in their direction. “That’s my friend. I’ll be right back.”

“I really should get going,” Mr. Finnegan said. But he didn’t move. He kept staring at the scene, even as Cameron approached and the voices grew quieter. “If I asked you to do something without question,” Mr. Finnegan said, “would you please?”

“What?” Anthony asked.

“Could you take your boyfriend and leave? I don’t mean any disrespect, but I never mix my personal and professional—”

“If you don’t call the police, I will!” the woman shouted. Loud enough for the entire restaurant to go silent.

“Never mind,” Mr. Finnegan said grimly. He pushed past Anthony and marched to the back of the restaurant.

Anthony followed, confused until he noticed the relief on Charles’ face as Mr. Finnegan approached.

“What’s going on here?” his teacher demanded, wielding all the authority he did when in the classroom.