Page 7 of Someone to Have (Skylark #3)

“I’m not talking to you,” I interrupt.

“It was nothing. The poem is stupid and confusing. We read it last semester at my other school, so I don’t know why I have to do it again.”

“Based on the fact that you couldn’t answer a simple question about the assigned passage, that’s a lie,” Bryan announces.

“Don’t call my nephew a liar.”

My command is steady and calm. I’ve caught Rhett in several lies in the ten days we’ve been together, but Bryan Connor is leaving something out. I’m not going to let this self-righteous prick bully the boy in my care.

I switch my gaze to Taylor, who looks pained by the whole situation. Or maybe it’s the fact that she’s in pain. Pretty sure she’s going to have a shiner, and I hate that. Hate that this whole incident gives her another reason to judge me.

“Did you hear anything?” I ask gently.

“No,” she says, “but the transition to a new school can be difficult. I think we all just got off on the wrong foot.”

“Do you teach freshman English?” I ask. “Can he transfer to your class?”

Bryan lets out an exaggerated and derisive sniff. He’s either coming down with a cold or is an even bigger asshole than I first assumed.

“Ms. Maxwell isn’t a teacher,” Suzanne explains. “ She works part-time in the library. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays she covers the lunch periods and study halls for our full-time librarians.”

“I also work at the Skylark Public Library,” Taylor says, like I’m going to question her credentials or dedication to the job.

“It was an accident,” Rhett repeats.

“Or bad aim,” Bryan snaps back. “Or just a bad apple.”

I struggle not to launch myself over the table. “What did you call my nephew?”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere.” The assistant principal stands. “Rhett is new to our school community, so we’re going to offer some grace for the injury he caused.”

“I’m sorry,” Rhett whispers, his eyes trained on Taylor.

“It’s okay,” she whispers back with a smile.

My nephew slammed her with a book—accidentally—and he gets a smile. Suddenly I feel like a fool for reading something into that earlier lip twitch.

“You have to punish him,” Bryan Connor insists. “If it landed an inch to the right, she could have lost an eye.”

“I didn’t lose an eye.” Taylor looks like she’s going to touch him in that same calming way she did me. At the last minute, she pulls her hand back as color floods her cheeks.

Interesting. Is not-so-tall, pale, and average-looking her type? The dude has good hair—kind of that boy-band floppy-mop look—but he’s a tool.

“Does that sound agreeable to you, Mr. Anderson?” Suzanne asks.

I realize I’ve been so distracted sizing up Bryan Connor, like I’m deciding whether to swipe right or left on a Tinder profile, that I’ve missed something critical.

I turn to Rhett, and he gives me a look as if he knows I’ve spaced out on part of the conversation.

Uncle of the year right here, folks.

“I’m going to volunteer in the library,” he mutters .

“With me at the public library,” Taylor clarifies. “We host a children’s reading program Saturday mornings. The younger kids love when teenagers help out.”

“Sure,” I manage even though my throat has gone dry. I don’t know if it’s a reaction to Taylor’s big-hearted solution or the blush staining her cheeks when she explains it. “Thank you.”

The assistant principal nods and begins to stand.

Rhett doesn’t argue, but his body practically trembles trying to hold in whatever he’s thinking.

Taylor has solved one problem. I need to take care of the other one. “Is there another freshman English class he could transfer to?”

“Do you know how lucky your nephew is to have a teacher of my caliber his freshman year?” Connor asks. I’m not sure he meant it as a rhetorical question, but none of us answers.

“I think he’ll be fine in Mr. Connor’s class,” Suzanne assures me. “I’ll keep an eye on things.”

Rhett’s sigh lets me know he’s not convinced, and Connor’s scowl communicates the same thing. Just what I need.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll make sure he does his homework.” It’s a promise I have no idea how the hell I’m going to keep. Homework wasn’t exactly my strong suit.

“If you decide he needs extra help, Ms. Maxwell is also a tutor,” Suzanne offers.

“Mostly for elementary school age kids,” Taylor says quickly.

“And several of our student athletes,” the administrator adds.

“Good to know,” I say as I avoid making eye contact with Taylor. It’s not like I should care what she thinks of me or Rhett, but I do. “Thank you all for your time.” More than anything, I want this meeting to be over.

Bryan Connor pushes back from the table and stalks out of the room. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass, I mentally call out.

“He’ll be at the library tomorrow morning,” I tell Taylor.

“Coach Toby invited me to varsity practice,” Rhett protests. It’s the most emotion I’ve heard in his voice since I arrived in Colorado.

I think about Marty’s words. “You haven’t earned practice with Coach Toby.”

Taylor cocks her head to study me like she recognizes her father’s insight. “Reading hour starts at ten,” she tells Rhett. “If you could be there twenty minutes early to help set up, that would be great.”

Before he can open his mouth—because I’m pretty sure he’s ready to argue now—I place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “He’ll be there.”

And with that, I lead my troubled—and now troublesome—nephew out of the high school, wondering why I thought I’d be able to handle any of this.