Page 19 of What Did I Miss?
‘The Gatorade is to give you a burst of energy when you need it,’ she says.
‘The lozenges? You don’t realise how much talking you do at these things.
I’ve lost my voice a few times. The stress ball is to hold under the table to help with nerves, and the mints are to disguise coffee breath.
There are also a couple of muesli bars to tide you over until dinner, and a choccy reward to scoff in the car afterwards. ’
Beau runs his fingers along the glossy wrapper of a Snickers bar. ‘My favourite. How’d you know?’
‘Lucky guess.’ As if she’ll admit to eavesdropping on him and Rongo debating Snickers versus Mars bars. He doesn’t need to know she always tunes in to his conversations when pretending to mark assignments.
‘What’s this?’ He waves a folded piece of paper.
‘Some handy tips,’ she lies, hoping he’ll get a kick out of the teacher jokes she scoured the internet for. That’s until she second guesses herself. ‘You can read those later.’ Makayla plucks it from his hand and throws it back into the box, banging the lid into place.
The watchful eyes of Agnes, who’s sitting behind him, burn into her.
When did the Wicked Witch of the West sneak in?
More importantly, when is she going to tell everyone about busting them?
Every morning, Makayla expects to find the staff and students all pointing and snickering.
Is Agnes sitting on this gossip to prolong her torture, or will she use it to her advantage at a later date?
‘Thanks for this. I appreciate you looking out for me,’ Beau says, foiling Makayla’s attempt to win an impromptu staring competition with Agnes.
‘Places, people. Places,’ Jeffrey calls, manning the double doors.
‘One more thing,’ Makayla says to Beau. ‘Don’t feel the need to do all the talking. You’ll learn a lot by listening. Building a connection with families is just as important as it is with the students. Education is a collaborative process.’
Makayla returns to her spot in the next aisle a few rows back, where she can keep an eye on him.
Graduates underestimate how draining these events are, and Beau has seemed a little flat lately.
Always the first to arrive, the last to leave, and never appearing refreshed on Mondays.
He must spend all weekend marking and planning.
At his age, it can’t be easy going from the top of his game to starting at the bottom.
An ear-busting horn signals the first ten-minute slot, giving Makayla traumatic flashbacks of speed dating. She drains her water bottle, blinking at the empty fold-out chairs in front of her.
‘How many bookings have you got?’ Cece asks, swapping to the unoccupied table beside her.
‘Even less than last year. You?’
Cece snorts, setting up her latest crochet project – a tea cosy she’ll actually use. ‘No one gives a toss about art. Maths and English get all the love.’ She motions towards Beau.
Sitting across from him is Ebony’s mum, Rhiannon, who was only a teenager herself when she fell pregnant, making her the youngest mother here.
With her luscious dark locks and sultry smile, she’s also the hottest. A sliver of Rhiannon’s leopard-print bra shows when she leans forward to giggle at whatever Beau is saying, and a tinge of pink brightens his ears as he slouches in his seat. What happened to his stiff posture?
‘Look at him. So unprofessional,’ Makayla says.
Cece chuckles into her fuzzy blue coat; it looks like she skinned the Cookie Monster.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘You and your adorable crush. I wish you could’ve seen your face when you were talking to him earlier. Your eyelashes were working overtime.’ She flutters hers comically. ‘You also—’
Makayla leans across and takes Cece’s yarn hostage until the teasing stops. She wasn’t making eyes at him, but Rhiannon practically has hearts in hers.
More families shuffle in carrying two-dollar snags.
Class captains got roped into a sausage sizzle to raise money for an overseas school, which is ironic, considering Goldbrooke desperately needs some love.
Crowd-pleasing artwork and impressive dioramas are displayed around the edges of the gym to distract from the cracks in the ceiling.
If there’s another bout of heavy rain this month, it’ll probably cave.
Minutes later, the high-pitched horn sounds again, and the teachers wrap up their first meeting to appease Jeffrey’s tight schedule. Rhiannon, however, remains in her seat, and Beau doesn’t move her along.
Makayla can’t hear what they’re saying, but she can tell by their body language that the conversation isn’t drying up anytime soon.
If they had a glass of wine in hand, it’d look they were on a date.
No one else is queuing up behind them, but that’s beside the point.
He’s putting himself at risk of becoming fodder for The Whiny Bunch.
As his mentor, it’d be negligent of her not to stop this nonsense.
Adamant that’s the reason she’s bothered, Makayla makes her way over.
She comes to a halt before Chris Foxley, a single father of six with a lion-like mane that twitches with activity.
It’s widely suspected his children are responsible for every single head lice outbreak.
Makayla’s scalp itches instantly. He takes an excitable step forward as she takes one to the side, like they’re life-sized chess pieces.
‘I was just coming to see you.’ Chris wags his bushy eyebrows. He used to work with Warren, and his long leers earned him the nickname ‘Creepy Chris’. ‘Sorry to hear about you and Waz. Well, not that sorry.’ He winks.
Makayla recoils further. It’s so unfair that Beau is chatting up a Kardashian lookalike while she has to endure a man making eye contact with her chest. She zips up her leather jacket to let Chris know she’s not interested in becoming stepmother to his infested spawn.
‘Since you’re late, I’ve accepted another booking,’ Makayla says.
‘I might be able to squeeze you in later. Perhaps our art teacher Cece has some availability.’ She points to an empty chair, feeling awful about throwing her friend under the bus.
Cece scrambles to tie her hair into a bun as Chris approaches.
Makayla arrives at Beau’s table and stands there like a third wheel, waiting for them to acknowledge her presence.
‘What can I help you with, Makayla?’ Beau asks, full of his usual charm.
‘Hi, Rhiannon. Nice to see you again,’ she replies, ignoring him. ‘I had a cancellation and thought I’d fit you in earlier. We’ve got a lot to discuss.’
All warmth drops from the young mother’s face. She complies with the request, but not before whispering something in Beau’s ear that elicits a deep blush.
‘He’s quite something, isn’t he?’ Rhiannon says once she’s seated across from Makayla. ‘Single, too. There aren’t many bachelors like that left in Goldbrooke.’
Her comments unleash a feeling in Makayla that she can’t quite name. Will Beau reveal his relationship status to all mothers tonight, or only to those with MILF potential? That’s not what she meant about building a connection with families. Not even close.