Page 19 of What He Doesn't Know
She was humming a slow tune, her back turned to me as she tidied up the tables. I couldn’t help but study her for a while. She seemed tired, her dark eyes tinged with a bit of sadness that matched the tone of the song she sang. Somewhere inside that thirty-year-old woman, there was a sixteen-year-old girl. I’d seen a hint of her Friday night. She was still there, but she was hiding.
I just didn’t know why.
“You know, you’re not supposed to have favorites,” I said with a gentle rap of my knuckles on the door frame.
Charlie jumped a little, pressing a hand to her chest with a small smile once she realized it was me.
“What’s his story?” I asked, nodding toward the table where the little boy had been sitting.
She shook her head, gathering a handful of colored pencils and dropping them into the box on the middle of the table. “I don’t have favorites,” she argued with a shrug. “Jeremiah just learns a little slower than the others, he needs a little more one-on-one attention.”
“What you mean to say is he’s one of the few who isn’t a complete brat?”
She smirked then, casting me a sideways glance as she pushed a chair in. “You’rea brat.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I’m sure.” She laughed, pulling a stray strand of hair up that had fallen at the nape of her neck. She tucked it back into place with a bobby pin. “Did you need something?”
“Just a lunch buddy,” I replied hopefully. “I know you were only forced into one week of lunch dates with me, but I’ve been pretty lonely this week. The other teachers said I smell.”
“Well, they aren’t wrong, are they?”
“Smelly teachers need love, too.” That earned me another smile, which I’d come to cherish from Charlie, so I took a few steps closer, sliding my hands inside my pockets. “Besides, I have something for you.”
Her doe eyes found mine then. “For me?”
I nodded. “Come on. Grab your lunch and let’s go. I’ll have you back before the kids, I promise.”
She chewed her thumbnail, shaking her head when she realized she was doing it and quickly drying it on her skirt. It was strange, like she didn’t trust me, or maybe like she didn’t trustherself. But I waited patiently. I wasn’t in a rush.
After a long moment, she grabbed her scarf from her desk and wrapped it around her neck. “Okay. But I only have thirty minutes.”
I smirked. “Deal.”
There were two libraries at Westchester — one for grades K through eight, and one for grades nine through twelve. Both were massive, two floors each, but the lower grade library was brighter, more colorful. We were hidden away in the back corner of the second floor, our lunches spread out on one of the private study tables. The library was quiet, save for our hushed conversation and the laughs coming from a middle school lunch study group a few aisles down.
“You’re good with them,” I said as I took the last bite of my soup. I licked the spoon clean, dropping it inside the Tupperware and popping the lid back in place. “The kids.”
Charlie smiled, twirling her own spoon around in her yogurt. She’d played with her food more than she’d eaten it, but I didn’t press her on it.
“It’s not hard to be. They’re so young. Creative. And it’s their first year of school. I get them at their happiest.”
“Not yet scathed by the rigorous Westchester curriculum, huh?”
“Exactly. Their homework is still fun at this age.”
“They’re going to hate it when they get to me.”
At that, Charlie laughed.
“They all really look up to you,” I added, tucking my empty Tupperware back into my bag. “I have some kids in my class who said they had you and you’restillthey’re favorite teacher.”
“Really?”
I nodded, smiling at the tinge shading her fair cheeks. “Really. Quite the impression you’ve made on these little minds, Mrs. R—” I caught myself. “Pierce.”
She watched me for a moment before her eyes fell back to her spoon. “I love my job. It sounds silly, but I’ve always wanted to do this. I’ve always wanted to teach. It doesn’t feel like work to me, coming to Westchester every morning.” She smiled. “It’s where I’m happiest.”