The Last Strike by A.R. Henry

Chapter 2

The bell rings and I collapse into the chair behind my desk exhausted after finishing my first week teaching at my new school.

The kids are so great, and my coworkers have been more than welcoming to me.

Some more than others.

I knew during our first meeting that school—no matter the age—would always have cliques, and so far, this one was proving to be no different—even when it came to the teachers. There’s a particular group of female teachers around my age that would be classified as the “popular” girls who took one look at my target sweater and barely greeted me with a “hello” before moving to a far corner of the room.

When an older woman—who introduced herself by saying, “Rita Lang. I retire in four years, and it can’t get here fast enough,”— sat down next to me I knew I had found my first friend at the school.

She has three grandkids who all attend here and is just waiting to hit her maximum retirement before she can stay with them full time. Her son is divorced, and when she invited me to dinner, I knew it was a setup. I make a mental note to remember to ask Ash to get me out of that, but I know Rita is going to make him come into the school to meet me. Cringe.

Our school’s Principal, a fifty-year-old balding man by the name of Hank, walks into my classroom and startles me by saying, “Well! Miss Lonsdale, how was your first week at West End?”

I jump and sit up straighter. I take a couple of breaths to slow my beating heart before answering him. “It was great Mr. Pond! I’m so grateful you gave me this opportunity, and the kids and I are going to get along very well.” I try to sound excited but not eager. To be honest, he kind of gives off creep vibes, and I don't want him getting any ideas about me being overly “grateful”.

“Good! Good! I’m so glad to hear that you’re settling in, and your home life? Are you settling in there as well? I understand from some of the other teachers that you’re single, have you met anyone yet?”

See what I mean by creep vibes?

The man looks like he needs to be worrying about retirement homes, not a date with a twenty-year-old.

Ew.

“Oh, umm.”

How the hell do I respond to this?

“I’m settling in fine,” I finally answer, giving him a tight smile.

I need to get out of here.

He sees me starting to grab my purse and luckily takes the hint.

“Well, that’s just wonderful news Courtney. If you need anything, and I mean anything at all, you know where my office is,” with a wink he turns and leaves my room.

Uhhh that was more than creepy.

I need to tell Ash about that on my way home.

I lock up my room and head out to my car.

Once I’m outside I take a deep breath and turn back and look at the school. I cannot believe this is my life, but oddly I feel at peace. Like something good is finally going to come from all the crap I’ve had to endure over the last few years.

Maybe starting over isn’t so bad.

 

The next two weeks of the school year fly by, and I’m really getting into the swing of things.

The kids and I get along great, and Ash and I have even gone out a few times to some different local spots.

Luckily no one else has managed to pour a drink on me.

I still can’t think about that night without getting worked up.

Tonight, after school, we have our first parent/teacher conferences of the year.

I always get a little nervous for these because you never know how a parent might react to a stranger giving them advice about their child.

The first half of the evening goes off without a hitch.

I’ve met a lot of moms and dads who obviously don’t care much about the meeting. They just want to hear that their kid isn’t a tyrant so they can leave.

It’s starting to get late in the evening, but my last meeting isn’t until 7 pm.

I wouldn’t normally stay this late, but the dad emailed me earlier in the week to request the time.

It’s also for the sweetest little girl in my class named Cami, so of course I agreed.

However, it’s now 7:15 and the dad is a no show.

I give the guy the benefit of the doubt since his email did say he was a single parent, but I haven’t eaten all day and my stomach is growling.

He’s obviously not coming so I decide to call it a night.

Just as I’m locking my door, I hear someone walking towards me.

“Wait!”

I look up towards the voice and freeze… no. Oh no. No. No. No.

I suck in a breath and…

“You!” I shout.

Real subtle there Court. Good first—well, second impression with your student’s dad.

He has the nerve to raise one of his eyebrows and look at me like I’m crazy.

I’m not crazy. I’m mad.

“What?”

He stops a few feet away from me and when he realizes I’m not going to answer his question he says, “I’m Weston Bell. I’m Cami’s dad. You are Mrs. Lonsdale, right?”

He looks away from me to check the number on the door, and when he realizes he’s got the right room he looks back at me.

I take the opportunity to look him over. I have shame, yes, but the man is hotter than sin. You would look too. Don’t even try to deny it.

He’s dressed in athletic shorts, runners, and—of course—a UTK baseball shirt with a ball cap on backwards.

This is so unfair. He looked hotter than hell in jeans at the bar, and now, somehow, he looks even sexier in workout gear.

That damn backwards hat will be the death of me.

“The meeting was scheduled for 7 pm, Mr. Bell. It’s well past that now, and I have to go home.” I’m speaking so quietly I’m not even sure he can understand what I said.

But when he clenches his fists at his side like he’s trying not to snap and grinds out, “I’m here now,” I know he heard me.

Seriously? Whoop-de-freakin-do.

I fold my arms and try my hardest not to sound like bitch, but it comes through in my tone, “You can email me tomorrow and we can work out a better time. Maybe now you can go walk into some other poor woman at a bar and knock her drink all over her. That seems to be your kind of activity.”

Damnit.

I hadn’t even meant to bring that up, but something about him just brings the word vomit out in me.

Recognition finally flashes in his eyes, but the ass doesn’t even acknowledge it, “Look, Mrs-”

“It’s Miss,” I interrupt, mostly to be annoying, but also one tiny, small, desperate part of me wants him to know that I’m single. That small voice in my head is such a hooker for this man, damnit.

He blows out an exasperated breath.

Yep, buddy I know I’m pissing you off, I can do this all night.

“Miss Lonsdale. I cannot come back again. May we please have this meeting now, so I can go home to my daughter?”

Damnit. He got me with the daughter card.

I don’t even bother unlocking my door since I already have the form in my work bag, so I pull it out along with a pen.

I huff then quickly tell him, “Here. Fill this out and sign it. Cami is an excellent student. She’s getting good grades, her development and skills are on par, and she gets along great with the other students.”

She obviously doesn’t get her social skills from you; I add in my head.

He quickly fills out the form and hands it back to me.

“Anything else?”

Ugh! Anything else.

What a talker.

He couldn’t even make polite conversation about his daughter. Would it kill him to be civil for five minutes?

Oh, wait, I already know the answer to that.

I put on my fakest smile and say, “No Mr. Bell, you can go now.”

Ass, I add for good measure in my head.

I’m sure it’s written all over my face.

The jerk gives me another (another!) up down like he did at the bar then says, “Are you sure teaching is the right job for you?” Without waiting for a reply, he turns and walks back out towards the parking lot.

Stunned into silence I stare at his retreating back with my mouth on the floor.

By the time my brain is functioning I yell, “You’re welcome,” but he’s already out the door.

I don’t like it when people can’t have common courtesy.

I bet he’s the type that doesn’t even tip at restaurants.

My parents both instilled in me and my older brother from a young age that kindness is the best currency because it’s free. It doesn’t cost you anything to wish someone a good day, but that simple act can change the whole course of someone’s day and that simple fact is priceless. It’s also something Mr. I’m-So-Special-I-Coach-A-Baseball-Team could learn.

I hope he’s not teaching his daughter to be mean.

As soon as I have that thought I shut it down because I’ve taught Cami long enough to know she isn’t anything like him and thank God for that.