Ginger arched a brow at Leo, looking like she was gearing up to give him the mother of all talking-tos. “Leo.”
His mouth dropped open in protest. “I was trying to be helpful. How many clocks does anyone need these days?” he asked, gesturing at his phone.
Beckett shook his head. “Mr. Paige’s class was never a waste.”
I held up my hand. “No, don’t go after him for telling the truth. Dr. Gardner and I discussed the ecological component, and we agreed—we don’t want to use up materials making knickknacks people are just gonna throw away.”
Leo gestured to me. “See? That’s all I was saying.”
Ren spoke up. “Sometimes, when someone you love passes, you want to preserve everything in amber, make sure it never changes, ever. But that’s not the real world.” He reached over and took Beckett’s hand. “And this isn’t Mr. Paige’s class anymore.”
Several people at the table inhaled sharply, and a couple of the Lost Boys dabbed at their eyes.
Beckett squeezed Ren’s hand. “You’re right,” he said, his voice tight. He turned to me. “Sorry, Walk. Habit.”
“I understand. The last thing I’d want to do is disappoint him.”
Ren shook his head. “My husband didn’t expect that you’d be his carbon copy. Those last couple of years, he had some of the same issues. The kids loved him because of who he was, but he was pulling his hair out, too.”
I chuckled. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”
Ren wrinkled his nose. “That’s not really my style.”
Holden leaned over, kissing his dad’s temple. “Dad prefers the unvarnished truth. And he’s definitely telling the truth about those last years—Pops often wondered if he didn’t have what it took to change with the times.”
“That’s why Robert recommended you, Walker. Because he had faith that you would be able to take that class into this new generation. He didn’t worry about your woodworking skills. He cared that you could connect with the kids and figure out what the class should look like going forward.”
Everyone’s heads started bobbing, and I rubbed my chest, swallowing whatever emotion was crawling up my throat.
“Dr. Gardner and I were thinking something with a community focus would be good,” I offered. “And I told her I’d ask if y’all had any ideas.”
“Beckett and I always have something going on over at Lupe,” Ginger said.
Beckett nodded, taking Holden’s hand. “Maybe there’s some sort of shared project we can do.”
Leo opened his mouth, then shut it.
“What were you going to say, Leo?” I asked.
“Be nice,” Ginger said, pointing at him.
Leo made a plaintive sound. “Just because I say what other people won’t doesn’t mean I’m not right.”
Lovett, who was sitting next to Leo, hid a laugh behind their rainbow-painted fingers.
Leo turned to them with a hurt expression. “You shush.”
I cleared my throat the way I did in class, and everyone’s attention snapped back to me. At least I still knew how to manage a damn room. “Leo, you made a very good point. So why don’t you think about what Lupe needs, and let me know if you have any?—”
“Bunk beds,” he said, cutting me off.
“Bunk beds?”
Beckett wrinkled his nose. “What’s wrong with the bunk beds?”
Ginger grimaced. “They’re not… great.”
“Not great?” Leo snorted and gestured to himself. “I know y’all are about to shove me out the door, but those bunk beds were made for ten-year-old girls, not for six-foot-something guys sitting north of two hundred pounds. I’m not even the biggest one there.”
