“Seriously? That’s what you’re going with? I’m seventeen, not seven.”
“Ezra,” she began.
“I get it if you’re uncomfortable telling me. I just wondered because I think he likes you too. Other than Jess, he hasn’t shown any interest in women since he and my mom split, so I was just hoping the attraction was mutual. He needs to get out more.”
Unsure of what to say to his pronouncement, she sat in silence. Luckily, it wasn’t long before the door opened, and Lucas emerged in a Tejeda Springs polo and a new pair of jeans. He went straight to the grill to start it up.
Ezra’s phone rang, and after looking at the screen, he excused himself to go inside to take the call.
Lucas’ mood seemed to have taken an odd turn. He’d been friendly and smiling all afternoon. Now he was broody, his face scrunched up into a frown, like he was mulling over something terribly important. She desperately wanted to reach out and smooth the wrinkles and furrows on his face. Wanted to help him unburden himself about whatever was troubling him, but she knew they didn’t have that kind of relationship as co-workers.
Maybe she couldn’t touch him, but she could talk to him. Picking up her soda, she walked over, facing him as she leaned on the deck rail. “Everything okay? You were having a great time with the kids, and now you seem kind of deflated.”
He glanced up at her, then put his attention back on the grill. “Tired, I guess. Homecoming was exhausting as a teacher, butit seems ten times more so now as an administrator. And we’re only halfway to the end of it.”
Was it really that he was beginning to feel the exhaustion of the long hours he’d been putting in? Or was he feeling stress over fallout from the raid punishments?
She remembered seeing him on the phone earlier. Could she ask specifically about that, or was that too invasive?
She decided to risk it. “When I walked past your office after school let out, I noticed you scowling while on the phone again. Sealy?”
“No.”
She waited, but he didn’t offer anything more.
“I don’t mean to pry, but your mood went through a drastic change after we got here. If you want to talk about it, I’m willing to listen. If not, that’s okay too.”
He was silent so long, she didn’t think he was going to answer her, and she was ready to walk back to her chair and let things lie, but just as she was about to give up, he spoke.
“I’ve been in education a long time. Not much surprises me anymore, and I rarely am moved to violent emotions over things. But one thing I cannot abide is when people attack my staff.”
“You don’t have to talk about it, Lucas,” she assured him. “I don’t want to put you in a difficult position if there are things you probably shouldn’t tell me.”
He shook his head. “The details really don’t matter in this instance. It was just a parent who was pissed off about something that happened in a classroom today. I got distracted by our conversation about your situation at home, and then I managed to forget about it while we were with the kids.”
“Then we came to your house, and your brain started to relax, bringing it back to the forefront?” She knew that feeling well.
“Happens to you too?” he asked.
“All the time.”
He closed the lid on the grill. “I just don’t understand why kids and parents don’t go to the root of a problem rather than fly off the handle and immediately go to an administrator about issues. It’s always bothered me. When I was a teacher, I made sure to tell my students, repeatedly, that if they had a problem or concern with me or something in our classroom, they should come straight to me. Immediately. Most things are just misunderstandings that can be quickly fixed.”
“Kids are often afraid to go to their teachers. Even the nicest of you are intimidating to them, especially when they’re feeling wronged in some way.”
“I get it. Really, I do. But when they go to their parents, who then turn around and call the principal rather than the teacher, so much gets lost in the translation. Today’s complaint could have been resolved by asking a simple question for clarification. Instead, it blew up into a parent believing a teacher told their student they couldn’t turn in an assignment late. Why am I dealing with that?”
“I’m assuming you told them to ask their student to talk to the teacher.”
“Yeah, and that went over like a lead balloon,” he huffed. “Turns out the answer was right in the teacher’s syllabus, which I found on the classroom webpage.”
“And of course neither child nor parent thought to look it up.”
“Correct.”
“So what did you do?”
“I read them the answer to the issue from the syllabus.”
