But he wasn’t done. His eyes flashed with warning before he took a step closer to me and lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “You think all these gadgets and knickknacks make you a better teacher? They don’t.” His gaze landed on the glass plaque on my desk. “I couldn’t sleep at night if I didn’t think I’d earned my accolades on my own merits. But by all means, you do you.”
And with that, he stormed out of my room and into the hallway, all before my brain could catch up to even form a comeback.
Chapter Three
Gil—hereare the questions all buddy teachers need to work on together. I need them by Friday afternoon. Let me know if you need anything—APD
I readthe email twice the next afternoon and groaned into my hand. Spending time withmy buddyChristopherseemed as appetizing as eating an entire pack of glitter glue, safety warnings be damned. Regret washed over me, making my face burn. His accusations replayed in my head like neon signs.You can’t bribe your way into getting awards.
I didn’t trick them. Yes, I spent hundreds of my own dollars on my classroom, but didn’t all teachers do that? Sure, I had more money than most, but spending it on students never seemed like a trick or a ploy. Their faces lit up in my classroom when they got to play with clay or try something different. I rubbed my temples and hated that I thought doing the buddy teachers would help me prove myself to the school.
Instead of growing professionally and maybe making a friend along the way, I was partnered up with the jerk whose uptight expression—which seemed to be reserved just for me—made my jaw clench. That was the other part of the puzzle that made me lose sleep. He was nice to everyone else. He’d had Miranda cackling like a hyena when I dropped off calendars to be laminated. He flashed an easy smile to my team, the administration, the kids, but the scowl, the almost tangible hatred, was reserved for me and me alone.
Really made a girl feel special.
I switched from tea to water two hours ago, and it was almost time to switch to a cold margarita…which would be my reward once I survived going over these buddy questions with Christopher. APD wouldn’t take any excuses, and telling him mybuddyteacher hated me would make him laugh. Who would believe it when Christopher had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand?
I took a moment and built up my courage despite the hurt from his words the day before. I loved my kids, and they learned from me. Parents always thanked me at the end of the year, and my coworkers never said a word about mycrap.They encouraged the exploration of new ideas. My Teacher of the Year award wasn’t bought. I had earned it…right?
He was so darn wrong, yet my eyes still prickled at the wave of worry causing a small dark cloud over my confidence. Self-doubt was a dangerous thing, and I had it in waves when it came to my dating life, but it rarely crept in professionally. When I found out the woman my brother was going to propose to was actually a con artist and using us, our family money, for her own gain, it really put a damn damper on my outlook on life and love. But that didn’t matter when I had my job to fulfill me. However, Christopher’s words poked holes in that argument, hitting me where it hurt the most. My stomach ached with uncertainty, and I studied my classroom, unable to smile at all the decorations. They mocked me now.
Damn it.I sighed and shook my head, forcing my thoughts into better territory. I was good at my job and a professional, so I would get through these questions with Christopher and call it a day.
I grabbed my rainbow notebook and pulled the questions up on my phone before walking to his room. My flats were almost noiseless in the hall, and with a growing sense of dread, I knocked. The small window gave me a glance into his room, and I hated how plain and boring it was. He didn’t have the quirky personality of Maria or the motherly-fatherly vibe that Maggie had, and he certainly didn’t have my bubbly personality, so the fact his classroom was bare bones bothered me. Kids liked colors and visuals and things to stare at. The white walls with the black-and-white pledge of allegiance poster didn’t exactly spark joy or creativity. The only thing it sparked was depression.
Kids need to learn, not have crap everywhere.
His lean and tall body appeared in the window, and the curious expression shifted to annoyance the second his gaze met mine. He didn’t hide his disdain when he opened the door and leaned against the frame—not letting me in. “Hello, Ms. Carter.”
“Mr. Callahan, I need ten minutes of your time.”
“Mm,” he responded, running his gaze up and down my body with a slight flexing of his jaw. “Surprised you can spare ten minutes. Just think of all the crafts you could make or wasteful trinkets you could buy.”
I gritted my teeth to prevent myself from saying something I’d regret and walked right under his arm and into his room. I plopped down on a small chair and wasted no time. “Christopher, what has been your biggest challenge here, and how can I help?”
He took his time waltzing to his desk. His black slacks fit him well—too well—and his deep-blue sweater matched his eyes to a T. Dark lashes framed those eyes, and…
Dang it. Stop ogling him.
“Challenge?” He repeated the word and gave me a wide smile that sent my nerve endings haywire. Nothing good would come from that sinister smile. “Colleagues.”
“Could you expand more?” I wrote down his answer as my face burned with anger. We both knew he was referring to me. “What exactly makes yourcolleaguesa challenge?”
“Different opinions on what it means to be a teacher.” He leaned back into his chair and smirked at me. “What would you suggest if a teacher had concerns about a fellow member of their team?”
“Say what you want.” My heart pounded, and my face burned hot, but my tone was ice. “You sure said what you wanted yesterday.”
“I did. That is true.” He picked a piece of lint off his shirt and sighed before snapping his gaze to my face. “Next question. I’d like to get this over with as I have lessons to plan that don’t require expensive toys and flashy objects.”
“Fine,” I said, ignoring the now pounding headache at the base of my skull. He’d baited me, but I refused to take it. “What is your goal outside our first-grade professional learning community team?”
“Winning Teacher of the Year.” His gaze met mine, and he smirked.Jerk.
It took everything in my body to not throw something at him. “Hefty goal,” I said between clenched teeth, clutching the pen so hard ink bled through the page.
He looked at me like he was bored out of his mind. Blank face, no smile, narrowed eyes. It was intimidating and made me stutter on my next question. “How, uh, do you go about achieving that goal? Is there anything I can do to support you?”
He ran a hand over his jaw and leaned forward onto the desk. To anyone else, it would appear he was interested in me or what I was saying, but I knew better. This was a challenge. “Yes, there is something you can specifically do to support me.”
