I head to the coffee pot to brew a lighter pot than Malcolm’s gasoline, and scope out the produce he’s brought in: eggplants, apples, and some squash. I grin at his generosity.
“Fall is Malcolm’s favorite,” I say motioning to the fresh goods he’s provided.
“No it’s not,” Malcolm growls over his shoulder.
“He will never admit to having a favorite anything,” I fake whisper, “but I know it is. He always brings more produce in the fall, stays at the school longer, and healwaysagrees to participate in the classroom decorating contest.”
Ellie gasps. “You do not!”
“He’s lying,” Malcolm mumbles into his mug.
“Granted his decoration is a single pumpkin sticker on the center of his door.” I shrug, pulling out a mug for Ellie and myself. “It’s more than we would expect at any other time of year from Mr. Geer.”
The coffee finishes brewing and I fill our mugs the same way, a fourth cinnamon creamer, the rest with coffee, and a spoon to stir. She watches me and I can’t make out the look on her face as I hand her the cup. We linger by the pot for a moment before I walk over and sit next to Malcolm.
I ask him, “So how is Devon doing in your class?”
Malcolm rolls his eyes. “Could be doing better. Kid won’t even try.”
“It seems that way, huh?”
“It’s a shame to just quit trying when you’re so close. Makes no sense.” He lets out an exasperated sigh, Malcolm doesn’t have the patience for laziness.
“Maybe he just wants some freedom—enjoy his childhood before going off to college.” I force an optimistic tone, afraid my feelings towards DJ are becoming anything but.
We start discussing Devon and some of the other football players and I see Ellie pull out her notebook and start doodling. I try to respect her privacy, but I also want to know every little thing about her.
I steal glances of the paper. Surely if it was private she wouldn’t have it out in the open, right?
Malcolm goes on about the season and the need to find an assistant coach—something I was definitely putting on the back burner.
“I know, we will figure that out.” I glance at the notebook again.
Fall leaves.
Pumpkins.
Eggplants.
She erases the eggplant forcefully and peeks up at me embarrassed. Probably because it resembles something one shouldn’t doodle in a public school.
I can’t help but grin at her. Her cheeks go red and she shuts the notebook.
“I’m tired of being the only one in charge of those kids.”
Malcolm was only supposed to be an interim head coach until we filled Eric’s spot. But the applicants recently have been less than optimal and Malcolm was doing such a fantastic job, it was hard for me to push for a replacement. He finally agreed to stay head coach, as long as I found him an adequate assistant.
“He wants to act like a child. They all do. A child can’t handle college.”
I guess we are back to Devon.
“Surely he will come to his senses and learn how to handle everything. He’s done so much already, one more year of child-like fun won’t be terrible.”
“We’ll see.”
Malcolm doesn’t have as much hope for the students as I do. But he is a good teacher and he always does what’s right. Right now, that might be letting a student fail so they will learn the principles of discipline and perseverance—even if it affects his faculty performance review.
“Did you get the invite to the Halloween party?” I ask him, nudging Ellie with my elbow. Grasping at straws for a subject change.
