She halts and faces me. Her neck and cheeks go bright red as she glances around. Leaning in to whisper, she says, “With my prom dress.”
“Nope.” Absolutely not. I turn on my heel and speed away. There is no way in hell I’m partaking in any extra prom activities. I’ve done enough. I don’t even want to go to this stupid thing. Last night at Wafflin’, we ended up reliving our prom memories, and I had to endure telling my traumatizing memory—how Tracy Dilbeck agreed to be my date and then ditched me after two songs to make out with Georgie Hall. Then, she had the audacity to ask me for a ride home when Georgie decided he wanted to take Piper Holmes to the after-party and not her. It was the most humiliating night of my transformative years—more humiliating than when I tried frosted tips.
“Please, Coach!” Sarah pleads, tailing me into the break room. “Benny said you guys would be there today, and my mom won’t be back in time!”
Ellie, who is working tirelessly on the prom banners that will never see the light of day, looks up from the center of the break room, eyes filled with concern. “What’s going on?”
“Mr. Geer won’t help me!” Sarah points an accusatory finger at me and pouts. Ellie shoots a deadly gaze in my direction. I know Sarah is her favorite student, no matter how much she denies it. Sarah gives me a disgruntled sigh and bats her sad lashes at Ellie, which makes Ellie cross her arms at me like I’m some kind of delinquent.
Thanks a lot, kid.
“Why won’t you help her?” Ellie asks, a twinkle of manipulation in her eyes as she waits for my response. I know this song and dance too well. She’ll ask me a thousand questions, cornering me into a self-reflective whirlpool, then I’ll start to drown in my defenses, swirling around and around in my head until I realize she’s right and I’m wrong, succumbing to her advice, letting her reach out her metaphorical hand, and taking it before I die on the wrong hill. Which doesn’t make sense, I know. How could there be a whirlpool on top of a hill? I don’tknow. I just know that Ellie is too damn good at her job, and I hate it.
And I can already see what’s about to happen. Somehow, someway, Ellie is going to convince me that helping Sarah is a normal aspect of my job description, and I should accept it. So, instead of answering her question and risking that, I back away from the pile of glitter and glue at our feet and head toward the door.
“Mr. Geer,” Ellie snaps, trying to draw me back in.
Stay strong, Malcolm. Do not let this woman and her guilt-ridden eyes suck you back in. You are a man. A man with principles. And those principles will not waver over some teenager drama.
I make it to the doorway, my boot halfway into the hall, when she says again, “Mr. Geer,” more pointedly this time.
“No, dammit. I will not help her with her prom dress issue. There is a line I will not cross, Ms. Bailey, and that line is made up of thread and tulle.” I hate myself for knowing what tulle is.
“Oh.” Ellie’s arms drop to her sides, realization moving across her face. Ha, I won. I beat that little minx. “Sarah…” She turns toward her, face filled with solemn understanding. “How about I help you with your dress?”
“No,hehas to!” She points in my direction. I take another step out into the hall. They’re like bears. If I back away slowly, I won’t get attacked.
“Can you tell me why Mr. Geer has to be the one to help you?”
“Because!” Sarah groans, covering her face with her hands, cat ears toppling forward slightly. She speaks into her hands when she says, “Because he was a football player, which means he knows what football players like.” Her words come out high-pitched and whiney, which grates me even more. I have to get out of here.
“Oh boy.” Ellie looks at me sympathetically, eyebrows arching skyward as if to tell me I should consider helping her.
“Please don’t make me,” I whisper pathetically.
“Hi!” Kate startles me, walking up to me in the hallway. “Whatcha doin’?”
“I’m getting bombarded by these two, that’s what!” I am now the one pointing accusatory fingers with both hands, like it’s a stick-up in an old western.
“Mr. Geer has been requested to assist Sarah Kim with a prom task,” Ellie sing-songs, as if this entire situation is a normal occurrence for an almost forty-year-old.
“Of course he’ll help you, Sarah!” Kate sing-songs right back, hugging my arm as unrelenting pride sparks in her eyes at me. “What do you need?” Kate directs her attention back to Sarah with her arms still wrapped around mine like a koala bear clinging to its branch.
“I need help deciding what dress to wear.”
“Oh…” Kate’s shock loosens her grip, hands sliding down and away from my arm. She looks at me warily, and I give her a confirming nod. Yep, that’s what you just signed me up for. “Well, that’s, um…maybe that isn’t—”
“You just said he could help!” Sarah’s defiance shakes the cat ears again, this time the other direction, and they just about slide off her head and hit the floor.
“I— I did,” Kate stutters.
“And Benny—er, Principal Divata, whatever”—she corrects herself with a half-hearted wave—“said you were already going to be there today anyway, so it’s not like it’s an inconvenience!”
“You have a point,” Kate whispers contemplatively.
“Great! So I’ll meet you there!” Sarah skips toward the door, clearly proud of herself for winning this little battle.
“Way to go,” I grumble through the side of my mouth.
