How the hell has it come to this?
I watch him go, partly because I want to make sure he really leaves and partly because he does, damn him, have a fine ass. No harm in looking, ladies. Then I head back into the classroom, feeling a bit raw inside but aware that I’ve left Mikey alone for too long.
When I go back in, all the kids are sitting at their computers, the program up and running, and Mikey beams at me with pride. Honestly, it’s deserved. Our boss has given us no easy task.
Jane’s gaze instantly narrows on me. “What did my dad say to you?”
“He told me to keep an eye on you,” I say, pointing two fingers toward my eyes then toward hers.
Jane pouts a little. “It’s not like I’m the only one to have ever shoved another kid off a riser.”
I take a second look at her and see her nose is a bit pink and swollen. Ah, the tolls of battle.
“You got into a fight, huh?”
“It was less of a fight than an offensive move,” she says, sounding more like a college student than a third grader. Then again, what do I know.
“Your honesty commends you,” I say, although Mikey seems to disagree. He’s shrunk away from Jane as if he fears she’s going to pushhimoff a riser. Maybe it’s another elementary school flashback. I’m impressed, actually. I admire the kid’s scrappiness. “But there will be no fighting of any kind in this class, unless you count the fights we can 100% set up in our Scratch games. Are you ready for that, girls?”
“I’m still a boy,” Ollie says.
“Yes, Ollie. Sorry about that.” Shit. I need to start remembering he’s here.
“Can we really make fighting games?” one of the girls asks, looking much too excited about it. She’s petite and blond, wearing a blue dress straight out of a Disney movie, although I can’t remember the name offhand. She is also, apparently, bloodthirsty.
“Abso-fu…Absolutely.”
“You were going to say a bad word, weren’t you?” Jane says solemnly. “Dad says I’m not supposed to say that word in school anymore.”
I almost laugh, because fuck it, that’s kind of funny. But I don’t want to give Cole the satisfaction of making me laugh. Sure, he’d never know. ButI’dknow.
“I think we’re getting a little off-track,” Mikey says gently. “We have some basic learning to do before we get to the fighting games stage of development.” He gives me a significant look. “Plus, it might not be to our advantage if they all present violent battle games at the presentation before Christmas.”
I shrug. “I think it’ll make them look like tough, take-no-prisoners women. What do you think, ladies?”
Ollie clears his throat. “Can I be a tough, take-no-prisoners man?”
“Sure,” I say with a sigh, “but I think we’ve all seen enough of those. Maybe you should work on a zookeeping game or something.”
“I’d prefer to do a fighting game,” he says.
Of course he would.
Eloise, bless her, is already a pearl clutcher, but the rest of them look fired up.
Mikey and I get to teaching after that, and other than the feet smell and the excessive questions, it’s not quite as bad as I thought it would be. The kids are all engaged and interested, and I’ll be honest, Jane is kind of a hoot.
About midway through, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I fish it out, and to my shock, it’s a notification from the Matchmake Me app.
My pulse picks up as I open it.
It’s a message from Hot Rod.
I guess some people would say I’m an asshole, but I prefer “too busy to care about impressing people.” I’m not sure I believe any two people could be 97% compatible. What does that mean anyway? Would we never fight over the remote control or what food to order or whether Batman vs. Superman is a terrible movie?
Huh. I wasn’t expecting to hear back from Hot Rod. In fact, I was about ready to tell Judith to connect me to my next highest match, a seventy-five-percenter with the enviable name of Roger Rabbit.
