Page 8 of Love Me Not

“You too?” she said. “Are they getting wilder or are we just old?”

“Speak for yourself,” he replied. “I’m only forty.”

Latrelle joined us at the table. “Didn’t we throw you a fortieth birthday party three years ago?”

Harvey leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, revealing the navy blue patches on the elbows of his plaid shirt. “That still doesn’t make me old.”

“But it does make you a liar,” I pointed out. “We can’t all get the upperclassmen. Think of it as taking one for the team.”

“And by team she means society as a whole.” Georgie rose from her chair. “I’m going home to have a tall glass of rosé, and a long soak with a good book.”

“You could always pull a Mary Jo,” Harvey said. “Bring the rosé to school and hide it in a flask in your desk.”

If only that wasn’t a firing offense. “We still have no proof she did that.”

Mary Joe Mathers carried a heavy Wednesday vibe about her. With the all black wardrobe, constant scowl, and ability to remain stone-faced in any situation, every student who ever took her Geometry class was scared to death of her. They also learned a ton despite the fear. Or maybe because of it.

Her sister, Nina, was a school secretary and the polar opposite, always smiling, ready with a laugh, and decked out daily in bright colors. I would never understand how the two grew up in the same family and turned out so drastically different.

Then again, maybe I could. I was the middle of five kids and my oldest brother and I couldn’t be more opposite. Though he qualified as an elder millennial, he had the attitude and outdated thinking of a full-fledged boomer.

“We’ll make this fast so you can get to practice,” Jacob Kim said as he stepped into the lounge with Bernice Swinzinski and Coach Collins on his heels. Bernice taught Ancient History and Anthropology, plus proctored the debate team.

“Hey, everyone,” he said to the gathering, “this is Trey Collins. You probably heard about him taking over as the head football coach. He’s also joined the Social Studies department taking on World History and Economics.”

Greetings were exchanged around the room with class subjects rattled off. When they got to me I waved away the introduction.

“We’ve met.”

“I heard,” Jacob said with a chuckle.

Dave Piper and Nancy Choi, both from the math department, walked in then, and Jacob moved on to introduce them to the coach, leaving me wondering what that chuckle was about.

Did he find the man nearly causing me bodily harm—twice—amusing?

Once everyone knew each other, a brief conversation took place between the coaches in the room, including Harvey St. Charles for baseball and Dave Piper from the softball team. Then Coach Collins headed off to practice and minutes later, the gathering dispersed with teachers heading back to their rooms or off to the faculty parking lot.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that,” Georgie said as we walked to our cars.

“Notice what?”

“The way he looked at you.”

So she caught the chuckle too. “What was that about? Jacob should know better than to think I’d find my encounters with Collins laughable.”

She lifted a tote higher onto her shoulder. “Not Jacob. Trey.”

“Coach Collins?”

“He was the only Trey in that room and you know it. I counted five glances.”

Being an author required a vivid imagination, but this bordered on delusional.

“You’re crazy. If anything, he was probably watching to see if I’d fall out of my chair.”

We each shoved one of the double doors open to step into the sunlight. “I know a look of interest when I see one,” she said, “and I saw five. You’ve intrigued him.”

“I’ve never intrigued a man in my life. You need to save these fantasies for your novels.”