Page 72 of Guarded Deputy

“Already, Ms. A?” One of my students complains.

“Yup, you got five extra minutes. Now, we get to do science.” I smile widely and clap my hands, overdoing my excitement, and he frowns.

Same, kid. I never liked science either, so I try to find fun activities to enhance my students’ learning.

“Boys, let’s go,” I tell a small group of boys that are still running around the playground. “Now,” I say firmly, and they look at me and race to the line.

“Hey!” A girl yells when one of the boys accidentally pushes her in his attempt to win the race.

I need patience today. It’s theMonday-estMonday that everMonday-ed, and I’m over it.

We walk back to the class and the children get settled in their desks, some already taking out their science workbook before I even have to ask. At least they’re cooperating in small ways. Nothing pricks my patience more than having to repeat something a million times when it’s clear they hear me and choose to ignore me.

My steps falter as I get to my desk, finding a Frappuccino I definitely didn’t buy. I grab the cup, condensation cooling my hand, and see words scribbled on the plastic.

You’re my cup of coffee.

I can’t fight the smile that covers my face. Happiness swirls inside of me, and I hold back a squeal because that would be more embarrassing than my underwear flashing if my students were to ask what I’m so happy about.

I take a satisfying sip and place the cup back on my desk, getting ready for class.

“Ms. A, who gave you that?” Dana, a student, points to my cup.

“Oh, just a friend.” I wave her off, focusing on the lesson about the different habitats.

“Was it Ms. Church?” another student calls out. “She’s your best friend.”

“Maybe it was her boyfriend,” another calls out.

My eyes widen, and I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s focus on the class.” I clap my hands.

I go over the five main habitats, explaining the characteristics of the first when another student interrupts me.

“Ms. A, shouldn’t it say,I’m your cup of coffeeand notyou aresince it’s written on the cup?”

I sigh, rolling my head back. Goodness, who knew a Frappuccino would create such an upheaval in class?

“That looks like Uncle Nate’s handwriting,” Walker speaks up, and I almost throw my marker at him. I wouldn’t really hit him with it, but why did he have to say that?

“What?” I squeak. “No.” I shake my head.

“He scribbles like that and my mom always calls it kitchen scratch,” Walker adds, willing to demonstrate his point.

I chuckle and correct him. “Chicken scratch.”

“Yeah, that.” He shrugs.

“Is Deputy Moore your boyfriend?” Dana’s eyes shine with mischief.

“No. I’m not sure who gave me this coffee, but it was probably Ms. Church.”

“Then you shouldn’t drink something from a stranger. That’s what Deputy Moore taught us.” Stephanie crosses her arms, full of sass.

“Boys and girls.” I slightly raise my voice. “We have work to do. The coffee was from a friend, and that’s all that matters. We’re here to learn.” I widen my eyes, pretending to be in control, when in reality my heart is pounding so hard.

Of course Walker would recognize his uncle’s handwriting. Children are smart and perceptive. I pray he doesn’t bring it up to anyone else, or that any of the other students tell their parents that Deputy Moore gave me coffee.

I’d rather leave my personal life outside of these doors where it belongs.