Cori was safe in her bed, ready for a good night kiss.
“I think I’m getting a cold,” Cori said. “My throat feels scratchy.”
“You just don’t want to sing tomorrow night,” Hope said.
“No, really, I think it’s a cold.”
Hope gave her a look of disbelief.
“I’ll infect all the other kids.” Cori adjusted her pillow.
“That’s too bad.”
“You want all those kids to have a lousy Christmas?”
“No, but I want to hear you sing.”
“You’ll be sorry.” Cori couldn’t hide a smile.
“Yeah, maybe. Good night, hon.”
Hope managed to steal a look at the moon before she slipped into bed. Max was right. The moon was gorgeous, full and bright, with the winter air clean and clear. Beautiful moons had once been her and Doug’s pastime. There was something about them, some calling, as if they affected the tides of emotions inside her. That was a silly thought, yet, she was stuck with it. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
For Hope, the run-up to Christmas was a downhill rush to chaos. Every day, her students grew more manic, more disorganized, more distracted. She had often thought that finals week should come at least one week earlier, or maybe after the holiday. Give the students a chance to burn off energy either after or before. Trying to hold their attention while visions of wrapped presents danced in their heads was almost impossible, but Hope had to try. And she thought she did a decent job of it. The children managed to get through the morning without too much strife.
Since Hope did not have lunch duty … a chore demanding eyes in the back of her head … she ate lunch in the teacher’s lounge. That was a luxury, as many days she ate at her desk, as she graded papers or reviewed lesson plans.
Her little bit of respite didn’t need the help of Colin Angleton, but Colin dropped into the seat opposite her anyway.
“I heard you ate at Culpepper last night,” he said.
“We did,” she answered. “It was quite nice.”
Colin raised his very bushy eyebrows that drew one’s attention away from his watery eyes. He taught science, and she’d been told he was gay. He had a soft-spoken manner, and his fingernails were always manicured. She thought clean hands were an asset for someone who worked in a lab. But while his hands were clean, and his clothes neat, his teeth were crooked and rather yellow. No one had explained that to her.
“And you chatted with Clive Thomas,” Colin said.
“He was kind enough to welcome us and answer a few questions.”
“About what?”
“A project of mine,” Hope said. “Don’t tell anyone, but I dabble in romance writing on the side.”
“Oh, really? Anything I might have read?”
“I’m sure not. I mean, I’ve written only one or two, and I was the ghost writer on those.”
“Ghost writer? You write for money?”
“Only for money.” Hope laughed. “And not much of it. Anyway, I am working on a story about a sea captain and a stowaway woman. Since it’s set in the past, I picked Clive’s brain about an ancestor of his, Captain Jackson Thomas.”
“That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Clive Thomas’s shenanigans. It’s in his blood.”
“He seemed civil.”
“He can be. So, tell me, is there any money in romance writing?”
“I haven’t found it yet, but there might be. Millions of people read romance books.”
“I might have to start. You write any gay romance?”
“I have no experience with gay romance,” Hope answered.
“Well, should you wish to write something, I might be able to help you out.”
“I’ll remember that. Thanks.”
Hope left Colin at the table and returned to her classroom a few minutes early. She had no sooner settled behind her desk when Diana walked in.
Diana was not the smartest girl in the class, but she might have been the heaviest. In a way, Hope felt sorry for the girl. It was obvious that she didn’t come from wealth, or even the middle class. She was quiet, for the most part. Hope didn’t ask questions. Privacy was something to be respected.
“You got a minute?” Diana asked.
“If it’s about your grades, it will have to wait,” Hope said kindly. “I’m not allowed to give out information ahead of reporting it to the principal.”
“Nah, it ain’t about grades. I know you gotta do what you gotta do. It’s about the Christmas party tomorrow.”
“It’s not a Christmas party,” Hope said. “It’s a winter break party.”
“Yah, right, I hear ya. Kids all know it’s a Christmas party.”
“All right, it’s a Christmas party. What did you want to say?”
“Well, I know kids will bring gifts.”
“No gift exchange, Diana. That’s the rule.”
“No, I mean for you. Some kids will bring you a gift.”
“That isn’t necessary, and trust me, it will make no difference as to how I treat anyone.”
“I hear you, but I wanted you to know. I ain’t got the money for a gift.”
“I completely understand. I hope there’s not a lot of trouble at home.”
“No, ma’am, just the usual. I can handle it.”
Hope watched the girl walk back to her desk. Hope couldn’t stop the feeling of pity that surged through her. She didn’t always understand how things went well for some kids and not for others. She didn’t find any logic in the unequal distribution of talents and skills, even within families. Hope knew Diana had an older brother who had been an aspiring football player before he was arrested for selling drugs. Hope didn’t know the whole story, and she didn’t want to know. She just hoped Diana would have some kind of Christmas.
The afternoon provided an extra serving of silliness. Hope rolled with it, as the children were being children. They were not small adults as some teachers thought. If they could think like adults, they’d be adults. Hope managed to maintain a semblance of order. The students managed a level of exuberance. As they filed out at the end of the day, Hope sat and took a breather. The next day would be worse, as it was the class holiday party. They would be all wound up about that. Hope was bringing cookies from the Butter Up Bakery. A good time was expected.
But that was tomorrow.
Today, she had to take Cori home, get her dressed in her concert clothes, and bring her back to the school. That didn’t seem like much, unless Cori tried, one more time, to claim some sort of illness that precluded her from participating. She hoped Cori wouldn’t try to fly that plane.
And Cori didn’t.
In fact, Cori seemed positively happy to be singing in the concert. She ate a snack, changed clothes, and reported to the car in military order.
“What’s up?” Hope asked, as Cori slipped into the SUV.
“Not a thing,” Cori answered. “I’m ready to go. I’m going to hit every note tonight. I feel like a crooner.”
“Crooner? Where did you pick up that word?”
“Is it wrong?”
“No,” Hope said. “A crooner is a singer. In fact, it’s a rather quaint term for a singer. I’m just surprised you used it.”