A low voice infused with humor was talking with another higher-pitched one that sounded way too girly to be Mrs. Woodward’s. I rolled my eyes before entering the open doorway. Everyone quit talking and looked up at once. I very briefly met his eyes before aiming a smile at Mrs. Woodward and Andrew.
“Drewy!” Mikey ran over to tackle big brother.
“Hey, Shadow.” Andrew unpeeled Mikey and deposited him on the floor, where he immediately knocked over some metal bins. After the percussional crash, I was greeted by a reprimand: “Hey, Kate—you’re late.”
“Yeah, but only by one teensy little minute,” I replied, ruffling Andrew’s hair. I turned to address his teacher, who was all lip-sticked up today. Glowing, that would be the word I would use to describe her. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Woodward. I hope we’re not keepin’ you.”
“Oh, goodness no!” she immediately demurred. “It’s fine. We’ve just been havin’ so much fun. Haven’t we gentlemen?”
“Oh, good. I’m glad.” My smile didn’t quite reach my eyes.
“Katherine, have you had a chance to meet Andrew’s mentor yet?”
I recoiled at the word and had to clear the bitter from my throat before speaking. “I-I don’t think so.” I faced Pete with a face out-glowing Mrs. Woodward’s, I’m sure.
He raised an eyebrow at me, one corner of his mouth quirking up—a particularly cute expression I was growing familiar with.
“Katherine Connelly . . .” Mrs. Woodward enthusiastically made the introductions, “meet Cadet Peter Davenport, the International Elite Academy transfer and mentor extraordinaire!”
“That’s kind of a mouthful,” he said, reaching for my hand with a self-deprecating smile. I fought the urge to wipe my clammy palm on my skirt before shaking his hand. “Just Pete’s fine. It’s so very nice to formally meet you, Katherine . . . I’ve heard so much about you.” He smoldered down at me shamelessly.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I managed to croak out, wondering what he could’ve possibly heard . . . and from whom. I immediately withdrew my hand from his. “And just Kate, please.”
I was going for one-upmanship, but ended up with passive-aggressive.
“Oh, my! You youngsters sure are polite. Makes me have faith in the world’s youth again.” Mrs. Woodward cluelessly beamed her approval.
Pete and I exchanged glances. His lips twitched, and I had to work hard not to crack a smile, too. I’m sure he was also remembering our not so polite exchanges the other night. Was it really just the night before last when it all happened? It seemed like so much had happened in such a short amount of time. Felt like I was suffering from vertigo . . . Or is that feeling from being in his presence again?
“How did it go today?” I asked Andrew, changing the subject and the view.
“Fine.” Andrew’s standard answer.
“Great.” I used my own standby. “Well, we better get goin’. Grab your backpack and thank Mrs. Woodward and . . . ah, Cadet Davenport for their time.”
“Just Pete’s fine,” he reminded me with a smile so shining it almost pierced through my armor.
I had to catch my breath like I’d been running on a treadmill this whole time. “Okay then . . . Pete. I, ah, guess we’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
“My pleasure. I look forward to it . . . Andy’s a great kid.”
“We think so.” I threw a possessive arm around Andrew’s shoulders, glancing down at him to read his reaction. (He usually hated that name, preferring Drew instead.) Andrew was actually staring up at Pete with what could only be interpreted as admiration. My heart sank like a tank. Oh no! Not you too, Drews!
Deciding to move it along quickly, I grabbed Mikey’s hand from where it had wandered over to a winking computer. “Thanks again, Mrs. Woodward.”
“Oh, my pleasure!” She clasped her hands beneath her chin. “I have such a good feelin’ about this!”
Well that makes one of us I thought sourly, but simply smiled back, tight-lipped, while using my other hand to steer Andrew out the door—he didn’t seem in any great hurry to leave.
“Excuse me, Kate,” Pete said, and I glanced over my shoulder. “Tomorrow I thought I would take Andy to the Learning Center, so you can pick him up there at 4:30, if that works for you. If not, I’d be happy to drive him home. I should also have his Mensa scores by then so I’ll be able to share them with you.”
I physically cringed—Mensa was an IQ test for geniuses, not my eight-year-old brother. Everything was becoming all too real. “Guess that works for me,” I let slip through grit teeth. Then whipped my brothers out the door, where we began walk-running down the hallway.
“Where’s the fire?” said Andrew.
“Can we go pway on the pwayground?” Mikey asked, while banging into lockers as I half dragged him behind me.
“Not today, buddy.”
“Kadee! Yo’wer goin’ too fast!”
“Hold up, Kate!” Pete called down the hallway, and I tensed up.
Could I pretend I didn’t hear? Both boys automatically stopped and turned around. Dang! I thought, but my heart skipped a beat or two as I watched him trot our way. A lock of hair flopped over his forehead. He brushed it back, beaming at us like we’d just made his day by stopping to wait for him.
Wow. I had to force my eyes away. Avoidance would definitely be the way to go here.
“Hey.” Pete gave me an indecipherable look. “I thought I’d walk you out, if that’s okay.”
“Sure!” Andrew answered for me.
We formed a tight little quartet as we headed into the front office, where we were stopped by Mr. Brooks. A few eager pleasantries from the principal and secretary held us up for a few more minutes. I leaked out a sigh, debating about whether or not to interrupt their conversation so we could make our escape. Pete caught my eye and smiled privately at me as though we were in it together.
After a moment, he interrupted Mr. Brook’s story about his Air Force days. “It was very nice to meet you both. Everyone has been very welcoming and helpful, and I really appreciate it. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah sure,” Mr. Brooks blustered, his reddening face finding mine. “Katie, this is a wonderful opportunity for Andrew. Please tell your father he made the right decision here.”
“Will do.” No such thing, I thought, moving to push out the door. But Pete was too fast, reaching out to open it for all of us to walk through. “Thanks,” I bit out, manners getting the best of me.
As soon as we exited the building, the afternoon sun pelted us, so we all paused under the small patch of shade provided by the faded-green awning. An awkward silence seemed to have followed us out the door. Pete just looked at me, waiting. Andrew followed his lead. Even little Mikey peered up at me expectantly.
“Uh . . . thanks for walkin’ us out,” I finally said.
Pete just remained silent, staring down at me with a look I decided was a humor-hurt hybrid. “That’s it? You’re not even going to ask any questions?”
I wasn’t sure what that wounded look was all about (and didn’t much care I told myself). And I couldn’t exactly speak freely in front of my brothers, and wasn’t allowed to ask him anything anyway, so wasn’t sure what there was to say. I relegated myself to shrugging my shoulders.