But instead he just smiled. "Look, if you don't like what I ordered, we'll send it back, okay?" He leaned back and held out his hand at me. "It's not a big deal."
Something popped behind my eye. I stood up, grabbing my purse, hurrying before my anger made me cry. "It's a huge deal, Jonah," I said, throwing down a twenty because I'd be damned if I let him pay for this lunch even if I never got a chance to eat it. "I'm done here," I told him, and stalked out the door.
Chapter Thirteen
Ruby
It was seven thirty on a sleeting November morning. That alone was enough to justify my bad mood. The monthly faculty meeting was just gray icing on the crappy-weather cake.
I shuffled in to the teacher's lounge, clutching my travel coffee mug for dear life. My fellow teachers grunted at me, all clutching similar mugs, and we all studiously avoided looking at the back window.
That's where Gideon had always perched during these meetings.
"Good weekend?" Dee asked me as I pulled my chair as far away from Gid's spot as I could.
"Yeah it was okay," I said with a bland smile. How was I supposed to explain it to her? "I went out on a not-date with Jonah King - yeah, him - and it turns out he's a dick! I know! Just like everyone is always saying! And guess what, I'd let him kiss me and it was amazing but I never want him to come near me again!"
Yeah, no thank you. I'd prefer my fellow teachers to think of me as at least halfway intelligent. "How about your weekend?" I asked, eager to change the subject.
"Full of puke. Finley's sick now."
"Oh my god, you poor thing." Dee looked pretty rough, even when you took Monday morning into account.
"Do I smell like it? I swear, it's all I can smell." She sniffed her sleeve, looked worried a moment, and then sniffed it again. "Smell this and tell me?" she begged, shoving her arm under my nose.
"You're fine," I reassured her. Truth be told there was a faint sour smell clinging to her, but she looked halfway to tears with exhaustion so I wasn't going about to add to her stress levels like that. "I hope he's feeling better."
"My mom's got him today," she said. "I'm going to hear all about it if he pukes on her white sofa, I'll tell you that much."
I winced and opened my mouth to murmur something reassuring, but at that moment Principal Donovan entered with his clipboard. We all settled into our chairs, phones and notebooks at the ready, waiting for him to clear his throat and stop coughing. The dry hack I'd heard at the funeral was sounding a lot wetter now, I realized with a shiver of disgust.
"Good morning, he said, then took another sip of water. "Glad you're all here to brighten my morning." That got a small titter of appreciation. He glanced to the back by the window where Gid should have been. "I'm not going to pretend that this is a normal meeting." I sat up a little straighter. "We lost a damn good man and a damn fine teacher last week."
We all nodded and murmured. I blinked fast against the tears that threatened and Dee clapped her hand on my shoulder then rubbed furious circles on my back. "We're all gonna miss him," Principal Donovan finished.
He coughed again, and then flipped through his clipboard. "But at the risk of sounding callous, he left some unfinished business here at the school." He looked up at us. "The spring play."
"Oh shit, yeah," Dee murmured as we looked at each other in consternation.
"I think we ought to have a discussion right now about how we want to proceed with that," Principal Donovan went on. And I swore he was looking right at me.
I shifted in my chair. The spring play was an annual tradition dating back way before I was attending Crown Creek Primary. It was really more of a showcase of the music teacher's talent than any sort of play with a storyline. Gideon had worked for months scoring the parts and writing music for thirty little voices to belt out while wearing felt costumes. This year's theme was 'Love Each Other.'
"It's his music," I spoke up, feeling like Principal Donovan was waiting for me to speak. "But he did write everything down, I know he did. Those papers were all over the music room all summer. I had to yell at him to get it cleaned up before the school year started." I looked around. "So we have everything we need to keep it going."
"But shouldn't we cancel it out of respect?" one of the upper grade teachers spoke up. "I mean, it's not like these are normal circumstances."
"The kids will be so disappointed though," Dee piped up. Her daughter Kayleigh had been cast in the chorus and she was inordinately proud. "The parts have all been cast."
"How long until we can hire a new music teacher?" the school secretary wanted to know. I snapped my head over to glare at her, but she ignored me.
"I don't know if getting someone new right away is such a good idea," someone said. "The kids are already upset, it might confuse them."
"Or worse, make the new teacher a target," Dee said. "I mean the parts have already been cast, so all we need is for someone to step in."
"About that?" Anna, one of the speech therapists spoke up, which was rare. She waited while we all turned to listen, then looked down at one of her folders. "Lydia Walker, a new fourth grader? She expressed an interest in auditioning. She knows she's too late for a featured role, but I told her the chorus was still an option." She winced. "I hope that was okay. She could really use the socialization.
"Wait, Lydia Walker?" Dee turned to me. "Is she one of the Chosen kids?"
"Beats me," I shrugged at the same time a fourth grade teacher said, "Yes, she is." She turned to Anna. "But I didn't think the Chosen would let their kids be in plays?"
"Especially girls," someone added to general agreement.
Anna was nodding. "This is sort of a special case. It seems like Lydia's older sister just left the group last year."
"A defector?"
"Do they shun defectors?" Dee wondered. I shrugged again.
Anna straightened up. "My understanding is that the loss of her older sister was a huge blow, and they maybe realized that if they didn't allow some leeway, they might lose their other child too."
I wracked my brain, wondering if I had seen little Lydia in the hallways. She would have stood out with her low coiled bun and long denim skirts. I wondered what kind of courage it had taken her sister to be able to leave her family behind like that, and I also keenly wondered what had caused her to leave.
"Well, we'll have to make sure the costumes involve long skirts," said the PE teacher.
There were a few scandalized giggles and Principal Donovan raised his hands. "Okay everyone, settle down," he said. "So I think we've agreed that we're moving forward with the play.
I nodded vigorously and looked around to see my fellow teachers nodding along with me. "Great," said Principal Donovan. But that still doesn't settle the question of how we're going to do it."
"We could hire someone from the community?" Dee said.