The Principal's Office (33 page)

He’d wanted more from her. He wasn’t going to get it. For years, he’d taken care of his students, listened to their problems, counseled them, gotten fulfillment out of their successes. Yet he realized now that he’d lived his life one step back from true involvement. For the first time, with Rachel, he wanted to risk it all, dive headfirst into the murky waters of a real relationship. Only to find she wasn’t willing to take the same risk.

THERE SHOULD HAVE BEEN A GRAY SKY TO MATCH THE PALL HANGING
over her. Yet the sun was so bright Rachel had to put her sunglasses on to drive.

He didn’t get it. He could be dispassionate about it because he wasn’t a parent and didn’t have to worry about what his kids would think of him, that they might possibly hate him. That’s why he was willing to fight. Because he had less to lose.

He was wrong, though. Gary
would
use that video against her, and the boys would hate her for it. She had no choice but to end the relationship once and for all.

But she hated herself for not being a fighter like he was.

“SINCE THERE’S NO WAY TO PROVE WHO DID WHAT TO WHOM AND
when,” Rand said, “I’m holding you all responsible.”

This counted twice today that Nathan had been called to the principal’s office. The group sat across the desk from Rand, Nathan on the right, Molcini and Franchetti in the two chairs closest to the window.

Rand glowered at them all, waiting for a response. No one said a thing. So he did. “I’m not suspending you. Instead, I’m offering you an opportunity.”

He didn’t rat out Nathan, but instead made it sound like he was punishing them equally. It was the only way the plan would work, and Nathan was fully on board with it.

“I’m assigning all three of you as Wally’s bodyguards.”

Tom snorted. Rick grumbled. Nathan said, “Just what does that mean?”

When Rand unveiled his plan, they hadn’t rehearsed what they’d say, but Nathan was falling in with the correct dialogue. Making them bodyguards would accomplish two things. Wally
would be safe, and it afforded the other two boys the opportunity to discover that Wally was an awesome kid, just as Nathan had during his time in the special ed lab. Perhaps that was wishful thinking—Molcini and Franchetti could well be lost causes—but the beauty of the plan was in giving Nathan a chance to redeem himself in his own eyes. He would take this duty seriously.

“It means,” Rand said, “that I will hold all three of you responsible for Wally’s well-being here at school. If anyone hassles him, you will all defend him.”

Tom cocked his head. “And, like, what, we gotta come and rat to you if anyone gives him a bad time?”

Rand stared him down. “I expect you gentlemen to handle it on your own. Without fighting. I assume that once you’ve established your authority, no one will bully Wally again.”

“So, like, all three of us have to hang around the kid all day long?” Rick gaped. He looked like an ape.

“It won’t be necessary to sit in his classrooms. To and from class, to and from the bus, and during lunch period will suffice.”

“Geez.” Rick rolled his eyes and drooped dramatically in his chair. “That’s every freaking minute of the day. When do we get to hang out with our friends?”

Rand raised one eyebrow. “The easiest thing would be to include Wally.”

Tom let out a noise that was half a disgusted snort, half retching. “You gotta be kidding.”

“I’m simply giving you the responsibility for ensuring Wally’s welfare with all the latitude of deciding how you three will accomplish that
together
.” He enunciated clearly to make sure the boys got it.

Nathan played his role superbly. “But if we don’t have to rat on each other or anyone else, how are you going to know if we screw it up?”

Rick snickered.

Leaning forward, Rand eyed them all. “I’ll be watching.”

It was democratic in that they could decide how they managed the assignment, and autocratic because they had no choice but to try. Rand hadn’t asked Nathan to report on the other two; he’d simply tasked the boy with making sure Wally was good to go. He’d taken Nathan into his confidence with the plan, trusted him to carry it out.

He might have lost Rachel, but he wouldn’t lose her son to a pack of bullies.

IT FELT LIKE THE MORNING AFTER. AND IT WAS; RACHEL HADN’T
slept well. But she’d been a damn good mom this morning, letting Nathan drive to school without once stomping on her imaginary passenger brake. Funnily enough, he hadn’t become furtive and embarrassed about having to drive the dreaded
minivan
. He’d even waved good-bye. Justin had hopped out of the car after accepting a quick kiss, and run across the street to the middle school.

She hadn’t bugged Nathan about his homework last night, hadn’t asked how working in the special education lab was going. She didn’t want to mention Rand’s name, both for herself—the pain was too raw after that showdown in his office earlier in the day—and because she didn’t want to start a fight with Nathan. She was done with fighting for now. If she did everything right, maybe they’d tell Gary they wanted to see her more than one weekend per month.

It was going to be hell no matter what happened. Somehow, someday, she would make Gary pay for this.

At work, Yvonne was her usual self—in other words, totally impossible. To be fair, she’d only been so since starting to teach Rachel the order entry system—
start
being the operative word, because they certainly hadn’t made any progress. Rachel wasn’t going to talk to Erin about it either, no way.

“Not there. Here.” Yvonne stabbed the screen as Rachel entered the customer number. “You have to do the lookup first.”

“I already know the number so I don’t have to look it up.” It was written right on the piece of paper from which Rachel had been keying.

“But if you don’t do the lookup, it won’t pull all the customer information.”

Before Yvonne could snatch the keyboard, Rachel typed the last number and hit Enter. The screen populated with all the correct customer information. “See, it worked.”

Yvonne glared. “I know it
works
,” she said waspishly. “But it’s inefficient to look it up and handwrite all the customer numbers
first
.”

“I didn’t look it up. I remembered it from the last time.”

Yvonne narrowed her eyes until they were slits, then breathed deeply as if trying very hard not to scream. “You could have gotten it wrong, then you might have put the whole order against the wrong customer. Some of the names are very similar.”

Oh, for God’s sake. “I always check the details before I finish entering.”

Yvonne said nothing for several moments, just continued the devil glare. “This isn’t going to work,” she finally said. “I’ll tell Erin we need a temp, someone who’s dedicated to this task and isn’t flitting around answering phones, doing data entry for accounting, or proofing Dominic’s sales brochures.”

“I
am
dedicated, Yvonne, to this company and to doing the very best job I can.”

Yvonne ignored her. “My mind’s made up. You’re just not good at learning this stuff.”

“If you’ll—”

Yvonne turned her face away and held out her palm in a talk-to-the-hand gesture.

She stared at Yvonne’s hand. This is what Rachel always did:
shut up, tried to please, made nice, knuckled under, did what everyone told her to do. What had it gotten her? She didn’t make enough to support her kids, Nathan hated her, even if he had been reasonable this morning. Gary was stealing the boys, and she’d dumped a man who made her feel better than anyone had in years. Now this—Yvonne ripping this latest opportunity out of her hands for no good reason. Dammit, this was the end of her rope, the straw that broke the camel’s back, and any other cliché she could think of.

She wasn’t going to take it anymore. “I am the mother of two teenage boys,” she said calmly, but with a razor’s edge in her tone. “And when they are failing, I don’t simply look at what
they
are doing wrong, I look at the teacher to see where he or
she
is failing.” She leaned in close, lowered her voice. “Even if it’s me doing the teaching.”

Yvonne narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need to look at your teaching methods in addition to my learning capacity.”

“Well, I never,” Yvonne said, suddenly haughty.

“You’re right, Yvonne, you’ve never taught anyone how to do this. And the way you’re teaching isn’t working.” She waited a second for that to register, but not long enough to allow Yvonne to jump in. “Bree taught me receivables and payables with no problem at all. Orders are just as simple.”

“Order entry is the backbone of all—”

Rachel held her hand in Yvonne’s face. “I’m not finished. I was saying you need to give me the orders, let me enter them on my own, without hovering over me, then check my work and we’ll discuss what, if anything, I did incorrectly. That’s”—she stabbed her chest—“how I learn. I am not stupid.”

“I never said you were.”

“Then give me a chance. I can cover for you while you’re gone, and I can even help you out at month-end when you’re trying
to get everything shipped. You know, this could actually be a very good thing, Yvonne. I’m not trying to steal your job.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Yvonne replied stiffly, but she’d dropped her gaze and was now shuffling papers on the desk.

It was the moment to soften a little. “Let me help out, Yvonne. You won’t be sorry.”

Yvonne’s throat worked as she swallowed. Then the papers were all straightened, and finally Yvonne looked at her from the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry I’ve been hard on you. I just don’t want to have to worry about everything falling apart while I’m gone. I don’t want to come back to a big mess.”

Rachel chose not to resent Yvonne’s sentiments. “I’ll do my very best to make sure everything goes smoothly. Erin and Bree are here to answer any questions I’ve got while you’re away.”

Yvonne nodded. “You can call me, too.” Then, slowly, very slowly, she slid the pile of orders to Rachel. “You go enter these. I’ll check them this afternoon. Next week, I’ll start doing some of the order-taking on speakerphone so you can listen in and learn that part, too.”

Rachel didn’t punch the air in triumph. She simply said, “That would be good. We’ll make this work, Yvonne.”

Later, when Yvonne checked Rachel’s work, there wasn’t a single error. Rachel also took two orders, one from a distributor, another from a performance racing customer.

It was powerful to stick up for yourself. You didn’t necessarily get slammed down.

Rachel thought about that all afternoon. Which meant she couldn’t help thinking about Rand and what he’d said.

Was she giving in because she was afraid to fight, afraid of the consequences? Because really, what
were
the consequences? If she called Gary’s blackmail bluff, she might lose the boys. But if she didn’t, she’d lose them anyway. Two days a month wasn’t enough to be a good mother to them. Even two weekends wasn’t
going to cut it. She couldn’t repair the damage to her relationship with Nathan in two short days a month, and for Justin, that could be the tipping point.
To hell with you, Mom
.

No. Rachel stood up. She hadn’t fought to keep Gary; she’d let him walk away from his responsibilities to her and to their children. She’d let him dictate about Nathan’s driver’s permit and where she’d live and paying half of expenses she didn’t authorize and couldn’t afford. Now she was about to let him dictate when she could see the boys.

No way. He was screwing his little floozy, and she had an equal right to screw whomever she wanted—and make a
personal and private
video of it if she wanted to. Goddammit, Gary could not simply walk into her house and search her drawers.

It was time to stop being a peacemaker and make a stand. If she was going to lose everything anyway, she sure as hell wasn’t going to throw away her self-respect at the same time.

RACHEL MADE THE BOYS DINNER AND LEFT THEM TO DO THEIR
homework. “Nathan, you’re in charge. I have to see your dad. I’ll be back in about an hour.”

“Sure, Mom.”

She looked at him askance. He was pleasant. He was actually
nice
to her. He
smiled
. What was up with that? She didn’t ask because she couldn’t start worrying about one more thing.

“What are you going to see Dad for?” Justin wanted to know.

“Some legal stuff with the divorce.” It wasn’t a lie, and that’s all they needed to know. “By the way, I borrowed your key to your dad’s apartment.” She dug in her purse, handed it back.

Justin held it in the palm of his hand, staring at it. “Why’d you need his key?”

“I had to pick up something of mine that he had,” she said in a tone that brooked no further questions. “Please make sure your homework’s done before you start watching TV.”

Before lunch, she’d slinked up the stairs to Gary’s apartment,
looking over her shoulder like a frightened mouse. This time, she marched up the three flights and knocked loudly.

Gary opened the door still dressed in his white shirt and black pants. No tie. He worked semi-casual. When he saw her, he backed up, and Rachel felt a thrill of power. She’d expected to feel butterflies or nerves or to stutter or
something
, but instead she stepped into his hall and closed the door.

“First of all,” she said, “I am not changing the custody arrangement we have with the boys.” He opened his mouth; she didn’t close hers long enough for him to interrupt. “Second, I want the key to my house.”

“It’s not your house; it’s ours for the time being.”

Leaning forward slightly, she got in his face. “I’m living in it, and you don’t need to have a key.”

“Rachel,” he said, spreading his hands, getting ready for the let’s-be-reasonable speech.

She didn’t let him make it. “Third, I want my video back. You searched my home, went through my personal possessions to find it, and I want it back.”

“Rachel, we’ve already talked about this.”

She stepped closer; he stepped back, stumbling slightly over the edge of the living room carpet.