enough girl talk. I should get on the road. But remember, if you want to chat, let me know, okay? Here—” Kate took Stacy's cell phone that was on the table and
punched in her number. “I'll put it under 'Hairy Pitter' so you know who it is.”
Stacy gave a couple of laughs. “Okay.”
“Don't stay too late. It's Saturday night, remember?”
A small but genuine smile. “I won't.”
Kate gathered her things again, her eye catching the poster board,
automatically finding Peter's familiar smiling face. Seeing him now less the gawky, cute boy she had known and more the complex man she was discovering.
But maybe too late.
She glanced at Stacy as she left the room. She was busy with her chemistry
experiment. Although now with a slight smile on her face. And she was
humming.
Kate hadn't been just giving her a pep talk. She really was beautiful.
Sometimes you just needed to have someone say it, someone who wasn't your parents or their friend or your teacher.
She left, her footsteps echoed down the empty hall. How many other Stacy's
needed to hear that here? Maybe that was what had kept Peter here all these years. Not just what he could teach in the classroom, but outside of it. So many
Stacy's…
She saw her reflection in the trophy case at the entry of the school and stopped. Basketball, football, track. She squinted. A plaque with the Scholarship
Fair winners of the past years rested on its back near the corner of the case. One row over, eight brass nameplates down. Peter Clark.
Her reflection stared back from the glass.
Stacy seemed to believe her little pep talk. But did she?
Her eye caught another set of reflections in the glass. Down the hall, an open
door, Peter and…Penny Fitch? What was she doing here?
She froze. Penny was laughing (of course), touching Peter's arm, tossing her
perfect jet-black hair. Peter, smiling in return, hands in his pockets, doing his
“aw-shucks” schoolboy pose. Another arm-grab by Penny and she disappeared back into the room, just as Stacy joined her. Homecoming decorations? That was
why Penny was here?
And now Peter was coming her way. She suddenly found the 1969 First
Runner-Up Girls Tennis trophy in front of her very interesting.
* * *
Peter saw Kate standing in the empty hallway, staring at the trophy case. “I see
you met Stacy,” he said, ambling over.
Kate turned, nodding. He couldn't make out her expression. “Yes, she's a very hardworking girl, staying here so late at night. Helping out with the Homecoming decorations.”
His eyes narrowed. Had Stacy told her that? “So, Stacy give you all the dirt
on mean old Mr. Clark, did she?”
Kate nodded. “Some, but probably not all. I heard you're pretty good at ceiling painting.”
“Man, you blow up one bag of hydrogen and you get branded for life.”
“Better than going around all day with wet pants.”
When she moved towards the front entrance, he followed. Great. The wet
pants story. “Well, anyone who said being a teacher is easy is lying.”
“I doubt if anyone who's ever had to teach has ever said that.”
