Todd brushed his hand above his ear. “Thanks. Miss Green said I look better with less hanging down.”
“And she’s right!” Cal flashed on having seen Bryony early that morning, her hair pulled back with a green ribbon, her respectful response when one of his students had complained about the coffee being too strong. She’d merely apologized and provided a fresh cup, as she should have, deepening his respect for her, and his interest in her.
He sat back and asked, “So, what is it you wanted to talk about?”
“I mostly wanted to check in with you,” Todd said. “How are you doing?”
“I’m good!” Cal answered. “You?”
Todd fidgeted in his chair and cleared his throat before raising his head to make eye contact. “I heard my mom talking to her friend who works in the school office—and this is between you and me—but the principal has been mad at you ever since your dog crashed the Homecoming bonfire celebration. And yesterday he started getting calls about you helping students register to vote.”
The newsflash made Cal bristle, but his irritation had nothing to do with the purveyor of the information, though there were concerns there, too. “Maybe you shouldn’t be telling me about conversations you overhear. Think about the ethics of doing that.”
Last week he had introduced the subject of ethics. This week they had covered ethics in business. Cal liked exploring both the value and challenges of living in a wealthy nation. Who profited? Who suffered? The class discussions were heated, passionate, mind-blowing at times.
“Well,” Todd said. “I wanted to check in and make sure you weren’t going to get fired or something because you’re the best teacher I ever had.”
“No worries,” Cal said. “I haven’t done anything worthy of being fired, and from now on, please honor your parents’ privacy. Anything else I can help you with?”
“Whatever happens,” Todd said, “I want you to remember, overall the people who live in this town are good, but prone to cronyism and gossip.”
“The latter of which you have aptly demonstrated.” The boy’s use of language often caught him off guard. What other talents lay dormant in his young mind?
Todd blushed. “Yeah, I guess so. I should have listened to my grandpa. He always said the way to stay alive is to keep to yourself.” He assumed a voice of authority. “‘Do good quietly, and keep the conversation superficial. We’re doers, not talkers.’”
“But talking is doing,” Cal said. “How can people transcend superficial relationships without talking? That’s why people with hearing loss learn to communicate with their hands. Language connects us.” He opened his desk drawer and dropped two pens into the front well designed to hold less than he collected there. “How have things been for you at home?”
“Better,” Todd said. “I told my mother about not wanting to be a firefighter. She told me not to tell my Dad, and when I graduate, to”—he assumed the authoritative voice again—“‘get the heck out of Dodge. Go east, or go west, young man. You’ll be happier.’” He dropped his shoulders. “The idea of going away makes me sad,” he said in his normal voice. “I don’t want to leave here.”
Cal chose to think Todd’s mother was trying to protect her son. “I’m sure she means well. Have you talked to the school counselor yet? Even if your father is disappointed in your life choices, maybe you can still stay right here, have a good life.”
“I don’t know,” Todd said. “But at least half of my parental load is informed.”
“And good for her for not giving you a hard time.” The reported response by Todd’s mother relieved some of the concern Cal had for Todd, but his father sounded fragile. “Trust yourself to know when and with whom you want to be open, honest, and vulnerable.”
“Oh, and I told Miss Green about my brother, too.”
“Wise choice. What did she say? I mean, how did she respond?” Cal winced at how quickly the questions came out, and at how much they sounded like, Does she like me?
“She was nice. Said she was sorry about what happened.” Todd stood and pushed the chair back into the crooked lines of desks filling most of the room. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything else about you. Oh, wait. Telling you wouldn’t be ethical. If I hear any gossip about you, I’ll keep it to myself.”
“A plus!” Cal said.
Todd strode out of the classroom. Cal sat for five minutes mulling over the implications of the boy’s inappropriate disclosure, then picked up his briefcase, and headed for the hallway.
The door to the office suite was unlocked, though ancillary staff were absent. Cal marched straight to the open door labeled “Principal.” Generally, Mitch seemed to leave the school grounds soon after the students departed, but today he remained at his desk, hunched over a document, pen in one hand, head cradled in the other.
“Mitch?” Cal said as he knocked. “Okay if I come in?”
Mitch looked up, dark circles and bags under his eyes. “What can I do for you, Forster?”
“Um,” Cal started.
Anger had propelled him forward, but now that he had arrived at his destination, his mind worked to sort out a rational way to start what could be a difficult conversation. Was Mitch really still mad about the Bailey incident, or did he see Cal leave the bonfire area with Bryony? And what was that nonsense about voter registrations?
“Just wanted to check in about anything I should be aware of,” he said. “Um, you know, make sure I’m not missing any important deadlines, breaking any codes of conduct.” Or otherwise pissing you off and, if so, why don’t you say it to my face?
Mitch closed his eyes, placed an open palm across his forehead, and massaged from his eyebrows to his hairline three times before answering. “Right now I can’t think of anything but this damned report that’s due tomorrow.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “Hasn’t been a great day.”
Cal waited a beat, his irritation calming further, before asking, “Anything I can do to help?”
“With this?” Mitch dropped his pen on the document. “Not unless you have a time machine and can drum up a few hundred votes for the last election.”
“School levee?” Cal asked.
“People who can’t afford children should not have them,” Mitch said.
“Children are the future of the whole community,” Cal said. “Better funding sources would make sense.”
Mitch raised his eyes, smirked, and flashed a peace sign. “Power to the people.”
Cal took a calming breath and let it out slowly. He’d come to get some straight answers from Mitch about the gossip Todd had relayed, but Mitch was not in the mood for straight talk. Was he ever? Looked like Cal would have to do an end run.
“Anyway”—Mitch looked down at the document—“I’ve got to finish this before I go home, and then I have to dig up a new trivia partner before Friday night.”
“Trivia?” Cal asked, his interest piqued.
Head snapping up, Mitch asked, “You play?”
