Hailey bent down close to Grant’s face. “Do I look like I care where you sit?” she shrugged. “Go sit in someone else’s desk; just get out of mine.”
Misty Munk and Paul Mason walked into the classroom with their books in hand, but, when Misty spotted Grant, she nearly dropped hers. “Have I seen you before?” she gulped. “You seem familiar.”
“I don’t think so; my name’s Grant,” Grant replied as he shook Misty’s hand.
“Oh my gosh…the Grant?” Misty exclaimed as she turned to Hailey.
“No,” Hailey snapped, resisting the urge to stomp on Misty’s foot. “No…no…I don’t have the slightest clue who you’re talking about…this is just Dottie Miller’s grandson…he’s staying with us because his mama is an old friend of my daddy’s.”
“Yeah,” Paul said. “Mama told me she heard Coach’s old gal was back in town. Old flames rekindled…what do you think about that, Hails?”
Grant whispered something under his breath in a language that was either not English or just chocked so full of words Hailey couldn’t define that it sounded foreign. Hailey had no idea what he’d said, and she really didn’t care. For the moment, she decided to dismiss Paul’s rather crude and disingenuous commentary and focus only on making sure that her best friend Misty managed to keep her foot out of her big mouth.
“Coach tells me you play ball, Grant?” Paul said as he took his seat.
“Yeah,” Grant smiled as he extended his hand to Paul. “I’m your new point guard.”
“I see.” Paul shook Grant’s hand as he glanced at Hailey. “Did you hear that?” he chuckled. “He’s our new point guard, Hails.”
“I heard him,” Hailey gulped.
“Okay, class, take your seats,” Mrs. Simmons called as she clapped her hands. Grant shrugged, and, rolling her eyes, Hailey reluctantly slid into the desk beside him. “Quiet, class!” Mrs. Simmons sang out as she walked toward Grant’s desk. “You must be Mr. Cohen,” she smiled. “I heard you would be joining us today, but I see you haven’t been issued a book yet. Why don’t you just share with Miss Nelson. You can scoot your desks together for the time being.”
“Why me?” Hailey sighed, even as she obeyed.
“Class, let’s begin reading chapter fifteen to ourselves,” Mrs. Simmons instructed. “Read quietly, and I will finish recording your grades from last Friday’s test in my grade book, so I can get those on back to you.”
Hailey opened her history book. “What chapter did she say?” she whispered across the aisle to Misty.
“Not the sharpest knife in the drawer are you?” Grant smiled.
“Misty, what chapter?” Hailey whispered again.
“Fifteen, Hailey!” Grant said as he snatched the book from her.
“Thank you,” Hailey huffed as she yanked the book back.
“Sorry, just trying to be of assistance,” Grant shrugged, holding up his hands as he leaned away.
“I’m fairly certain I’m capable of opening this text book without a big, strong man to do it for me,” Hailey rolled her eyes.
“Big and strong, huh?” Grant considered.
“Or, in your case, annoying and obnoxious,” Hailey fired back.
“Shh, Hailey,” Mrs. Simmons scolded, pressing her finger against her own lips for a long, exaggerated moment. “You’re supposed to be reading, not talking.”
“Me?” Hailey grumbled. “He started it!”
“What was that, Miss Nelson?” Mrs. Simmons asked. “You’ll have to speak up; you know my hearing is going.”
“Nothing,” Hailey sighed as she began following her finger along the words on the page as she read.
“What are you doing?” Grant shrugged as he stared at her.
“I’m reading,” Hailey replied.
“Well, your hand is in my way, Darlin’; it ain’t Braille for crying out loud,” Grant snickered.
“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Hailey rolled her eyes.
“If the two of you cannot work together, I’ll be forced to separate you,” Mrs. Simmons warned.
“Please,” Grant nodded.
“Read, children!” Mrs. Simmons pointed.
Grant and Hailey stared at the book, each reading silently. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Grant exclaimed all of a sudden.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Cohen?” Mrs. Simmons asked.
“Isn’t there always,” Hailey rolled her eyes.
“This text is seriously third grade level,” Grant ranted. “The title alone, ‘General Custer: American Hero’, is insulting. We’re eighteen years old, so why don’t they just give it to us straight? I mean, yeah, Custer’s death made him a legend, but he was never really a hero, at least not by my definition.”
“It says he was courageous and confident,” Hailey replied. “And that he defeated…”
“Do you believe everything you read?” Grant shrugged.
