Catching Whitney (9 page)

My mind is racing with possible answers, but the only thing I can say is, “Friends. Yes, I’d like that.” My mouth has committed mutiny once again.

Monday morning proves to be relatively uneventful. During lunch, I finish up some grading and then, after wolfing down a yogurt and granola snack, I spend a little time on the playground to observe the children. I’m especially interested in interactions with Caleb. Over dinner the night before, I learned that Rebecca is a family friend and that she stays with them during the week. She cleans, does the shopping, and takes care of Caleb after school and when Aidan has to travel for work. At this time, Aidan hasn’t settled into a specific job, but he’s considering taking on a coaching position at the high school. For now, he’s just volunteering his time and feeling out the work environment. He is also the partial owner of a sports complex that opened over the summer which is why he moved here. Small world.

As for Caleb’s mother, all I know at this point is she passed away when he was only three. Caleb was born premature, which explains his small stature compared to the other kids, and his memories of his mother are faint. Aidan was hesitant to say much in front of his son, so the discussion was cryptic and sort of pieced together in a way that wouldn’t upset Caleb. I’m looking forward to learning more about her from Aidan, once he’s comfortable sharing that kind of information with me. We agreed to start over and give this friendship thing a real try, so I’m having to slap myself mentally every time I think of him. There is just way too much going on in my head where he is concerned.

I watch Caleb approach the swings and quietly wait his turn. Once a swing is vacated, he sits down and begins to rock back and forth until the motion is fluid and smooth. For the first five minutes or so he seems to be enjoying himself, but once a small group of children approaches the swing set, he slows down and decides to walk away. I try to be casual as I position myself a little closer to the children, hoping to hear their conversation.

I realize Kara is front and center of this little faction, and she’s obviously unhappy with Caleb. “Where are you going, cry baby?”

Caleb looks down at his shoes. “Nowhere.”

She grins. “That’s right. You’re going nowhere because you’re a loser, just like your dad.”

Caleb glares at her then. “My dad is not a loser! You take that back!”

I decide I’ve heard enough, and as I walk toward them I hear all the kids in this small mob start singing, “Caleb’s a loser!”

“All right, children, that’ll be quite enough.” I work to keep my tone even, without injecting the anger and hurt I feel over how they are treating him. “No one is a loser, and you all owe Caleb an apology.”

Kara crosses her arms defiantly. “You don’t know, Miss Dawson. You don’t know what his dad is like. He’s an awful person. He lies about other people.”

I manage to catch Caleb just before he decides to lunge in Kara’s direction, his little arms swinging out to hit anything in their path.

“Kara Mathison, I want you to listen to me closely. The same goes for all of you that are standing here. It is never okay to make someone feel bad about themselves. I don’t care what reasons you think you have, acting this way will get you labeled as a bully. Is that what you want? To be a bully?”

Most of the kids display some form of regret on their features, and a few even pat Caleb on the back, saying they are sorry. But Kara and two other boys, Josh and Brent, are adamant in their stance against their classmate.

Kara sticks her little nose in the air. “Now you are making me feel bad about myself, Miss Dawson. Does that make you a bully?”

Her tone and attitude catch me off-guard. Of all the snotty, spoiled children I’ve dealt with, she takes the cake. She’s actually accusing
me
of bullying
her
because I corrected her behavior? Unbelievable.

“No, I’m not bullying you. I’m explaining why it’s not okay to behave in such a way. Now, recess is almost over. Apologize for being unkind, and I don’t ever want to hear this kind of talk from any of you again, do you understand?”

The children nod and mumble their apologies, although, I have a hard time believing Kara is truly sorry for anything she’s said. Her entire demeanor screams that she doesn’t appreciate this exercise in kindness, and she has no intention of backing down. I wave them all away and take Caleb’s hand.

“Hey, buddy. Sorry about that. Sometimes people say things, and they don’t understand how hurtful those words can be.”

His frown was frozen in place. “They don’t know my dad. He’s a good guy, right, Whitney? My dad isn’t a loser or a liar.”

I decide not to correct his use of my first name, even though we are on school property. Right now he’s hurt, and he needs his friend more than his teacher. “Yes, Caleb, your dad is a good man. I’m sure Kara got her wires crossed somewhere.”

Caleb sniffs, and I can see him fighting back tears. “She says we had to move here because no one wanted him in baseball and they made him leave town. She says...” He takes a big gulp of air. “She says he is a thief.”

My jaw drops open. How could she possibly think those things about someone she doesn’t really know? My estimation is that she’s heard adult gossip and is just passing on the rumors. I make a mental note to look into these accusations and get Caleb some clarity and peace once and for all.

Once the day is over, I offer to take Caleb home. I call Aidan to let him know I’m coming.

“Hey, Aidan, I wanted to know if it’d be okay if I brought Caleb home. I thought we could hang out again.” With Caleb at my side, I decide to be vague and fill in the details when he is preoccupied.

“Yeah, that’d be great. I’m running late today, so I won’t be there for another hour or so, but Rebecca is there, so I’ll let her know you’re coming.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

I hang up and smile at Caleb. “Your dad is running a little late, but he said it was fine if I come over. Maybe I can practice killing trolls for a while?”

His crooked smile melts my heart, and it’s all I can do not to bend down and hug him. I take his hand, and we walk to my VW.

“Hey, can you keep a secret, Caleb?” I give him a conspiratorial smile.

“Yes! I’m very good at keeping secrets. Dad says it’s because I’m a good listener, and I have something called empathy. I don’t know what that is, but he says it’s a good thing.”

I chuckle. “Yes, that’s a very good thing. Your dad is a smart guy.” I pull my keys from my purse. “So, my secret. Are you ready?”

He nods his head with enthusiasm, causing his blond curls to bob up and down.

I point to my car. “This car has a name. I call him Sir Bubblebutt or Sir B for short.”

Caleb giggles. “You named your car? And you said butt!”

I open the passenger door. “I did, that’s why it’s a secret. Only special people know his name.”

His smile is wide now, and he’s buckling in as he looks around the interior. “Why did you pick that name?”

“Well, when I first got him, I used to carry a lot of stuff in the trunk, so I started making jokes about having junk in my trunk. The trunk on this car is actually in the front, but I don’t care. I still think it’s funny.”

His eyes become wide. “You named him after that song!”

I gasp in surprise that he gets the joke. I knew I liked this kid. “Yes!”

He laughs and pulls out his cell phone as I start the car. As we pull out of the parking lot, he swipes at the screen and in seconds we are on the road to his house, his phone blaring the song “Baby Got Back”.

Caleb pushes open his front door, still quietly singing about big butts. I’m laughing and slightly mortified that an eight-year-old listens to that song, but I’m also assuming his dad bought the song for him, so I’m not gonna worry about it too much. Caleb probably doesn’t understand all the words yet anyway, thank goodness.

He hollers down the hall as he drops his backpack on the floor in the foyer. “Rebecca! I’m home! I brought a friend!” Then he trots toward the kitchen.

I follow behind and hear him mention wanting a snack. Once we reach the doorway I see the backside of a petite young woman; her straight blonde hair is falling down her back like a bright, luxurious waterfall. She turns and smiles at Caleb, and I notice she has one of those perfect faces and a killer body - the kind prominent on the covers of beauty magazines. The kind you glare at while standing in line to buy Cheetos and Nutella, knowing no matter how much advice is featured inside, you’ll never look like her, Nutella be damned. She notices me then and seems surprised, but she covers it up quickly.

“Well, who is this, Caleb? Is this your friend?” Her accent is thick, and I mentally label her as a southern belle. Her voice is light and lyrical, and I start to imagine birds flying through the windows to land on her shoulders while chipmunks help her sweep the floor.
Nice, Whitney, nothing catty or petty about your thoughts at all here
. I push back my startlingly jealous speculation.

I give her my best smile - the one I reserve for parents I’m trying to appease. “Hello, I’m Whitney Dawson. I’m Caleb’s teacher.”

Caleb has already found the peanut butter and celery snack Rebecca had waiting for him.

While chewing on his first bite, he tries to talk, although it comes out a bit garbled. “She’s also my friend, so when we aren’t at school, we call her Whitney.”

She smiles at him and then directs her attention back to me. “It’s nice to meet you, Whitney. Would you care for a snack? Or maybe a drink?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine for now.”

“Well, just let me know if I can get you anything. It’s always nice to have visitors.” She ruffles Caleb’s hair in an affectionate gesture. “What are you two gonna do this evening?”

Caleb swallows a drink of milk and then looks up at her. “I’ve been teaching her how to play Knight Fighters. We’re gonna play that until Dad gets home.”

She gives me a sidelong glance. “Oh? Sounds fun.” She says nothing else, and I get a distinct feeling that she’s holding something back.

Caleb gulps down last of his celery, then takes my hand to lead me down the hallway. “See ya later, Rebecca!” he tosses over his shoulder as an afterthought. I don’t look back and keep quiet until he has the game set up and hands me a controller. I decide I’m sitting on a chair or the bed today since my back is still protesting from my time on the floor the evening before.
Note to self: start yoga soon.

“Are we fighting more trolls today? Or do I get to fly the dragon yet?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, the dragon doesn’t show up until we beat the wizard.”

“A wizard, huh? That sounds difficult. Is he after the trolls?”

“No, he’s closer to the end. After the trolls, we fight skeletons.”

“Skeletons. An army of bones? No skin or anything?”

“Nope. Just bones.” Then he starts to giggle. “They don’t even have big butts!” He hasn’t sat down yet, so he starts shaking his booty in a funny little dance.

I can’t help but laugh. ”Well, they don’t know what they are missing then. You need a butt to dance like that.”

He laughs some more, and since I’m still standing, I mimic his movements. Now he’s howling with laughter. I know I look like a complete moron, but it’s worth it for this reaction. He swiftly plugs his phone into a speaker on his desk and hits play. Music starts flowing from the small box, and it’s a song I don’t recognize, but has a great beat. Caleb starts bouncing and dancing around the room, so I increase the awfulness of my own dancing.

We jump and bounce and laugh until we are breathless, the he plops down on the bed, and I sit in the chair. He sighs loudly. “That was silly.”

“Yes, it was very silly. But silly is fun sometimes.”

He sits up. “I like silly.” He pauses. “Dad likes silly too.”

The subject of what Aidan likes makes me a bit nervous and more than a little curious. My inner idiot wants to ask what else his father likes, but I shove her in a closet and bar the door. “Well, Dads are supposed to be silly, I think. It’s part of their job description.”

He nods, but I see a hint of sadness begin to creep onto his face. It makes me angry that someone has placed doubt in his head about Aidan. And while I can’t say I know the man well, outside of our intimate knowledge of each other, I have a hard time believing he could possibly be any of the things Kara had said.