Chemistry Lessons (6 page)

“—I figured as long as I’m hiring someone, I might as well hire someone
I can help.” As more teachers exited the auditorium, Destry started walking
down the hall.

She followed him. “Alan has a drinking problem. He needs professional
help.”

Destry shrugged. “I may not be a professional, but I can be someone who
cares.”

She couldn’t argue against Alan needing someone who cared. Still, it
was a bad idea to hire him. “That may be a bigger job than you think.”

He was still limping. She had noticed it on the day he came to clean
her chicken pen—the way he dragged one leg made her suspect he had been thrown
by that new horse of his. “Betty’s son is good with horses,” she added.

“I was going to ask you about that. I’ll see if I can hire him as well.”
He stopped to lean against a locker. “You haven’t said how you feel about being
my mentor.”

How she felt? She was disappointed that Tanner didn’t get the job, but
there was nothing she could do about it now. “I’m happy to be your mentor,” she
said, forcing a smile. “It sounds like you already have some teaching
experience, though.”

Destry watched as some teachers passed them by. “I might not need help
with teaching per se, but I have no idea how to navigate the bureaucracy.”

Rosie laughed. “I’m still working on that myself.” The truth was, at
the moment, she felt absolutely crushed by the bureaucracy—the stupid
bureaucracy that allowed Mr. Moore to pass over a qualified teacher like
Tanner.

“And I need help setting up my classroom,” he added.

She thought back to the last time she’d seen Ms. Klein’s classroom. Had
anyone cleaned up all those potted plants she threw at the end of last year? “Was
it . . . dirty?”

“No. There’s just nothing there, except lab tables and a few sinks that
don’t work. Where do I get textbooks?”

 “I should warn you—most of the textbooks are the same ones we used
when I was in school, and they were old then. Did Mr.—err, Phil tell you what
you’d be teaching?”

“Physics, chemistry, and what was the other?” He pulled a paper from
his pocket and unfolded it. “Oh yeah, computer tech.”

Computer tech? She had been looking forward to teaching that class
herself. “So Mr. Moore gave you mostly advanced classes.” She stopped to read
through her schedule. She hadn’t been able to focus on it before. “That must
mean, I have,” she read from her revised schedule, “biology, earth science, and
health.” She stomped her foot. Why hadn’t she checked her schedule before she
told Mr. Moore she was fine with the changes? Health was her least favorite
class, and Mr. Moore knew it.

“That wasn’t what you expected,” he ventured, rubbing at the back of
his neck with one hand.

Jade passed by with the other foreign language teacher. Rosie put on a
happy face and introduced them to Destry. But as soon as they were out of
ear-shot, she groaned. “I hate teaching health.”

“I don’t mind teaching health if you want to trade,” he offered.

The last thing she needed was another talk with Mr. Moore today. She
was already itching to throw a potted plant. “No, I can handle it. I’ve taught
it before.” She pushed back her shoulders and headed down the hall again. “Come
on. I’ll show you where to find the curriculum guidelines online. My classroom’s
just down the hall from yours.”

“I already figured out which one is yours,” he said, limping along
beside her.

“So Phil showed you around?”

“No, I looked through the little windows in the doors. Yours is 107.”
His playful words took the edge off her anger.

 “How’d you know?” she asked.

“The solar system mobile in the corner,” he said, as if that explained
everything.

She and her grandma had made the solar system mobile out of Christmas
ornaments and iridescent paint. There was no way Destry could’ve known it was
hers. He’d just made a lucky guess. “And the fact that it’s the only other
classroom with lab tables,” she said, drawing out her syllables. “That didn’t
give it away at all?”

“Not at all.” He winked, sending a jolt of . . . something through her.

Surely, it wasn’t attraction. She would never be attracted to a guy who
couldn’t even choose the proper footwear. She pulled out her keys as they
turned down the back hallway. There was no reason to feel like she was
betraying Tanner. She and Destry were co-workers. Besides, he wasn’t at all her
type.

Destry followed Rosie into her classroom and paused in front of the
rainforest mural on her back wall—complete with frogs, snakes, a jaguar, and
spider monkeys. “Impressive. Did you paint this? Or was it your students?”

Rosie opened the laptop on her desk. “I tutored a freshman last year,
and her mom painted it to thank me.”

 “You must be some tutor.” He turned to survey the rest of the room. “I
don’t see any aquariums or guinea pig cages.”

“I have enough animals to take care of at home.” She scooted a chair
over beside her desk. “Have a seat.”

He sat down but kept his eyes above the whiteboard, reading the quote
in vinyl letters.
Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried
anything new.
“I had that same quote by Einstein on the wall of my office
in Philadelphia.”

She wondered how many quotes he had on the walls of his office. “You
know Jade Harris, the Spanish teacher we met in the hall? She gave me that for
my birthday last year. It’s my favorite quote.” Turning her laptop for him to
see, she said, “Here’s where you can find the curriculum guidelines.”

He skimmed through a few lesson plans and grimaced. “This doesn’t seem
very inspiring.”

“You can teach it anyway you want—in any order or method, but the tests
are standardized. Whether or not the administration approves is another story.”
Since she’d taught all the classes he was going to teach, she passed him a
thumb drive containing the files for each class. “It might help to look through
my lesson plans. You can keep a copy if you want.”

While Destry paged through her files, she sat down to figure out the
new curriculum for health. Her mind kept going back to the last time she’d
taught health class six years earlier. Janessa Moore had been in that class.
Weighing barely 100 pounds, Janessa was the brown-haired cheerleader who always
got thrown in the air during football games. Like most sophomore girls, she had
a way of hiding her phone under the edge of her desk. She had probably been
texting while Rosie explained that even one drink could put a petite woman over
the legal limit for driving.

It had been thirteen months since the accident—thirteen months since
her grandmother had died. In some ways, it seemed like it’d only been
yesterday. In some ways, it seemed like twenty years ago. Everything was
different now, and it was all because of one bad decision—Janessa’s bad
decision.

Rosie still froze like a frightened squirrel every time she saw a white
pickup truck, the type of vehicle Janessa drove that night. Seeing Janessa
herself was no better. When she waited on them at La Cocina, Rosie couldn’t
bring herself to look at the girl—or speak to her. It was better that way.
Rosie’s anger smoldered like burning embers, ready to break out into a forest
fire at any moment.

And she had every right to be angry. Janessa had suffered no more consequence
than a fifty-dollar ticket, and everyone knew she’d gone straight back to her
old ways. So many of them did. Rosie often wondered if Janessa even remembered
the events of that night.

She couldn’t let Alan make the same mistake as Janessa. She had to say
something to Destry. “If you hire Alan, can you make sure he knows not to come
to work drunk?” There. She’d said it.

Destry furrowed his brows. “I’ll tell him.”

She scrolled blindly through the curriculum website. “I just wouldn’t
want anything to happen while he drove to your place.”

He stared at her. “You’re really worried about this.”

She made an effort to sound calm. “Drunk driving is a big problem
around here. Most people don’t take it seriously enough.”

He reached his hand out, almost touching hers where it lay on the desk.
“I’ll take it seriously.” His deep, even tone made him sound like he meant it. “I
promise.”

She hoped he would. “Thanks.”

Turning back to her work, she tried again to focus on the health
curriculum. She would have to add a lesson plan for suicide prevention and
revamp her plans for healthy eating and exercise. Likely, these students had
heard all the information many times before. She’d have to make it different
somehow.

Destry interrupted her thoughts. “Where do I get my textbooks?”

“They’re down in the supply room. There’s a form to check them out. I’ll
show you how to do it.” She hopped up from her desk, happy to have something
else to occupy her mind.

The supply room was on the other side of the school at the end of the
library. No other teachers were there, which was a good thing. Textbooks
occupied almost every square inch of space inside. Not only did they line six
rows of bookshelves, boxes of them crowded the floor. “I’d hate to be here in
an earthquake,” Rosie remarked.

“I don’t know,” Destry said, pointing to the science books on the shelf
and taking on a flirtatious tone. “If we got trapped, we could learn a little
more about chemistry.”

She laughed, refusing to engage in his banter. “Chemistry’s never been
my strongest subject.”

He reached for a biology book. “I should have guessed—you’re more of a
biologist.”

“I like physics too.” She reached toward an old media cart stacked high
with Ms. Klein’s biology books from last year. “Can you help me move the books
out from in front of this cart?”

Despite his limp, he moved the piles of history textbooks with ease.
Together, they filled out the forms. Afterward, she pushed the cart back to her
room, unloaded it, and returned to the library, expecting to load it up again.
But Destry had already loaded another cart with biology and chemistry texts. “I’ll
trade you,” he said, taking the empty cart from her.

She was just pushing the loaded cart out through the supply room door
when Tanner appeared, startling her.

“Where did you come from?”

He grinned. “I just signed a contract.” He wore his suit, tie, and
cowboy boots.

 “What do you mean, you signed a contract?”

 He held his arms out as if he expected a hug. “The job they offered me
at the middle school last month—I decided to take it.”

She resisted the urge to turn and see whether Destry was watching. That
would only alert Tanner to Destry’s presence, and now was not the time to tell
Tanner who got Ms. Klein’s old job. “I’m so happy for you!” She threw her arms
around him.

He kissed her. “How about we celebrate with lunch out?”

“I’d love to. I just need to finish up with—”

“Go ahead,” Destry said, walking out of the supply room. “I’ll be okay
on my own. As long as there’s no earthquake.”

She swallowed. “Okay. I shouldn’t be gone long.”

Tanner glared at Destry. “We can go ring shopping while we’re at it.”

Destry paged through a chemistry textbook. “Take as long as you want. I’ll
just be here studying up on my high school chemistry.”

She pulled on Tanner’s arm, leading him toward the library exit. “I
only have an hour for lunch,” she said. “That doesn’t leave much time for ring
shopping.”

Tanner lowered his voice. “Don’t tell me
he
got Klein’s job.”

 “He did.” She studied Tanner’s expression, worrying how he would
react. “I’m just as upset as you are about it, but at least the middle school
is close enough that we can still have lunch together every day.”

He held the library door for her. “He was flirting with you.”

Waiting for the door to close behind them, she took on a serious tone. “He
was not.”

“I saw the look on his face, Rosie.”

She took his hand. “That’s just his personality. I’m not interested in
him anyway.” It was time for her to accept Tanner’s proposal—just not here, at
her work place. She’d wait until they got outside.

As they walked down the hall, she told him about her new class
schedule. The fact that she would be teaching health again didn’t seem to faze
him.

“I’ve got seventh and eighth grade science,” he said. “I’m also
coaching the debate team.”

“Debate? I thought the English teachers did that.”

“I was on the debate team that placed first in state when I was a
senior.”

“Oh. I guess I forgot.” She’d been away at college during Tanner’s high
school years. “I’ll have to come to some debates.”

He raised an eyebrow. “If you have time.” He was right. She probably
wouldn’t have time. He opened the front door of the school for her.

“I’ve made up my mind,” she said, stepping out into the hot desert air.
“I want to get married.”

He hugged her, picking her up off her feet and spinning her around. “Whoohoo,”
he yelped, setting her back down on her feet. He dipped his head, and their
lips met. His kiss was smooth and strong with the pleasant taste of mint.

She stepped back, suddenly aware that they stood right in front of
Principal Moore’s office window. Had he seen them? She glanced through the
window to see the principal staring at his computer monitor. Maybe he hadn’t.
Then she noticed the window was open.

Tanner leaned his head in, as if to kiss her again, but she pulled
back. “Principal Moore can hear us,” she whispered.

“Why should we care? Pretty soon the whole world’s going to know we’re
getting married.”

She hurried down the ramp toward the parking lot. “I’ve been meaning to
ask—have you said anything to Grandpa? You know how old fashioned he is. He’ll
probably expect you to ask for my hand and all that before we tell everyone.”

Tanner put his arm around her shoulders and led her to his truck, the
biggest thing in the school parking lot. “I’ll come by and talk to him tonight
after my chores.”

She pulled out her phone. “Speaking of Grandpa, I better check to make
sure he hasn’t called.” There were three missed calls—all from Betty McFerrin’s
number. “Can you believe Betty? Yesterday she called to get Grandma’s recipe
for peach cobbler. I haven’t called her back yet, so she’s called me three
times this morning. Three times!”

He opened the door for her, removed his cowboy hat from the seat, and
threw it into the air. “Seeing as how it’s our special day, I think you’re free
to ignore calls from anyone but Grandpa and me.”

She turned her phone back to silent mode. Tanner was right. This was a
day to celebrate—to focus on spending time with him. She’d looked up the
definition of love the night before. It said, “A tender regard.” That described
her relationship with Tanner perfectly. Maybe she really did love him. She just
had so many hang-ups about her stepdads that she hadn’t seen it before.