giggled inwardly. Stuart Little had no concept of the power he had over her. God, he was hot. Hotter than he was Monday. Hotter than he was in his twenties. There was a boyish forlornness to him that she yearned to mother in the most unmotherly way. Because she was a pervert. A pervert with a stockpile of lice combs.
“Sure,” she responded, all business. “I’ll just check you with the comb.” She stood up and patted the back of her desk chair. “We shouldn’t need to use conditioner again unless there’s been some hatching action.”
“God, I hope not.” Stuart walked over and sat down. He was trembling for some reason. Goose bumps appeared on his arms. Jesus. This hadn’t happened to him since ninth grade, when he’d had a crush on his math teacher. He’d bombed every test just so he could stay after school for extra help and be alone with her. Then one day in May she wore sandals to school and he discovered she had really gross feet. And just like that, he was over her.
Someone was knocking on her office door. Peaches swiveled Stuart around protectively so that his back was to the intruder. “Come in.”
“Oh, Arnold.” It was Arnold’s mom. She was over six feet tall and was wearing a knee brace. She sighed. “Clumsiness runs in the family.”
Peaches went over and patted Arnold’s shoulder. He was unresponsive. “It’s all right. We enjoy hanging out.”
Arnold’s mom nodded, one skinny eyebrow raised. “Sometimes I think he does it on purpose, just to see you,” she said in a loud whisper, shooting a glance at the back of Stuart’s head.
Get in line, Arnold, Stuart thought. She’s mine.
“Well, that would be sweet,” Peaches said. “But I think he’s just a bruiser. I’ve seen it before. My son was like that in elementary school. He grew so big so fast he had no idea how hard he’d fall or even where his feet were. I thought he’d wind up playing ice hockey or lacrosse. Instead he’s this six-foot, seventeen-year-old math nerd who barely goes outside.”
Nurse Peaches has a teenage son? Stuart stared fixedly at the yellow thumbtack holding up her calendar. The month of September featured a depressed-looking bulldog wearing a red tutu.
“I don’t know how you can possibly have a son in high school—you’re only twenty-five,” Arnold’s mom said. She didn’t seem to care one way or the other though.
“Anyway, I’ll let you get back to…” She glanced at the back of Stuart’s head once more.
“Come on, sweetness.”
She frowned at Arnold’s still form.
“He doesn’t have a concussion again, does he? Liquid diet with a concussion. That’s what our doctor recommends. Chewing and crunching stress the brain.”
Arnold sat up. “I hurt my hands and knees, not my brain,” he protested. “Solid food, please, I’m starving.”
Arnold’s mom clapped her hands together. “He’s alive! Hurry up and get your shoe on. We’ll go to the butcher and pick up some steaks on our way home.”
As soon as they were gone, Peaches spun Stuart around in his chair. He loved it in her office. He’d gone into a sort of restful meditative state, listening to the distant clanking of the cafeteria staff and the rhythmic footfalls of children on the stairs. He could have stayed there all afternoon.
“I think Arnold’s mom is right. They hurt themselves on purpose,” he said, staring straight ahead at Peaches’ pale clavicle.
It wasn’t pale for long. “Ha,” she murmured. A hot, red blush crept up her neck to her face. She was going to molest him. It would be all over the news and she would go to jail. “Now, where were we?”
“Lice check,” Stuart reminded her.
She reached out and ran her fingers through his wavy dark hair, forgetting herself for a moment. “Lice check,” she repeated crazily, and then squatted down to open a filing cabinet and retrieve a comb.
Stuart still couldn’t believe she had a big, high school–age son. Somehow it only made her more attractive. They’d both had their children early. She possibly even earlier than he.
“Actually, that’s not why I’m here. I was pretending,” he admitted. “For Arnold’s sake.”
Peaches stood up so abruptly her spine cracked. “Oh?”
He’d come to seduce her. It was happening. It was really happening!
Her eyes were so blue and bright, the dimples in her cheeks so ridiculously cute, Stuart was caught off guard.
Remaining seated, he walked backward with his feet, rolling the swivel chair away from her a foot or two. He was about to bring up Mandy again.