Connection (Temptation #6) - K.M. Golland Page 0,8
one on my own. Not that I want a baby. I’m content with the twenty-plus kids I call “mine” every day.
They fill my child-well.
And speaking of those twenty-plus kids now on their way home to spend the weekend with their parents, I can’t help but smile, recalling their responses to a recent task I’d set them while I make myself a cup of tea in the staffroom.
“So, to sum up Emergency Education Month,” I say while jiggling the teabag in my mug. “I asked the kids a partial question, and they had to fill in the blank.” I giggle, nearly choking on my words. “Some of the answers were hilarious. Want to hear?”
Sally—Ms Taylor—leans over the staffroom table and grabs a handful of M&M’s from an open packet. “Yeah, shoot.”
“Okay, so I said, ‘Where there’s smoke, there’s…,’ and I asked them to raise their hands with answers I could write on the brainstorm board.” I squeeze the teabag and dump it into the bin before taking a seat next to Carly. As well as being my roommate, we also work together. That’s how we met. Carls is the “office lady” at school.
She shuffles her seat over a little to make room for me. The only other spare seat is next to Oliver, who’s sitting next to George—Mr Tims—at the opposite end of the table. Oliver and I haven’t really spoken since his fake date, and he’d have to be a few eggs short of a chicken orgy to not know I’m dirty on him.
He smiles, but I ignore it and continue my story.
“Some of their responses were pollution, a smoker, a teepee, a cold morning, burnt toast, a bushfire, and, of course, a fire.”
“Burnt toast?” Brooke—Ms Lewis—laughs. “Oh my God, I love it.”
“I know, right? I tell ya, trying to explain to Jet Bradley that our breath on a cold morning isn’t smoke is like pulling teeth.”
Carly’s phone rings from within her handbag, so she pulls it out, stands up, and walks away for privacy.
“That wouldn’t be the sexy-arse firefighter, would it?” Brooke asks.
Carly’s new squeeze, Derek, was one of the firefighters at our school’s Emergency Education demonstration last month. And not only was he very informative and demonstrative, let’s just say he also set a few fires in many a teacher’s underwear.
Carly doesn’t answer Brooke, instead leaving the room with her phone pressed to her ear. I go to continue my discussion of Emergency Education week, when Oliver takes the now empty seat beside me.
“Hey! You got any plans tonight?”
“Um…” I cup my mug in my hands and bring it to my lips. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
He waits for me to explain what plans I have, but I have fuck all plans so don’t know what to say.
“Because I was thinking—”
“I’m getting my hair cut,” I blurt, setting my mug back down.
His brows pinch just as Carly bursts into the room and says, “Right! Opals… tonight, who’s in?”
We all look up.
“I’m in,” George offers, eagerly.
“You’re too old. You’re not invited.” Carly pokes her tongue out at him. “And anyway, something tells me Mrs T would have your balls for breakfast were you to accompany us tonight.”
George stands and not so subtly covers his package with his hands in a show of protection. “Nobody’s havin’ my balls for breakfast, especially Mrs T. She can have porridge.”
I giggle. I love George.
“Brooke, Sally, you in?” Carly plonks her butt on the table and nearly spills my tea.
I pick it up, finish it off, and stand to take the empty mug to the sink. “I can’t, Carls. Sorry.”
She laughs, and it reminds me of Maleficent. “Ha! You don’t have a choice.”
I spin in her direction. “Says who?”
“Me.”
“Yeah, I’m in.” Sally grabs yet another handful of M&M’s and shovels them into her mouth.
“Sal!” Carly points at the candy-covered chocolate.
Sally has appointed Carly as her don’t-let-me-put-anymore-weight-on marshal, which Carly has taken rather seriously.
Her eyes flame at Sal.
“I’ll work it off tonight on the dance floor,” Sal mumbles as she chews. “I promise.”
“Oh, I know you will.”
“It’s all right for you. You can eat whatever you like and—”
Carls cuts her off like the insensitive, no-bullshit marshal she is and says, “Okay, we’ll taxi it from my joint then.”
Sal glares and sneaks another handful.
“Brooke?” Carly asks.
“I’ll let you know. I have to see what Lance is doin’. If he’s busy, then, yeah, I’m in.”
“No probs. Text me later.” Pushing off the table, she picks up her handbag. “Okay, you ready, Lib?”
“Wouldn’t matter if I weren’t,” I grumble.