bite my tongue. Don’t make a fuss. Keep your head down. That’s the whole point of this fresh, shiny new life.
But then one of the hard-eyed Italians lights up a cigar, grinning like he’s daring me to say something, anything.
Consider the camel’s back well and truly broken.
He thinks I won’t say anything. He probably believes my patience is never-ending.
Wrong on both counts.
The cigar smoke billows under the fluorescent lights. Sofiya, who has had a cough recently, throws a pained glance towards the back. She won’t say anything; she’s too nice.
But I’m not. Before I know it, I march over there and stab my finger in his face.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I snap. “Why are you even here if you don’t want to learn? This is a no-smoking building. Just because you want to give yourself cancer, doesn’t mean we all need to go down with you. Put it out or get out.”
He blinks at me, pretending not to understand. But I know for damn sure that he comprehends far more than he’s letting on.
He mutters something to his pals in Italian. They all laugh. Behind me, I hear a chair scrape. I don’t have to look back to know that it’s Lucille, readying herself for war. It’s nice to know that she has my back, but right now, it’s not necessary. I’ve got this.
“Out,” I snarl. “Now.”
The thin man walks back into the class just then. He glances at us, chest-to-chest like wrestlers in a grudge match. His eyes narrow instantly. “What is going on here?” he demands.
I throw my hands up. “Look, I haven’t said anything for the past two weeks, but this is getting ridiculous. He can’t smoke in here. And they need to stop disrupting the class. If they can’t focus, fine, go somewhere else. But I’ve got students here who actually want to learn.”
The vending-machine man dispenses more drawled Italian. More laughter from his pals ensues. Lucille is at my shoulder now.
“The fuck you say, pendejo?” Lucille aims her blood-red fingernails, freshly manicured, at him. They’re like weapons. I wouldn’t want them pointed at me. “If you think you got cojones, spit in English. I’ll make you my lapdog.” She flounders for the words, but I’m quite proud. It seems like anger makes her articulate. “Lick my boot, you will, motherfucker.”
Absurdly, I hear the last in Yoda’s voice: “Lick my boot, you will …”
“Bitch,” the Italian growls. “Mexican bitch.”
“The fuck you—”
The thin man steps forward as Lucille makes to leap at him and the Italian jumps to his feet. More hands stray towards more hips. It’s more of an instinct, I think—at least, I hope; I pray. They’re not really going to start shooting, are they?
I feel myself go cold in anticipation of violence, the way I have many times before. My skin pricks. The air seems thinner.
“Okay, okay.” The thin man steps between us. “There is no need for this. I understand that he has crossed a line, Miss Conway. I also understand that you need some order in your class. Believe it or not, they are learning.”
I swallow a moment of surprise at the perfect, unaccented English flowing flawlessly from his lips, but I choose to take his support instead of asking why the hell he’s in an ESOL class if he already speaks the freaking language.
“I don’t believe it,” I tell him. “Nor do I care. I just want them to stop being disruptive. That’s all.”
The thin man waves a hand at the smoker. He barks something in Italian and, immediately, the man stubs out the cigar. But he takes a vicious pleasure in grinding it into one of my cookies and then tossing both into the trash. Trying to, at least. His aim isn’t as good as his ability to annoy me. They bounce and end up on the floor.
“Pick that up!” I snap.
The thin man shakes his head. “Don’t push your luck,” he mutters. “I think it’s best if you get back to your instruction.”
I stare at them for a long time. A few violent thoughts go through my head, including a vivid image of stiletto heels coming into kissing contact with arrogant Italian balls. But in the end, I know I’ve been backed into a corner. Time to take my minor moral victory and go home.
“If he lights up again,” I say, “I’ll shove it so far up his ass his liver will get lung cancer.”
Lucille snickers and even Sofiya laughs. I make a mental note