Two words. An improvement. “Yeah. She called a bunch of times. You told me to tell her you’d text her later.”
He frowned. “How did that happen?”
“When your phone rang, I answered it.”
“You talked to her?”
“Yes, I talked to her. For a while.”
“What did she say?”
Now it was getting fun. She’d said a lot of things, actually. “She told me about that time in high school you and Jake accidentally mooned your math teacher and got suspended.”
Duncan closed his eyes for a second, and I won’t lie: it felt good to get a reaction out of him—any reaction at all.
But not good enough.
Being around a warm, doped-up version of Duncan had been good—and I didn’t even really register how good until that guy was gone. Being around the robotic Duncan just made me want the human version back even more. I’d been unable to stop thinking about him, feeling a glow of affection that had stayed bright all week. Until now.
I missed the other Duncan.
It created a tightness of frustration in my body.
And so I decided to mess with him a little.
“Thank you for all the hugs, by the way.”
Duncan held very still at that idea.
“And thank you,” I went on, “for being so open and honest about your feelings.”
I gave him a second to ponder what feelings, exactly, I might be referring to.
“And thank you for giving me your succulent collection.”
That got his attention. He looked over at me. “Is that—? You took them?”
“For safekeeping. You’ll be pleased to know I haven’t watered them all week.”
Duncan nodded, like he wasn’t sure if he was pleased or not.
“Also,” I added then, “I saw your scars.”
Duncan got very still.
“But you wouldn’t really talk about what happened.”
Duncan nodded. “I never talk about it.”
“Don’t you think maybe you should?”
“Nope.” Then he turned to me and said, “I will never talk about that. Okay?”
“Not with me,” I said. “But maybe with a professional.”
He gave a curt head shake. “Nope. Not my style.”
I tried to make my voice sound pleasant and informational. “I get it. But I need to tell you something. Babette wants you to get into therapy.”
“Babette?”
“She does,” I said. “And she’s very … all-powerful. She doesn’t make a big thing of it, but she’s basically God around here. She owns this school. And she owns the board of directors.”
Duncan waited.
“Everybody thinks that the board passed her over for you. But that’s not what happened. They begged her to come run the place. She just declined.”
“Understandable,” Duncan said, thinking.
“That’s right. Right? Bad timing.”
Duncan nodded. “Very.”
“But she explained something to me the other night that I didn’t know. They wanted her to run the school then, and they still want her to run the school now. And all she has to do is say the word, and you’re out.”
Duncan turned to look straight at me. “What about Kent Buckley?”
“Kent Buckley only thinks he’s in charge. The board is loyal to Babette. They’ll do anything she says.”
“So, what are you saying?”
And here’s where I had to work really hard to be convincing: “I’m saying your job is on the line. And she’s very tempted to fire you. But she won’t … if you agree to some simple terms.”
“What terms?”
“Well, one: She wants you to get into therapy.” I handed over the business card of Babette’s guy.
Duncan took it. Looked down at it. Read it.
Wow. Life sure was easy when you had Babette in your corner.
I nodded. “Two, she wants you to lay off with the changes to the school—for now. Just put all that stuff on the back burner. No more painting things gray.”
Duncan studied me for a second, then let out a breath, and said, “Okay.”
Looking back, it was maybe a little too easy to get him on board.
But at the time, I just thought, Everything in life should go this smoothly.
“And three,” I said, “she wants you to promise that every single day, you will do one thing that she asks you to do.”
“Like what?”
“Probably something small, like eat a bowl of ice cream.”
“Babette wants me to eat a bowl of ice cream?”
“Or do other things. Maybe something bigger.”
“Bigger, like what?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Swim in the ocean, maybe? Go fishing? Play mini-golf?”
Duncan frowned.
“Nothing terrible. She’s not going to ask you to murder anyone or anything.”
Duncan considered it.
“Not to be pushy, but I’m not really sure you have much choice here.”
“Because if I don’t agree to her terms, she’ll fire me?”