The Suicide Club. Gayle Wilson
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The comment came out of the blue during the last seconds before the tardy bell for second period. Lindsey looked up to see who’d made it, but half the class was sniggering.
The masculine half, she realized. And the voice that had made that announcement had definitely belonged to one of them.
“Ms. Sloan! Have you been keeping secrets from us?”
Renee Bingham was the prototype for the American cheerleader. Blond, blue-eyed, and slightly buxom, she was also enormously popular. And one of the nicest people Lindsey had ever known. No matter where someone ranked on the school’s rigidly established social ladder, Renee was friendly to them.
That same friendliness extended to her teachers, whom she was apt to treat with a familiarity that had nothing to do with disrespect. Since Lindsey was aware the girl’s taste in literature ran to supermarket celebrity magazines, she knew any gossip pertaining to a teacher’s love life would be irresistible.
She was grateful when the tardy bell sounded, bringing the last few stragglers to their desks as well as giving her an excuse to ignore Renee’s question. She opened her grade book, willing the telltale flush in her cheeks to subside.
“Paul Abbott.”
“Here.”
“Ms. Sloan, you aren’t just gonna call roll and not tell us.” Renee’s tone was indignant, as if an injustice had been done, to her and the class.
“Tell you what, Renee?”
“About your boyfriend.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend. And if I did, that would hardly be something I’d discuss with y’all.”
“He’s the new detective in the sheriff’s office. From somewhere up north.”
Lindsey was surprised that Steven Byrd had been the one to share that information. He seemed to have little use for the rumors that ran rampant in the high school—who was dating whom, which couple was breaking up, which was reconciling.
“When I first saw them together,” Steven continued, his eyes shining mischievously behind his glasses, just as they had when he’d seen her and Jace that morning in the office, “I thought Ms. Sloan was in trouble with the law. Lucky for her, that wasn’t what the detective was investigating.”
There was a masculine chorus of “ooohs” from the back of the room in response to his slightly suggestive statement. Lindsey could feel the color rising in her cheeks again.
“That’s enough.” Lindsey looked down at her grade book in an attempt to gather her composure. “Leslie Arnold.”
“Here. Is that the guy you were with at the game?”
“I sold tickets at the game,” she said evenly. “I wasn’t with anyone. And I’ll repeat for those of you who don’t seem to get it, my social life isn’t any concern of yours.”
By now she realized she’d bungled this. If she’d made a joke, said something clever, claimed to be smitten, they would have let it drop. Instead, she’d stupidly added fuel to the fire by trying to quash it. Then she’d fanned the flames by letting them see that she was embarrassed by their teasing.
“We’re just glad to know that at your age you can still get a date.” Roy McClain’s comment drew laughter, still good natured, despite her mishandling of the situation.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to rectify that mistake. These were her seniors. She’d taught most of them for the last two years. Their interest in her social life was misplaced, but after all that time together, it was also pretty natural.
“I’m delighted to have relieved your mind about that concern, Roy. You may now consider yourself free to worry about your own social life.” The laughter that greeted her response told her she’d struck the right note. Maybe one that could carry them safely into today’s lesson. “Can we now concentrate on Beowulf rather than me?”
“Is he cute?” Renee’s lips were slightly parted as she looked up at Lindsey from the front row, blue eyes rapt. And she wasn’t referring to the hero of the Anglo-Saxon epic.
“As a little ole bug,” Charlie Higginbotham drawled. Coming out of the mouth of the biggest defensive lineman on the football team, the phrase provoked more laughter.
“I don’t think cute is the right word.” Although Lindsey had pointedly looked down at Renee as she answered, there was another outbreak of catcalls from the guys. “But we’re not going to spend class time discussing what might be.”
“Ms. Sloan, are you sure you want to date some Yankee?” Charlie asked. “Aren’t there enough good ole Alabama rednecks around here to keep you occupied?”
“Y’all were the ones worrying about my social life. I was perfectly content with it. I still am, by the way. So…with your very kind permission, ladies…” She nodded toward Renee. “And gentlemen…” she said to Charlie, who laughed. “I’d like to finish the roll. You should know by now you can only distract me so long before I crack the whip again.”
“He’s into that, is he?” Justin Carr’s question had not been asked in the same teasing tone of the rest.
Even the other students seemed to sense the difference. The mood in the room changed immediately.
One of the brightest kids in her program, Justin had never quite fit in. An Army brat, he must have attended a dozen schools before his father retired here to be near the facilities at Fort Rucker. Justin was respected for his intellect, but he was not well-liked.
“The roll,” Lindsey repeated softly, picking up where she’d left off. Thanks to the inappropriateness of Justin’s remark, this time she was allowed to finish.
Even the discussion of the section of the epic they’d been assigned to read last night went well, although she was aware the entire time that Justin’s eyes were fastened on her face. She ignored him, as she’d ignored his comment, concentrating instead on the elements of the heroic poem she knew would appeal to her teenage audience. Still, she was relieved when the bell rang.
As the other students left the room, Renee approached the lectern. “So how long have you been dating this detective?”
“I’m not. It’s nothing, Renee. Really. He invited me to get something to eat after the ball game. There’s no romance, I swear to you.”
“So…what is he?”
“What?”
“You said cute wasn’t the right word. What is?”
“I’d say the right term is…an acquaintance.” Lindsey emphasized the last word pointedly.
“Ms. Sloan!”
“Go to class, Renee, before you’re tardy again.”
“I’m just next door. What’s his name?”
“James Nolan.”
“James. Oh, that’s nice. Don’t you think so?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Is he?”
“I don’t know yet.” She had thought he was until he’d taken her by the church. In fairness, he’d had a point to make in doing that. One that had been successfully driven home. “Honestly, Renee, you need to move on. Nothing to see here,” she said, repeating the familiar Star Wars phrase her students used to stop discussion.
In a further attempt to end the conversation, Lindsey turned, laying the senior anthology on the corner of her desk. Next period she would have her juniors. The atmosphere would not be as relaxed as it had been this period. Even if any of them had heard about her evening with Jace, they probably wouldn’t have nerve enough to tease her about it.
“When are you going out with him again?”
She