Learning Curve. Terry McLaughlin
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only, what, months away?”
Joe shut his eyes. “God.”
“You know how time flies when you’re having fun,” said Anna.
“This isn’t fun.”
“Yin and yang, kid,” said Anna. “Find the right balance, achieve harmony.”
Joe grunted. When it came to Emily Sullivan, his take on yin and yang was probably something a lot more physical than what Anna had in mind.
“It’s getting late,” he said. “Thanks, Anna.”
He said goodbye and disconnected. The sudden silence magnified the emptiness of his dark apartment.
He snatched his empty goblet from the side table and carried it into the kitchen. No more wine tonight. And less wine in the nights to come. He needed to keep a clearer head.
Damn it, he hadn’t asked for a session of self-analysis. He’d been reasonably content with his life before Ms. Emily Sullivan barged into it and started asking all her questions about goals and happiness. Okay, maybe not content, exactly, but resigned. Resignation was a good thing, especially for his mental health. It meant he’d faced his mistakes and learned from them. That he was doing everything in his power to keep from making them again.
Which meant he never should have allowed Ms. Fresh and Lovely Sullivan to step one foot in his classroom door. But there she was. Probing.
Tempting.
He cursed and swung back into the living area, scrambling for control. He was the authority figure here, damn it. What he needed to do was to start acting like it. He’d probably be sore. He hadn’t used those particular muscles for a long, long time.
Better sore than sorry.
From here on out, the honeymoon period was over. Fini. Kaput. He wasn’t going to let her get to him again, to get the upper hand again. He’d take the lead in their conversations.
These first few weeks of her part-time internship were supposed to be an observation phase in her student teaching year—well, she could damn well observe. Nothing more. Let her sit out there with the other students, far away from his desk. Far away from him.
When it was time for the next phase, he’d set up separate discussion groups, separate projects. No need for teamwork. Keep her moving in baby steps, carefully placed. That was the plan. The end of the term would be here before she knew it.
Better still, there might be some way to get rid of her. He’d make a few phone calls, talk to a few people. He’d ease her out, before she realized what was happening. Before she could shake him up like this again.
Before she wormed all the way under his skin and drove him completely over the edge.
There you go, Emily, he thought with a smile. Plans. Short-term and long-term goals, neatly outlined and ready to be implemented.
He walked over to his piano and stared down at the keys. There it was again—the tune that had been teasing through the back of his mind all week. All it needed was a different tempo: lazy, with a touch of the blues.
He stretched one hand over the keys and began to pick out the first few notes of “Animal Crackers in My Soup.”
CHAPTER SIX
ON MONDAY MORNING, Joe watched Emily hunch over her observation post in the back corner of his second-period Current Events class. She was doing an admirable job of ignoring the bright blue Skittle wobbling on top of the radiator a few inches from her elbow.
Her neighbors were having a more difficult time ignoring the results of an incident involving a dangling backpack, an open box of candy and Emily’s swinging foot. Every once in a while someone shifted, and another Skittle scuttled across the room. A discussion on the European economic union couldn’t compete with the subtle soccer matches going on in the aisles.
When the bell rang, she stood with the other students and began her end-of-observation routine: double-checking her schedule in her organizer before closing it, arranging her pens in a predetermined order in the pen compartment of her briefcase, marking her place in her journal before slipping it into its special slot.
She adjusted the strap over her shoulder and turned to leave, but Matt stepped into the aisle, blocking the path from her desk to Joe’s. “Hey, Ms. Sullivan.”
Emily gave him one of her more businesslike smiles. “Hi, Matt.”
Joe turned to wipe his lecture notes off the board and give them both a little privacy. He suspected Matt had a bit of a crush on her. There was a lot of that going around. She’d have to learn to deal with it on her own.
“I heard you’re going to coach the JV girls’ basketball team,” Matt said.
The eraser scudded across the board and flopped on the floor in a little puff of chalk dust. Joe swiveled to scoop it up and caught Emily’s quick, guilty glance.
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