Chapter 6

Six

Good morning, ohana! This week’s rainy weather has brought lots of puddles, and Mr. Can-Do requests students use the doormats and abstain from puddle jumping. As a break from the gloomy weather, Mr. Bell tells me our Lights Festival is coming right along. Mr. Winters has obtained a record number of food vendors for us!

MERRY

As I awaited the dismissal bell along with a class of antsy seventh graders done with sanding Lazy Susans for the day, I tried yet again to not think about Nolan. I could hear strains from the eighth grade choir filtering through my open classroom door, which didn’t help. I wasn’t actively avoiding Nolan, but I wasn’t going out of my way to seek him out after our little food truck outing. The way I saw it, we could do much of our planning via text, and Nolan was far easier to turn down when he wasn’t batting those chocolatey eyes at me or turning all his enthusiasm in my direction.

When he got excited, his pale skin flushed, and he spoke faster and louder, more New York coming out in his accent. He gestured with both hands and bounced around, and hell if I hadn’t wanted to kiss him right there in the middle of the food truck pod when he’d acted like beef fried rice was akin to an oyster appetizer at a fancy steakhouse. I shouldn’t enjoy his presence as much as I did, which was precisely why I’d spent most of the week avoiding him, sticking to lengthy texts about the program for the festival. Keeping it professional was for the best.

Despite not dating, I wasn’t entirely celibate, but it wouldn’t do to go snorkeling in school waters. And speaking of shark-infested waters, we had a faculty meeting after school which meant no more dodging Nolan. And as it turned out, he showed up in my classroom, with the twins in tow, three minutes after the final bell.

Oh crap.

“Hey, there!” I kept my tone bright even as I eyed two very shifty-looking boys who followed Nolan into the room with sorrowful eyes. “Ready for our meeting?”

“I have plans for presenting our plans.” Smiling, Nolan held up a folder bulging with paper-clipped handouts. “But first we need to talk.” Expression turning more serious, he gestured at the boys. “Who would like to explain?”

“Legend…” Groaning, I leaned back in my chair near the front of the room.

“Who says it was my idea?” Legend looked around like there might be a flock of others to take responsibility for whatever the latest prank was.

“What, precisely, was not your idea?” I asked warily.

Legend pursed his lips and didn’t budge, but Ryder approached my desk with a reasonable tone that didn’t fool me for a moment.

“Mr. Bell had a stack of sheet music on the corner of his desk, and someone in first period?—”

“Not you two, naturally.” I gestured at the two of them.

“Of course not.” Ryder chirped like a parrot. “But… someone switched the music for the other classes with alternative Christmas carol lyrics. You know, funny stuff.”

“Funny,” I echoed, having a pretty decent idea of what they would find hilarious.

“Not funny.” Behind the boys, Nolan puffed up like one of the chickens who wandered all over North Shore. “I already have parents complaining about my song choices.”

“Maybe choose less controversial songs?” I suggested, even as I continued eyeing the guilty party.

“This isn’t about my taste.”

“True. This sounds like a case of sabotage.” Rising from my chair, I paced back and forth like a detective in front of my whiteboard. “Hmm. Who in first period might have access to a copy machine before school?”

“It was supposed to be a joke.” Ryder cracked first, as always.

“Hilarious waste of paper resources.” I shook my head, already calculating a trip to the store for a few reams of paper for the staff room. “I see a lot of chores in your future to replenish the supply closet for Principal Alana.”

“Did I hear my name?” The principal herself strolled into the room, and I braced for Nolan to report the twins’ latest transgression.

“Only good things.” Nolan shrugged. He might as well have added a whistle. Nothing to see here. Which I appreciated, but darn it, now I owed him for leaving me to handle the boys instead of another meeting with the principal and a potential write-up.

“Please tell me our resident pranksters aren’t giving you a hard time.” Principal Alana was no match for Nolan’s acting skills.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Nolan shifted his folder to the other hand and offered her his elbow like they were in a production of Mary Poppins. “Let’s head to the meeting, shall we?”

“We shall.” Charmed, Principal Alana let Nolan lead her toward the staff room.

“We’ll discuss your little paper swap more after my meeting.” I glared at both boys. “Might I suggest you work on your presents while I’m in the meeting? That wall hanging for Pop-Pop and Nana won’t paint itself.”

The boys were making a miniature surfboard with hooks for my parents for the holidays, and hopefully, arguing about paint colors would keep them busy.

“We’ll be good.” They looked so angelic I almost believed them. Almost.

As I arrived at the meeting, Nolan was already handing out packets of papers. “I brought handouts for everyone.”

Including me, as this was the first I was seeing said papers, but perhaps if I’d been a bit more diligent in opening Nolan’s attachments, I wouldn’t have been caught off-guard.

“What’s this?” Mark Masters, the band director, husband to Belinda the math teacher and twice as high-strung, waved one of the papers. He’d missed the last meeting because we shared him with the local high school. “The choir is opening? The band always goes first.”

“You’ll have more audience attention in this new order, I promise.” Nolan radiated enthusiasm even while under fire from many directions.

“There’s no play at all?” Belinda was also present, regretfully, and had a red pen out, making notes on Nolan’s proposed program.

“There’s a series of unrelated funny skits, but that makes it easier to follow and offers more parts for everyone.” Nolan gave her an encouraging look, but she didn’t look in the least inclined to budge. “I got buy-in from the various language arts teachers.”

That got several nods, but Belinda wasn’t done. “People come for the play.”

“But we’re not doing that play this year.” Principal Alana was the voice of calm control, as always.

“Pity.” Belinda sniffed.

“The band usually gets three numbers.” Mark continued to busily mark up his copy of the program. “Why do we only have two?”

“You left out one of the dance classes.” Mx. Lennox tapped a long nail on the table.

“My apologies.” Nolan whipped out a black marker to scrawl a bold note at the top of his packet. “Easily rectified.”

“What’s this about a color scheme?” Henry Little, who had to be one of the least imaginative people to ever teach language arts, held up a colorful sheet of paper.

“Ah. Yes. If we base all the classes’ offerings around some common elements, we’ll have more cohesion. I provided the mood board?—”

“A what?” Henry squinted at the page.

“It’s inspiration for you.”

“It’s a lot of blue and silver,” Ken Kehoe countered. “My art students tend to be much more free-spirited in color choices.”

Nolan exhaled hard but didn’t have a chance to reply before Mark was back with a new set of complaints.

“Where are all the light strands coming from?” He tapped another sheet from the handouts. “This looks like a ton of lights.”

And that part was on me. Even scaling back Nolan’s big ideas, we would still need some holiday magic to pull off Nolan’s vision.

“We’ll get some more lights.” I finally spoke up, unable to watch Nolan flounder a second longer. This faculty inquisition made me want to wrap an arm around him and shepherd him from the room. He might be a substitute and only in our school temporarily, but he didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of school politics. And for all they were grandiose and unrealistic, his plans had a certain undeniable energy. I’d given him a hard enough time myself. I didn’t like watching others pile on. “And we’ll obtain the necessary decorating items.”

“Oh? With what extra budget?” Belinda gave another haughty sniff.

“Even with our limited funds, we can still do a lot if we shop carefully.” Somehow, Nolan managed to keep his usual cheer. It was rather admirable, actually, and something unusually protective unfurled in my chest.

“And when are we shopping?” Mark scoffed, adding to his wife’s stream of complaints. “It’s almost Thanksgiving break.”

“I know.” I silenced them with a harsh stare. “Maybe Saturday, Mr. Bell and I could hit the big flea market and some other stops to look for cheap lights and supplies.”

“Well, if you think it’s feasible.” Ken had my back on this, at least.

“It’s feasible,” I said with far more confidence than I felt. “Mr. Bell has worked hard on the plans and the program.”

“Exactly. We should give him a chance.” Principal Alana clapped her hands together. The grateful look Nolan shot me was worth promising away my Saturday. His eyes were wide and soft, and it was difficult to avoid thinking about what else might inspire that expression.

After the meeting, Nolan caught up to me in the hall. “Are we really going shopping on Saturday? Together?”

“We are.” I resisted the urge to clarify that it wasn’t a date. It wasn’t. He knew that. I didn’t need to point it out. However, my pulse kept speeding up like it hadn’t received the memo that this was all about practicality. “The flea market is huge. We wouldn’t want you getting lost in a stack of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts.”

“That sounds kinky.” Nolan laughed, but I didn’t because now I was picturing Nolan shirtless, holding a bottle of chocolate sauce…

And yeah, I really needed to switch off my brain.

“Wear comfortable shoes,” I said instead.

“Are you bringing the boys?”

“Not unless I want to part with all my money.” I laughed, but I was serious. The Honolulu Flea Market was a kid paradise—cheap plastic stuff everywhere, loads of food trucks, and tons of places eager to do business in T-shirts, candy, and more. I’d suggested it because the flea market was an awesome source of cheap Hawaiian-themed decor, but I knew better than to bring the boys. “They have a rock-climbing outing for the outdoor club, and thankfully, this isn’t my week to chaperone.”

“Rock climbing? Like with ropes and stuff?”

“Absolutely. They’ve been rappelling for years now. Swear Legend’s more comfortable in a harness and helmet than in the water, which is saying something.”

“I renew my bid for flying fairies.” Nolan winked at me. “Or maybe elves? Reindeer?”

“No one is flying,” I said firmly, even though my resolve to stay away from Nolan had taken a large flying leap out the window.

“Darn.” Nolan’s wide smile revealed dimples that had otherwise stayed hidden. Damn it. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold on to disliking a guy this cute, cheerful, and persistent.