Liars' Games (Project Chameleon Book 1) (20 page)

Claire nodded. “I’ll do that.”

“So, when do we want to meet again?” Frank asked.

“Wait a minute,” Nancy said. “Don’t the rest of us have a say?”

“
Sorry, Nancy. Of course you do,” Claire said.

“You think it’s this easy?” Nancy was leaning forward and waving her hands.

Claire frowned. “Oh no, I don’t think it’s easy at all. This will put a strain on all of us. But we live here and good students live here. Is this the way we want our lives and the lives of these kids to be? Our only other choices are to live with the status quo or quit and get jobs elsewhere. But our students have no other choice. Their lives are on the line here, too. No, this will not be easy. Our task will be easier, though, if we follow this, a kind of map. You’re the ones out there, you know the landscape. What we need to do now is get the rest of the faculty involved.”

Nancy was shaking her head, clearly not
sold.

“Look,” Claire said, “
First we need to understand and acknowledge the desired outcomes for the students, staff, parents, community, and school board. Those outcomes need to be analyzed and not regarded as simple. To take an obvious example, the school board wants academic success, sporting success, certain behavioral standards, budgetary outcomes, and absence of detrimental news items.”

“Okay,” Nancy said.

“To accomplish these outcomes, we need systems that work. It’s no good cracking down on gangs if there is nothing to replace them; there is a reason kids are in gangs, one of which is safety. It is no good punishing gang members if there we cannot provide safety. Safety is necessary to create a culture of openness. Students aren’t simply items, they have family and community context needs; school is a factor in their community and vice-versa. In schools where these factors are in proper supply there is no problem. But here, these factors are in short supply. If you want students to learn, you must give them a reason to, and you must make it possible for them. There’s no point teaching Shakespeare without focusing on basic literacy skills, and no point doing either without a sense of the cultural and social contexts of the students and how they relate to the cultural and social contexts of the staff.”

“I think I
am starting to get an inkling of where you’re going,” Nancy said.

Claire said, “Read through the research material I handed out when you have time. You’ll see that this is all interconnected.”

“The ideas make sense,” Bill Wilson said. “But you haven’t demonstrated any expertise in dealing with people. Why should we listen to you?”

“Fair enough. I admit I’m lacking in people skills. But I am an expert in strategic planning. Each of you has strengths, too. I’m asking all of you to combine our skills.”

Bill nodded.

Frank said. “Does anyone have any objections to giving it a shot?”

No one answered. “Okay, then,” Frank said, “we should touch base again on Wednesday, after school. Hopefully, we can plan on a faculty meeting for Friday and, if all goes well, we could hold a school wide assembly on Monday or Tuesday.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CLAIRE SMILED AS she cooked dinner. Today, for the first time since she’d arrived in Denver, something had gone the way she’d hoped at work. She hadn’t flubbed her lines, and she’d won some support, tentative though it was. If they could get the outside help that Frank and Ron had mentioned, she thought, they had a great chance of success. Well, maybe that was stretching it. A good chance.

She
talked with Marcus who was sitting on a chair near the stove, watching her cook. They laughed and played a word game that he loved.

When dinner was served and Marcus began eating, he exclaimed
, “This is my favorite, Mommy. Better than mac and cheese. What’s it called?”

“Lasagna.
And I have a surprise for you. Chocolate ice cream for dessert. We’ll eat it while we watch television.”

“Yay!”

After dinner, she put the last of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and turned it on, then walked into the living room and plopped down on the sofa near where Marcus sat on the floor, playing with toys. Claire watched him for a few minutes, then closed her eyes, relaxing. Steve popped into her head. She missed him, and yet after the meeting today, she’d emailed him about the committee’s plans instead of phoning him as Frank had suggested. It was the coward’s way. But she wasn’t ready to talk to him.

Her mobile rang, and she reached down to the coffee table and picked it up. The caller ID showed Ron Baker.

“Hey, I’ve been talking to some of the teachers about the ideas we discussed earlier today,” Ron said.

“Already? What did you do—call everyone?”
Claire leaned forward.

“No. The Debate team’s advisory meeting was tonight. After the students on the committee left, the rest of us stayed and talked. Looks like Nancy and I talked some more teachers into getting involved.”

“Oh, Ron, that’s great news. Thanks.”

“We did it for the school.”

And not for you. He had to get that in there, didn’t he?

“I also called my friend. You know, the guy who works as a mediator with juveniles who are in trouble. His name’s Shaun Bales. He says he’ll come to our faculty meeting on Friday, and if that goes well, he’ll come to our first assembly. Maybe even speak to the student body if we want him to.”

“That’s wonderful.”

Ron didn’t say anything.

“Are you still there, Ron?”

“Uh, yeah. There is something else I wanted to tell you. This isn’t so good.”

Claire slumped back against the sofa’s back.

“This afternoon three students came to my office while you were in a meeting
with parents. I didn’t get a chance to tell you at the school—it slipped my mind by the time I saw you in our after-school meeting. Anyway, these students reported that on Friday morning someone was at their bus stop, asking students about you. I took down their descriptions of the guy.”

“What? Why would someone do that?”

“Damned if I know. It gets worse. A little while later, Kelly Jacobs, came in and said she was coming back to work after a doctor appointment and she saw a man lurking on the sidewalk in front of the school. The description of him fit the students’ description.”

“What did you do?”

“I ran outside to talk to him. I wanted to know what he was doing. But he’d left.”

“Did you call the police?” She held her breath waiting for his answer.

“Well, no. I didn’t think there was much they could do since he was gone.”

“Why didn’t you come and get me?”

“By then, you were upstairs getting ready for the committee meeting. I figured I would tell you after the meeting. I forgot.”

Claire rolled her eyes.
How could he forget something like that?

“Thanks for calling and letting me know. I’ll watch out for this guy. Can you give me his description?”

After she jotted down the information, Ron said, “Should we call the police? Do you think it’s somehow related to your attack? The gang members aren’t going to give up easily.”

”I know they won’t. Let me think about this before we do anything.”

The moment she hung up, Claire ran to the front window and looked out, but she couldn’t see much. It was dark out. She put on her shoes and coat, unlocked the door, and opened it.

“Where are you going, Mommy?”

She turned around. “Marcus, stay inside. I want to check something.” He nodded, and she went out. She walked to the sidewalk and looked in one direction and then the other. Nothing unusual. No sign of the man Ron had described. She walked back and shut the door behind her. Think. Brad won’t do anything. Would the police do anything? Would she have to tell them she was in witness protection?

She went into the kitchen to find a telephone book
to look up the police department. Maybe she could ask a few questions without actually filing a report.

The doorbell rang, and she looked up, then set down the phonebook down. The bell rang again. She walked into the living room
and found Marcus standing in the open doorway talking to someone. Oh, my God! She’d forgotten to lock the deadbolts.

She lunged forward, grabbed Marcus, and looked up in surprise.

“Mommy, let go. Put me down.” He was kicking and squirming.

“Steve
. What are you doing here,” she said as she released Marcus.

His eyebrows drew together, and he said, “I have a better question. Why didn’t you tell me you have a son?”

She tried to speak, but the words somehow stuck in her throat. She coughed and then said, “I . . . probably should have told you sooner. I . . . .”  She paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t really know why.” 

Marcus, who had been standing next to Claire watching, walked up to Steve. “Who are you?”

“I work with your mother. My name’s Steve. What’s yours?”

“Marcus. Do you wanna see my room?”

Claire put her hands on Marcus’s shoulders. “Not right now, sweetie. Why don’t you go play in your room so Steve and I can talk, all right?”

“Okay.” He hesitated, looking back and forth between them, and then turned and ran
up the stairs.

Steve stood
awkwardly with his hands in his coat pockets. His cheeks were turning pink and Claire could feel an icy chill radiating from him.

She took hold of the door’s edge. Part of her wanted to send him away and close the door. “Do you want to come in?”

Steve didn’t respond. He studied her in silence, a silence that grew steadily more uncomfortable. After a few moments, he took a step forward, and she backed up to make room for him. Once he was inside, she closed the door.

Steve turned to her and said,
“I don’t understand why you kept this from me. I’ve told you all about myself, but you kept this from me. Don’t you think I might have wanted to know that you’re a mother?”

“I
—you’re right, I should have. I didn’t want us to end, and I didn’t know if you liked kids.”

“
Huh? Why the hell would I be an educator if I didn’t like kids? That’s a sorry excuse, Claire. You must have known the right thing to do was tell me.”

“Well, yes, but not at first. I mean, we were only friends at first. Then, I wasn’t sure what we were. I didn’t know when to tell you, or how
, and I was afraid.”

He sighed
and ran his hand through his hair. “Okay. I’ll accept that for now. But then why have you been avoiding me? What the hell did I do wrong? I thought things were going great between us, and then you just pulled away?”

What could she possibly say? Of course he hadn’t done anything wrong. He was great. It was her. She’d had enough trouble keeping her story straight before the attack
. She couldn’t build a relationship on lies. Not one that would be worth anything. Telling him the truth wasn’t an option, either, no matter how much she wanted it to be.

“It wasn’t you. It was me, all right? I’ve been going through some things.”

“At school?”

“Yes.” That wasn’t entirely a lie.

“I got your email about the plan. It sounds great, Claire. That’s one of the reasons I came over here tonight. I think I can help. I can make some phone calls. See if I can find some professionals to assist you and your staff. This could be a pilot program. If it works in Midland, we can use it in other schools.”

She nodded.

“Look, I want to try again with you, Claire. Please don’t keep pushing me away. Will you give ‘us’ a chance?”

He didn’t get it. There couldn’t be an ‘us’. But how could she tell him that without hurting him?

“The timing is all wrong. As I said, it’s not you. Maybe when school’s out for the summer. Right now, I have my hands full. A relationship isn’t in the picture.”

“You don’t think I have my hands full, too? I’m swamped at work. I go home at night, sometimes not getting there until
nine or ten. I miss dinner, or have to eat it in my car on the way to a meeting. That’s life. I don’t see my job getting easier. I have to make time for relationships where I can; otherwise, I’ll put it off until it’s too late.”

She didn’t know how to respond. He was lonely. So was she. But they couldn’t be the ones to fill each other’s need for love and belonging. She wouldn’t be here long enough.

“Claire, don’t push me away. Let’s make time for each other.”

Looking into his eyes, she could feel the weight of his loneliness, the same loneliness she’d been feeling for the past year. How could she say no?
She took a deep breath and let it out. “All right. But you’ll have to be patient. Let me get through these next couple of days at least. It’s going to be very hectic.”

“I can do that. And I’ll make those calls and do what I can to help you and your faculty with your plan for the school.”

“Thanks.”

He stepped closer to her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her. “I should be going.
I was on my way home. Haven’t eaten yet. Say goodbye to Marcus for me.”

“
Okay. Goodnight, Steve.”

She watched him
leave from the front window, then opened the door again, and said, “Wait!”

He turned around and walked back.

“I have some leftovers from dinner. It’s not much—some lasagna and fresh Italian bread. If you’d like, I can heat it up for you.”

He smiled. “
Now that sounds great.”

They talked about her school plans while he ate.
After dinner, she served each of them a bowl of ice cream. Marcus took his into the living room and watched television.

Half an hour later
Marcus ran into the kitchen and said, “Can I show him my room now?”

“
I’m sorry, sweetie, it’s your bed time.”

Steve stood up. “I should be going
anyway. But I’d like to see your room. How about next time, okay, Marcus?”

Marcus nodded and smiled. “
Okay. Bye.”

Claire followed Steve to the
door, they kissed, and said goodnight. When he was out of sight, she closed the blinds and locked the front door and deadbolts. She picked up her mobile phone and called Brad. He didn’t answer. Of course not. His voicemail picked up and she said, “I need to talk to you A.S.A.P. She needed to know what to do, whether she should get the police involved because of the watcher, or whether that would compromise her cover.

GROGGY FROM A restless night’s sleep
, Steve stumbled out of bed on Saturday morning and started a fresh pot of coffee, hoping it would rejuvenate him and get him out the doldrums. While the coffee brewed, he stepped outside on his front porch dressed in a plain white t-shirt and plaid cotton pajama bottoms. He looked around at his neighbors’ houses. No one was in sight. Then he stepped out onto his driveway and picked up his newspaper.

He sipped his coffee and
attempted to read The Denver Post. It normally held his interest, but not this morning. Dinner at Claire’s had been great, and as usual, he’d enjoyed talking with her. He’d gone home tired, and for a change, fairly happy. During the night, however, after waking up several times feeling anxious, he began to question himself. Why did he have to go and fall in love with Claire? He hadn’t realized how he felt until last night. What else would turn a man who prided himself on fairness and objectivity into a complete idiot?

No matter how hard he tried to push his thoughts aside and just read
the newspaper, he couldn’t. Giving up, he let the newspaper fall across his lap, and closed his eyes, remembering his surprise when he’d rung her doorbell and her little boy answered.

H
ow could he have been so clueless? He’d convinced himself that he knew her, and that John Richmond was wrong about her. Although he had planned to ask her about John’s accusation about an affair with the Senator weeks ago, he hadn’t. He’d convinced himself that John had made it all up because he was angry that the Senator had asked them to hire her.

Throughout the day, thoughts intruded on
Steve’s activities. They were there when he took his shower, when he threw a load of laundry in the washer, and while he sat in front of his TV, scanning through the channels with his remote control. When he realized he wasn’t even noticing the scenes passing by, he clicked it off and sat there, slouching and rubbing his temples. This lousy headache that had been sneaking up on him all afternoon was gaining momentum.