Shifting the Night Away (8 page)

Peter decided to use the distraction to make his escape.
 
He gave himself a good shake and traipsed off around the trees, slinking along the shrubs until he found a small stone bridge with a dark underpass to hide in.
 
He knew Charles would make his way to him, scooping up the clothes he’d shed in the process.

"Oh no, he’s leaving," Mia groaned.

"I’m sure he’ll be back," Charles said nonchalantly while he returned to the bench and pretended to play on his cell phone.
 
"Something must be keeping him here."

"Should we call someone?"

"So they can kill him?"
 
Charles called out.
 
"You know that’s what they’ll do."

"He’s right," Jonesy said.
 
"I remember when they had a bear caught up a tree in that New Jersey park.
 
They tried to tranquilize him, but his head bent forward and he suffocated from his own body weight."

"That’s terrible," she said.
 
"Maybe I’ll come out and leave food this week."

"And take him for a walk," Jonesy teased.

She looped her arm through his as they walked away.
 
"This is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in a long time," she said while a smile beamed across her face.

Charles waited for them to get further away before he got up and walked past the thicket.
 
He doubled back and cut through the trees quickly finding Peter’s clothing and then Peter himself.

"What did she say about me?" he asked as he quickly dressed.

"Something about having you neutered and prancing you around the dog park."

"God forbid."

Charles laughed and said, "It was more like ‘this is the most exciting thing’ yadda yadda yadda.
 
She’s going to come back and leave you food, though."

"Aww so sweet."

"Don’t ‘aww so sweet’ you big mush.
 
Use your head.
 
People are still playing in the park.
 
We’re normally here closer to midnight.
 
You’re taking a big risk."

"That’s what I have you for, big guy," Peter said as he patted Charles on the back.

"I know.
 
I’m here for you … pain in my ass."

Chapter Three

Mia floated through the next school day unable to forget about the events of the previous night.
 
She searched the local news for stories about wolf sightings, but found nothing.
 
Had he really escaped from the zoo?
 
Maybe he came from a wealthy billionaire’s private collection on Long Island or some pharmaceutical lab in New Jersey.
 

"Do you know wolves are one of the world’s smartest mammals?" she asked, interrupting composition time.

"You told us already.
 
Wolves and more wolves," the children groaned.
 
"Will this be on the placement exams?"

"No," Mia said with a shrug.
 
"Sometimes you guys are the only people I talk to all day."

"Miss C, you need a boyfriend," said Clara from the front row.
 
Then you would have someone to talk to."

"Thanks for the advice."

"Why don’t you have one yet?" asked Thomas in the back.
 
"You’re a nice lady."

"Thank you, Thomas."

"You can talk to me about wolves if you keep getting older and older and older all by yourself."

"Okay, back to your compositions."

"But—"

"Who wants an F grade?"

They all fell quiet for a few moments before Thomas released a quiet howl, sending the class into a fit of laughter.
 
Mia giggled as well before sharing her own howl.
 
The students joined in for a few moments before the door flew open and a stern glare from Mrs. Campbell meant they were interrupting her class next door.
 
You could hear a collective gulp as any remaining noise was ingested and their heads returned to the notebooks in front of them.
 
As soon as Mrs. Campbell closed the door, Mia and the children exchanged glances and tried their hardest not to start another wave of giggles.

"You’re my pack and I’m getting you into trouble," she said with a wink.

When the school bell rang at the end of the day, Mia assumed her normal position on the basketball courts waiting for each child to be matched up with a parent.
 
Westwood Charter wasn’t plagued by the typical drama found in most schools.
 
Parents fought tooth and nail to reserve a spot for their children, realizing it was the last chance for them to avoid languishing in one of the rougher public schools.
 
The PTA never had a shortage of volunteers.
 
Westwood’s problem was lack of funding for extracurricular activities.

Mia loved her students and wanted them to have every experience and advantage possible.
 
They were curious and energetic, filling her heart in ways she never imagined.
 
Little Thomas’ words echoed in her head as she watched the children run to their parents and excitedly chatter about the day.
 
I am getting older and older and older … all by myself.
 
She sat on the edge of a planter surrounding a small garden the class had planted.
 
Plucking off a tiny tomato, she remembered the excited squeals the children made as they dug their hands in the dirt and gingerly buried each seed in its own earthen home.
 
She popped it into her mouth and marveled at the sweetness, convinced the love shown to the seeds had blossomed through to the happy, red spheres staring up at her.
 
She picked a few more, rolling them around in her palms.
 
The children would be thrilled at their harvest.

"This is Miss Carter.
 
Her class planted the garden with a grant from Green Bean Market."

Mia turned around to see Principal Johnson standing next to the gorgeous man who helped her up from the basketball court the day prior.
 
The man smiled and held out his hand.
 
She jumped up quickly and accidentally crushed one of the tomatoes in her palm.
 
She nervously held out her right hand, now dripping with red juice, but pulled it back and tried the left hand which held a perfectly formed tomato.
 
She jostled them back and forth before announcing, "Gentlemen, I give you the life cycle of the humble cherry tomato."

"Let me help you with that," Peter said as he reached for the un-pulverized orb and placed it in his mouth.
 
His face lit up as the flavor hit his tongue.
 
"Wow, it’s delicious.
 
Special fertilizer?"

"Yes … fifth grade magic.
 
It can’t be bottled."
 
She reached out with her clean palm and grabbed his hand.
 
"Left hand shake.
 
I’m Mia."

"Peter," he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"I remember you from the basketball court."
 

"Yes, I watched you cheat at H-O-R-S-E."

"Guilty."

She tried her hardest not to smile which only made her nose scrunch up in the most adorable way.
 
Peter wanted to lunge and kiss her on that nose, those cheeks, and especially on the full pink lips now distracting his every thought.
 
He wanted to test his newfound theory that her lips were even sweeter than the amazing cherry tomato.

"Speaking of basketball," Principal Johnson interrupted.
 
He was fully aware his presence had faded into the background and nervously cleared his throat, hoping to also clear the sexual tension from the air.
 
"Mr. Zelnick has generously signed on to sponsor our athletics department."

"My basketball team?"

"All the teams," he clarified.
 
"The entire department will have new uniforms and equipment."

"Oh my God!
 
Really?"
 
She turned and grabbed Peter, transferring the remaining tomato juice from her hands to his crisp, white sleeve.
 
"Crud.
 
Sorry.
 
You’re saving my team and I slime you."

Peter laughed and shrugged at the stain.
 
"I deserve that.
 
I sort of hijacked your sweater," he said as he unzipped the satchel hanging from his shoulder and produced the yellow cardigan.
 
"You left it on the court."

Mia’s face lit up as she reached for the garment.
 
"My favorite is back!
 
Thank you so much for returning it.
 
Yellow is my power color."

"Yellow is a power color?
 
Should we incorporate a stripe of it in their new uniforms?"

"That’s probably not a bad idea.
 
My team is fueled more by enthusiasm than skill."

"Well, I’m going to enthusiastically excuse myself and return to my office," Principal Johnson interjected once more.
 
"Thank you again for your support, Mr. Zelnick."

"It’s my pleasure," Peter said as he reached out for another handshake.

"We should have included him in the conversation," Mia said, guiltily watching Principal Johnson march back to his office.
 
"He’s the glue that keeps this place together, but we take him for granted.
 
We need to do something special for him."

"Let’s figure something out …
 
over dinner."

Mia looked up at him and blushed.
 
"Dinner?"

"Yes."

"With me?"

"Yes.
 
We can discuss a gift for Principal Johnson and I have a proposition I want to throw at you."

"Hmm … I’m not sure I like that word
proposition
very much.
 
It can have a rather unsavory connotation attached."

"Oh God, it’s nothing like that," he stammered.
 
"I was just hoping you would pose in some lingerie."

Mia placed her hands on her hips and scrunched her eyebrows together.
 
"That’s supposed to be better?"
 

He smacked his forehead and groaned.
 
"Shit.
 
Fuck.
 
That came out wrong."

"You really are sponsoring the school, right?
 
This isn’t some ploy to work your way through my wardrobe until you steal my intimates and then maybe my soul?"

"No!
 
I mean, yes.
 
Wait, what?
 
Your soul?"

She covered her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle her laughter.
 
"You should see your face right now.
 
I’m just busting your chops.
 
Explain yourself."

He cracked a smile and relaxed his stance.
 
"Yes, I am sponsoring the athletics department.
 
No, I am not interested in stealing your underwear.
 
I own a clothing company and I’m starting a new line for curvy girls and you would be perfect for the campaign."

Mia held up her right hand.
 
"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Excuse me?"

"Just checking your eyesight."

He reached forward and grabbed her hand.
 
"My vision is perfect and you are perfect for the campaign."

"I’m a teacher.
 
I can’t prance around in lingerie."

"So we’ll pick modest pajamas or put you in dresses."

She sighed and bit her lip.
 
"I don’t know about this.
 
Let me think about it."

He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze.
 
"Over dinner?"

"If I’m going to be a model, it’s best I never eat again … ever."

He laughed and said, "Don’t you dare change anything about you.
 
I’m serious.
 
Let’s go to Le Cirque or Jean-Georges."