Christmas Criminal

4. Nick

4

NICK

Monday, December 2nd

I sit at my desk, running my hands over my face as the bell rings and my post-lunch seniors filter in. This class is particularly rowdy this year. Usually after lunch, the kids get a little sleepy and slow, but this year I somehow got the perfect storm in this class. A group of friends who eat lunch together and get themselves all riled up before having to settle down for math.

My energy is running low, mostly because I was up half of last night thinking about a certain criminal in a very inappropriate way.

The look she gave me before she finally got in her car was loaded. Her pink lips were slightly parted, her eyes wide and her breathing heavy. We've gotten to know each other just enough to have rosy views of each other.

I try to be the sort of person who gives the benefit of the doubt, mostly because I work with kids and a lot of times assuming good intentions gets you further than brandishing sharp punishments for the sake of keeping up your authority.

But something about the way Noelle spoke about her family inspired this understanding of her. Like I get her a little bit now.

This town gave her a hard time. Her dad gave her a hard time.

And now, her sister is her safe space. And she will do anything to protect her.

Including turning herself into a criminal.

That fierce defensiveness was something I didn't necessarily expect from her. I knew her dad must have wronged her in some way for her to so vehemently insist that she didn't regret a thing, but to hear that it wasn't a wrong against her, but someone she loved, and she still didn't regret it one bit?

I like her. More than I should.

And I have to somehow squash that, because it's inappropriate for me to be having feelings for someone whose timecard I'm signing.

Even if the whole thing is pretty much a sham.

I don't know how I'm going to do it. She has a good forty hours left, and if I'm reading her correctly, she's into me too.

How the hell am I supposed to spend another forty hours alone with Noelle without completely derailing my boundaries?

I consider asking Hank to chaperone, though I have a feeling that any explanation I give him would encourage him to deny me. He'd probably find the whole thing entertaining, and I don't doubt for a moment that he would relish the opportunity to make fun of me for crushing on the criminal.

I could plan activities for us that are public only. Maybe clean stuff up in the town square, not that it's particularly dirty, or maybe hand out fliers for the Christmas parade or the concert.

But considering the look on her face when she heard the kids would be taking over the school next weekend, I'm not sure she would love that either.

A boisterous laugh fills the room as one of my favorite and least favorite students enters. One of my troublemakers who has a heart of gold but a difficult family life. He acts out because it's the only thing that gets him attention, unfortunately both at home and at school, and considering I have twenty other kids to teach at the same time, I can't give him the individual attention he's craving.

He's overweight and gets bullied because of it, and I can see the way he shrinks into himself when he thinks no one is looking. He sits in the back of the class whenever he has a chance, and although he plays along with the bullies, making fun of himself, I see the way his shoulders drop when they finally turn their attention elsewhere.

He's on another level today. Laughing the loudest, snickering even when the others have stopped. He stands at the front of the room, a bottle of Coke in his hand.

"Hey, hey, want to see what I learned in science class today?" he asks his friends, holding the bottle out in front of him.

"Robbie," I bark. He turns his attention to me. "Sit down."

"I'm showing them a trick," he says, his eyes wide like he thinks he's going to get one past me.

I stand from my chair. I don't fucking need this today. "Robbie. I know the trick, and you're not doing it here. Sit down."

And then he takes a mentos from his pocket and swiftly drops it in the soda.

Coke sprays all over my classroom, soaking me, the kids in the front row, and Robbie.

It's like a faucet.

Kids are screaming, Robbie is laughing, and all I can really do is take the bottle from him and try my hardest to screw the cap on top.

When I finally do, I struggle to control my breath.

My eyes dip to the floor beneath us, now completely covered in soda. To the girls who were sitting in the front row who are now completely doused and screaming. To the kids in back who are only snickering, wide-eyed.

I am surrounded by chaos, and the only thing I can do is point to the door. "Hallway. Now."

As I follow Robbie out, I can already feel the sugar on my skin. My clothes are soaked, as are Robbie's, and in the few steps it takes to leave the room, my shoes start squelching with the stickiness.

Fucking Robbie.

Mrs. Harper next door pokes her head out of her room as we step into the hallway, eyebrows raised. "Everything okay?"

I shake my head. "Any chance you can watch my class for a few minutes? Somebody"–I nod to Robbie–"thought it was a good idea to show the class what he learned in science class today."

She nods, turning back to her class. "Five minutes to finish your reading," she calls out, and then quickly scutters toward my classroom, where the noise level is only growing in my absence and spurred on by the chaos everyone witnessed.

Thank god Mrs. Harper's first post-lunch class is one of the quiet ones.

"Alright!" she shouts, closing the door behind her. "Settle down! Take your seats! I need everyone quiet so I can call the janitor."

I turn to Robbie, who has the decency to look sheepish.

"Robbie," I say, throwing my hands out in front of me. "What was that?"

He shrugs. "I thought it would be cool. It wasn't that messy in science class."

I nod. "I'm more miffed about you not listening to me. I told you not to do the trick and you did it anyway."

He shrugs again, his eyes glued to the floor.

I bite my lip, a mixture of emotions warring inside my brain.

And then a thought occurs to me. A way to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

I let out a long breath. "Well, I'm going to have to give you detention for that."

I've found us a volunteer gig for the Christmas festival that gets set up in the town square every year. They need people to help build the little vendor huts that line the walkways, and although I'm not thrilled about the prospect of manual labor, I'm relieved we have a bigger purpose to support. And a solid itinerary.

When I asked Robbie if he was okay with the change–helping build huts instead of sitting bored in detention–he nodded enthusiastically.He's spent enough time in detention to know being anywhere else is preferable.

We're meeting at the school before walking over together, and I take my usual spot at the front desk once the teacher on bus duty clears out.

Robbie shows up first, raising his eyebrows in lieu of a greeting.

"We're waiting on one other person," I explain.

He nods, leaning against the far side of the desk.

And fifteen minutes later–what seems to be Noelle's usual–she wanders through the front doors toward the desk.

She smiles, nodding quickly to Robbie before turning toward me."Hi."

"Look who made it," I say as I stand.

She glares at me. "Sorry I'm late."

"Noelle, this is Robbie," I say, gesturing to him. "Robbie, Noelle."

She gives a small wave. "Hi."

"Hi."

And then there's silence.

This is going to be an interesting walk.

"Shall we?" I ask, grabbing my coat from the back of my chair and pulling it on.

I gesture for Noelle to lead the way, and Robbie falls into step behind her. She pushes through the front doors, holding one open for Robbie, who then holds it open for me.

"Do you go here?" Robbie asks, as we step down the stairs to the sidewalk. Noelle is in the middle as we turn, following the path that will eventually take us past the football field to the town square on the other side.

Noelle scoffs. "Not anymore. Thank god."

"Noelle is fulfilling a community service requirement," I explain.

"Oh."

And the only sound is that of our feet on the pavement.

"So what did you do?" Robbie asks.

She crinkles her nose. "I threw eggs at my dad's house."

Robbie's laugh is boisterous–as it always is–and Noelle can't seem to resist laughing along with him.

"Why?" he asks.

She shrugs. "He didn't show up for my sister when he really should have. And I got mad and needed to do something, and I went in the fridge for a drink and came out with a carton of eggs instead."

Robbie chuckles again, eyes wide with delight.

"Don't get any ideas," I tell him.

"I mean, it was pretty cathartic to be honest," Noelle says.

I turn to her, giving her my best stern teacher face because the worst possible outcome of this pseudo-punishment would be further trouble.

"But a bad idea," she finishes, her eyes on mine. "A very bad idea. Because now I'm a criminal."

I nod my approval.

"Hmm," he says. "I don't know. Might be worth it to do once."

"No," I say. "It's not."

Noelle waves me off. "Well, wait. Whose house would you egg? Maybe we can get creative. I mean, they might deserve an egging, but we might have options for vengeance that don't land you in community service."

"Hey," I say, drawing their attention to me. "No egging. No vengeance." I pause, making sure my words hit. I'm suddenly worried this was the worst idea I could have concocted. "Today is about undoing past wrongs by contributing positively to the community."

Noelle rolls her eyes. "Okay, what are you, an after-school special?"

Robbie's laughter fills the air once more, and the glare she's giving me crumbles into a smile.

"Can the two of you do me a favor and just behave for the next two hours?" I ask.

Robbie shrugs. Noelle rolls her eyes.

And silence descends upon us once more.

"So in theory, if there was a kid in Snow Falls who was going to egg somebody's house, whose house do you think he would egg? Speaking as a totally objective third-party observer who understands that egging houses and enacting vengeance is wrong."

I throw my hands out in front of me, turning my attention to Noelle.

She brushes her hair behind her ear, her attention on Robbie, and–

She's flipping me off. She's brushing her hair behind her ear with her middle finger, lingering a second longer than she really needs to.

And when she glances back at me, she only grins.

What have I gotten myself into?

Robbie shrugs. "As an objective third-party observer, I would say that a kid in Snow Falls who is definitely not me would probably egg his own house."

I crinkle my eyebrows. Noelle glances at me again. "Why?"

"Because his mom is an asshole who can't even show up to the principal's office when he was waiting for hours to go home and he had to call one of his friends to pick him up instead because by the time everyone realized she wasn't coming, the busses had already left."

I bite my lip. Yeah, she's an asshole.

"Wow, she really is an asshole."

"I agree with the sentiment," I say. "But can we watch the language?"

Noelle turns to me. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"I'm a teacher. I literally have to give a detention if I hear cursing on school grounds."

She shakes her head and glances over her shoulder. "We're not on school grounds anymore. And is 'asshole' even really a curse? I mean, it's not like he called her a fuck-face or something."

I run my hand over my face. "Noelle. Seriously?"

"What are you going to do, give me detention?"

The dare in her voice has a slew of unsavory thoughts running through my mind.

"So your mom is an asshole," Noelle says, turning back to Robbie. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He shrugs. "I'm used to it at this point. I'm just counting down the days until I graduate so I can get out of this stupid town."

She nods. "I hear you. That's what I did. My sister went to college in the city and I followed her. Got my GED and went right to college."

He blinks, quiet for a moment. "How do you get your GED?"

"It's just a test. I think you might be able to take it online now and you can get a diploma from the state."

Goddamnit, Noelle.

"But it's really not the same as getting a high school diploma," I say. "You should stick it out, Robbie."

He nods, seemingly absorbing this.

"I did fine," Noelle insists. "I was able to take classes at the community college and roll them into my degree when I started at Temple."

"That's a different situation," I say, trying desperately to find a middle ground here. "Stay in school, Robbie. You've only got a few months left. I know it sucks now, but it'll be worth it in the end, to graduate with your class and have that diploma that you deserve ."

He nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"There's nothing wrong with knowing your options," Noelle says, as we cross the street to the town square.

"Absolutely nothing wrong with knowing your options, but without a reason to leave high school early, I don't think it's the right way to go. If you have college or technical training for a job, that might be a different story. But don't leave just because you don't like school."

He shrugs noncommittally as we join the group of volunteers congregating by the pagoda. "I don't know what I'm going to do yet," he says.

An irrational discomfort sits in my gut.

The only thing I want right now is for Robbie to say he'll stay in school.

At the front of the group are a few people dressed in neon orange shirts who are picking off small groups and leading them to different areas around the town square. There are a number of groups ahead of us, chatting casually as they wait their turn.

"Hey Robbie, do you mind checking us in when the volunteers get to us?" I ask.

He nods. "Sure."

Noelle raises her eyebrows, and I nod to the street behind us. Thankfully, she follows me without protest.

When we're a good fifty feet from the volunteers, I turn back to her.

"You need to chill with the GED stuff. Don't encourage him to egg houses. And for the love of god, can you please stop cursing in front of him?"

She rolls her eyes. "I had a feeling I was about to get in trouble. You realize he needed to tell someone about his issues with his mom, right? That's what that was about. He's not going to egg his own house. And you do realize that he probably has the mouth of a sailor around his friends. Nothing I'm saying is new to him. And honestly, why is it so bad to get your GED? It's an alternative diploma."

"Noelle"–I make sure she's not going to start spewing words again–"I am his teacher . If you want to be buddy-buddy with him, that's fine. But I can't condone certain behaviors when you're around and then do the opposite in school. Sure, you can make excuses and explain that we were outside school, but that doesn't mean it's not confusing."

She shakes her head. "I don't understand why you're keeping up this farce. It feels so inauthentic."

"I know. I agree." I pause, hoping this lands. "But I'm his teacher . The farce is part of my job."

She's quiet for a second, and then relents. "Okay. I will encourage the kid to stay in school even though in some cases, it's probably more damaging. I will act suitably remorseful about egging my father's house and drone on about how terrible community service is with the stick-up-the-butt math teacher. And I will even censor myself for you. But know that when we're alone, I'm going to let out a string of pent up expletives so long you're going to wonder whether I'm a construction worker or having an orgasm."

I raise an eyebrow. So she's trying to get a reaction out of me.

Too bad for her, I'm plenty experienced at keeping a straight face.

"I've never wondered whether a woman is orgasming before."

Her mouth pops open and she blinks.

"So that's how I get you to stop talking? Good to know."

"I–"

"Come on," I say, nodding behind her to where Robbie is now talking to one of the people in orange shirts. "Looks like we're up."

I turn and head back, Noelle following a moment later.

And while the volunteer walks us along the path and explains that all the directions we should need are in these little packets he hands us, I wonder how the hell I'm going to keep my own mouth shut.

That comment was incredibly inappropriate.

In my defense, she started it.

But I'm supposed to be impervious to little comments like that.

I'm supposed to be a professional , goddamnit.

And instead I'm latching onto her bait and playing into the palm of her pretty little manicured hand.

We finish our hut well within our allotted two hours, mostly because Robbie McGuire is apparently a tank.

There were a few times Noelle and I glanced at each other when he would pick up a piece that was very obviously meant for two people and hoist it above his head like it was nothing. He somehow managed to memorize the directions within a few minutes, and rather than double-checking or trying to figure out what we should do next, Noelle and I both very quickly snapped into waiting mode, letting Robbie direct us.

He seemed excited, almost. Like he got to be the boss and tell everybody else what to do for once.

It was kind of awesome to watch.

As we clear up and get our hut checked over by one of the orange-shirted volunteers, I realize this form of punishment might have actually been perfect for Robbie. Sure, it wasn't the way he planned on spending his night, but he clicked into something he was really good at, and it certainly didn't seem like he hated it.

"I bet you're the kind of kid who likes building Ikea furniture," I say.

He shrugs. "Sometimes my friends ask me to help build stuff and I don't mind it."

"You're a fucking badass," Noelle spouts, a big grin on her face. And then she starts, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, shoot. Sorry. But I think that if I get one more accidental expletive for the night, that one is worth it."

Robbie shrugs, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile.

I roll my eyes. "You did well," I say. "I agree with Noelle's sentiment despite her potty mouth."

She shrugs, grinning again. "I wonder if there's a job that's, like, doing that, but bigger."

"Foreman," Robbie says.

I raise my eyebrows. "Is that what you want to be?"

He shrugs. "I don't know."

"Because I think you'd be good at it."

He glances up at me but doesn't say anything else.

And then the orange-shirted volunteer speaks. "You guys are looking good. Thanks for helping us out today."

"Thanks for having us," I say, nodding.

We gather up our things and the three of us walk back to the school together. Robbie is quiet but he doesn't seem upset. Introspective, maybe. Noelle yawns and stretches, rubbing at a spot on her arm that she knocked when trying to drill one side of the hut together.

She's cute when she's exhausted.

I knock that thought from my head as quickly as it enters.

Robbie calls a friend for a ride as we walk, and when we get back to the school, Noelle and I wait on the stairs out front for his ride to arrive. He stands on the curb, looking out over the parking lot like his vigilance might inspire his friend to drive faster.

"So, same time tomorrow?" I ask Noelle, leaning against the concrete side of the staircase.

She lets out a long breath. "Same time tomorrow," she agrees.

A car careens into the parking lot, music blaring, and comes to a stop in front of Robbie.With a quick wave behind him, he clambers inside and zips off with his buddy.

Noelle stands once he's gone, stifling a yawn in her elbow as she heads toward her car.

As I've taken to doing, I walk with her. I don't know why–this school is a safe place, even at night, but when I think about waving to her over my shoulder and diverting off to my own car, something about it feels completely wrong. Like I'm shirking my duty to make sure everybody here gets to their transportation in one piece.

It must be the teacher in me.

I sigh as we walk, both relieved and nervous about finally being alone with her. She hands me her timecard, and I scribble incoherently across it like I've done every other day.

When I hand it back to her, she gives me a dainty smile with eyes full of warning.

"Fuckity fucking shit stain dickhole twat waffle," she says, catching my eye and grinning.

I blink. Points for creativity. "So that's really been building up, huh?"

She shrugs. "So what's your determination: orgasming or not?"

I purse my lips because I want to laugh.

But I know she's baiting me again.

"Goodnight, Criminal."

She rolls her eyes as she tugs her car door open and slips inside. "Goodnight, Saint Nick."

I wait until all feet and elbows are safely within the car, and close the door on her. She blinks up at me from the other side of the window for a moment, the hint of a smile on her face before she turns the car on.

I take a step back, grasping my hands behind my back while she puts it into gear and slowly drives away, waving over her shoulder as she heads for the road.

Man, I am in over my head with this one.