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My whole body instantly flushes with cold. Most of us teachers respect Virginia for being blunt and no-nonsense, but every once in a while her penchant for cutting straight to the heart of the matter can feel like getting dunked into an ice bath.
I have no idea what to say in response. I didn’t bring the incident to Virginia yet. I was putting that off until the end of the school day. You know, after I supposedly worked up the courage to text Sebastian and set up a timeto get a drink together. So if Virginia already knows, that means the information came in from outside. Most likely, it came in from the café itself. Shit. I should have been the one to tell her this. I should have brought it to her right away instead of going to the café myself like I could solve this on my own.
“Listen, we don’t take an incident like this lightly,” Virginia says. “I wish you’d brought it to my attention immediately.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure exactly what had happened and didn’t want to bring you rumors. It was just classroom chatter. I overheard some kids talking, but they never named the place or anything. I wanted to make sure before I wasted your time or created an incident.”
“I understand,” Virginia says, “but now that we know, I want to stay on top of this.”
My stomach is trying to burrow itself even deeper, but it’s rapidly running out of places to scurry away to. Virginia is taking thisveryseriously. She doesn’t often get herself involved in day-to-day things like this. Usually, it would be my department head or something. The fact that this has gone all the way up the chain so quickly means the school is not messing around.
“What can I do to help?” I say.
“I spoke with the owner of the café today,” Virginia says. “Chloe. Nice woman. Very reasonable. They don’t have any intention of holding us responsible for whathappened. Apparently her and her staff aren’t really all that bothered by the whole thing. They had to clean a window, but it wasn’t actually disruptive or anything.”
That squares with Sebastian’s reaction. Apparently his boss is equally laid back.
“But still,” Virginia says, “I don’t want to set a precedent that we’re okay with this sort of thing going on at the school. I want to make this right and squash it before it gets any legs at all. Do you know who the boys behind it are?”
“I think so,” I say. “They were talking about it vaguely in class yesterday, but it wouldn’t be the first time they’ve gotten themselves in trouble.”
“Are they bad kids?”
“Not really. They’re just … teenage boys. I don’t even think they’re hateful or anything. They’re just stupid and full of hormones.”
That trio of boys can get themselves into trouble sometimes, but they’re not bad kids. They’ve gotten caught on school grounds with a little weed and things like that, but their grades are better than their peers probably realize. Maybe I’m an outlier, but I don’t think teenagers acting like teenagers is a sign of some deep, immutable delinquency.
“Okay, well, here’s what I proposed to Chloe, and I’m proposing it to you now,” Virginia says. “We don’t need to call out the kids by name, but I want to send a message, a lasting message. We aren’t going to tolerate that type oflanguage, and we aren’t going to tolerate a whiff of bigotry. I don’t care what they do or don’t hear at home.
“So I want to make it into a field trip. We have some latitude to organize a small thing, just your class. It’ll be a bit of a rush, but the school year is winding down. We can afford to have a flub day. Use that freak snow day we had back in February. I want you to take them to the café. It’ll be real laid back, just seeing the place, hearing about the business, that kind of thing. But this is also going to be educational, alright? I talked with Chloe about this already. Pride month is coming up, and her business always does something for it. So she’s more than willing to speak on the history of Pride or something like that. It’s not a perfect plan, but I think we can pull it together. And the kids will get to play with the cats while they’re there. But you’ll have to work out the details with Chloe herself. I’ll give you her contact info.”
I grow colder with every word. A field trip to the café? That is not where I thought this was going. It means I’m going to have to confront this whole thing again. I’ll be the focal point of some life lesson about Pride.
On top of all that, I’ll definitely see Sebastian again, won’t I?
I don’t dare to hope he won’t be there when we schedule this field trip. The café is a small operation. They’ll need every staffer they have to deal with twenty-four teenagers invading their space.
Virginia is still talking, going over some of the details, but the ringing in my ears drowns her out. I haven’t even managed to text Sebastian about getting that drink I owe him. How the hell am I going to see him in a professional setting? What if I slip up around him? What if someone picks up on something weird in our interactions?
Okay, slow down, Luke. I’ve met the guy one time. I haven’t even gotten that drink with him. I’m spiraling out when I don’t actually have anything to freak out about. I’m sure he’ll be busy, and so will I. We’ll both be there working. It won’t be a big deal.
Even so, when Virginia leaves me to finish my lunch (as though I can possibly eat now), I look at my phone with utter despair. I have to send the text. I have to get this over with. If I don’t, it’ll be even weirder to see him during the field trip. He might hate me for standing him up, and what if he tries to confront me about it or something?
Before my thoughts can turn even more ridiculous, I snatch up my phone and finally manage to unlock it. I send off a simple, blunt text before I can think about it. Just the name of the bar, the address and a time.
Tomorrow night.
I’ll see him tomorrow night, I’ll get him the drink I owe him, and then all of this will be over. When it’s time to go back for the field trip, I’ll keep my “Mr. Richardson” professional face on, and that will be the last time I ever see Sebastian. He’ll never know that I freaked out over this.He’ll never know what I thought of how he moved, how he looked, that mischief curling his lips. He’ll never know anything about me but my name.
And that’s how I have to keep it.
Chapter Five
Sebastian
THIS HAS GOT TO be the straightest bar I’ve ever been in in my life. I pause inside the door and wait for someone to kick me out. A couple eyes slide toward me, and I can see them coming to the same conclusion I have: I don’t belong here.
I make my feet move across the wooden floor regardless, walking with what I hope passes for confidence. I am a performer, after all; I can fake it if I need to. But I will admit that it’s hard to walk with my usual swagger as I pass little round tables with plastic drink lists on them and neon signs for beer brands and televisions playing baseball. This isnotmy natural habitat.
