Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Let’s get one thing straight.” I waited until Principal Alana had left to glare at Nolan, who sat with perfect posture and a saintly smile.
“I’m not.” He laughed at his own joke. And he would be way easier to take if he weren’t so attractive under his designer wrapping. He had pale skin, stylishly tamed curly dark hair, brown eyes a more golden hue than my own, and a trim, muscular build that spoke to a fair bit of gym time.
“I picked up on that, thanks.” The guncle comment had been pretty damn obvious had my own highly honed gaydar failed me, which it hadn’t.
Nolan gave a regal sniff, his smile finally dipping to be replaced with steely determination. “If you have a problem with me being gay, you might as well get it out there now.”
“I’m pan. I couldn’t care less about who you date or whatever.” I waved a hand. Heck. I still had chalk and paint on my palm. Hazards of shop class. “I have a problem with you being a big-city substitute who doesn’t know the island. You’re going to get these kids’ hopes up for something we don’t have the time or budget for.”
“Wow.” Nolan pretended to recoil at my words. “Say what you really feel. Should we go ahead and schedule a repeat performance of Holly Holliday’s Holiday Surprise now?”
“I’m not saying that.” I’d worked as Dory’s assistant last year and would be happy to never hear another whistling holiday standard played on a recorder or sung off-key. “Dory Crenshaw is cranky and outdated, but she understands island culture. She was born on the island and is married to a Hawaiian. She knows it’s too hot for Santa suit costumes, that every kid needs a part, and how families with diverse cultural and spiritual backgrounds want to feel included.” I looked up from my rant to discover Nolan writing on a classy leather notepad. “Wait. What are you doing?”
I had an excellent working relationship with Principal Alana, but I didn’t need Nolan documenting my beef with him or some such in order to tattle.
“Taking notes.” Expression remaining serene, he held up the notepad which contained a sloppy numbered list complete with stars and relevant underlining. “No Santa suits. Every kid needs a role. Include all families. Ask around about family backgrounds and dynamics to better understand them. What else?”
“Oh.” I hadn’t expected him to be nearly so compliant or willing to hear me out. Alyssa had been gone from the island a good chunk of years, and here I was, still letting my ex drive my bias against rich outsiders. I took a breath and dropped a good chunk of my hostile tone. “The festival is largely outdoors even though this is the rainiest part of the year on Oahu. Prepare for inclement weather. Including winds. We can’t have a lot of lightweight paper items blowing around.”
“I can work with all of this.” Nolan radiated cheery confidence. “And work with you. I’m very familiar with low-budget productions.”
I bristled, unsure whether he was implying I was a low-budget production. My long familiarity with Alyssa’s idea of “bargain” made me wary.
“There’s a huge difference between low-budget Broadway and a public school with a nonexistent budget for extras.”
“We can send out a request to parents for donations—”
“You could.” I held up a hand. Nolan might be a decent uncle, but he was clearly unfamiliar with the stacks of requests for fees and donations parents received daily. “However, most of these kids are from the base and have enlisted parents on tight budgets, or they’re locals being squeezed out by the base and tourists driving the cost of living up. We can’t pressure parents to give more than they have.”
“Point taken.” Nolan gave a sharp nod, and for the first time, I saw the resemblance to his army officer brother, whom I’d met at parent night last year. Like his brother, Nolan could have a formidable presence and decisive tone. “So we’ll make do.”
“Does nothing phase you?” I narrowed my eyes, impressed and irritated that he’d deftly handled all my complaints and warnings.
“I’m a New Yorker. We thrive on chaos.”
Naturally, at that moment, true chaos descended into the small conference room as Ryder and Legend burst in. My sons were sixth graders. I’d spent my first two years teaching at the school and counting down until the boys would be able to attend. But now that we were a few months into the year, the thrill had worn off, leaving behind a daily struggle to balance my role as a dad with my job as a teacher.
A job we very much needed me to keep. I’d left the boys in my classroom with strict instructions to wait for my meeting to wrap up, but clearly, my orders lacked some key element.