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)
“I think it’s wonderful.” Principal Alana glided over, voice as soothing as ever.
“I simply don’t understand why he’s taken over the courtyard of all places.”
“Because his classroom smells like mildew from the leak we still haven’t found someone to fix. And there’s no denying it was once a storage room with an ambiance to match.”
“Is that Kaitlyn smiling?” Belinda readjusted her papers.
“In a Wicked sort of way, yes.” Principal Alana laughed at her own theater-inspired pun. “I, for one, can’t wait to see the spring showcase.”
“Me too,” I agreed without thinking. But it was the truth. I couldn’t wait to see what Nolan did with the spring concert. And I wanted to be there, to help him, to hear about it, to—
Oh. Dating or not, here or not, I would always want to see what Nolan Bell did next.
And then the literal bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Kids streamed out of the courtyard and down the hall. I stepped toward Nolan as if tugged by the invisible thread that linked us, even over the past few weeks.
“Hey. Um.” I sucked my lower lip, then released it. “That song was pretty incredible. What you’re doing with the eighth graders is… It’s amazing. I just wanted to tell you that.”
“Thanks.” His reply was more curt than expected and he was already striding toward the doors.
“I…uh…you doing okay?” I struggled to match his quick steps.
“Making it through.” He shrugged, but his hurt eyes gave him away. The guy couldn’t lie to me any more than I could to him, a thought that made my chest feel warm. But then Nolan added a small shake of his head, and all that warmth evaporated. “I’d stay and stand around awkwardly some more, but I’ve got a meeting with Principal Alana and the guidance counselor about bringing in a music therapist for a visit.”
“You came up with that idea?” Nolan always impressed the hell out of me, but this sort of initiative was full-time teacher energy.
“Trying to figure out how to help kids like Kaitlyn whose parents are getting divorced. Or Liam K., whose dad deployed. Or Ross, the kid with the sick grandma. They’re all going through something. I want—I need to help.”
“I see that.” I let all my wonder fill my voice. “You’re—”
“Mr. Bell!” Principal Alana chirped from the doorway before I could finish my compliment.
“Gotta run.” And with that, Nolan was gone in a few efficient steps, leaving me dazed. How in the heck was I supposed to get him to listen to me?
Had I waited too long to wake up and accept the good thing in front of me?
Winters Moment. I could hear Grandpa laughing right before saying he’d warned me. However, I was a Winters. We didn’t give up so easily. If Nolan didn’t want to listen, perhaps I’d have to give him a sign he couldn’t refuse.
With a burst of fresh energy, I headed toward my classroom. Ryder and Legend caught up to me near the shop room door.
“Dad!”
“Put your bags over by my desk,” I directed.
“What’s up?” Legend cast a skeptical eye around the room. “Aren’t we headed home?”
“Nope. We’re headed to work.”
Twenty-Nine
Ohana, we truly are one family, and we are so pleased to be able to offer an additional new resource for students. We’ll be having some visits, both classroom and one-on-one, with music therapy students from the university. A huge thank you to Mr. Bell for bringing us this opportunity.
NOLAN
As we arrived at school on Monday morning, the girls were unusually glued to my hip instead of immediately scattering to find their friends. I was about to ask what the deal was, but said friends, along with half the school, were loitering around the choir room. Indeed, I’d never seen my section of the hall so crowded.
“Look, Mr. Bell, look!” Liam K. looked ready to climb the row of lockers as he stepped away from my door.
“What the…?” I’d practiced my dramatic voice and head tilt for any number of auditions. In fact, I considered showing surprise one of my better acting talents, but I’d never delivered a more shocked gasp. Gone was Mrs. Crenshaw’s nameplate, a beige plastic rectangle with white lettering, undoubtedly a holdover from the prior century. In its place was a gleaming wooden gold star. The sort of large sign seen on the Hollywood Walk of Fame or on an old-school dressing room door. Mr. Bell. My name was in a cheery black font, so large one could likely now read it from the opposite end of the hall.
Wood. Perfectly sanded edges. Blocky letters. A prickle raced up my spine. Could it be?
“Mrs. Crenshaw is gonna be pissed.” One of Liam’s friends whistled low. “Replaced her sign with a major upgrade. Ice cold.”
“She’s not coming back, doofus.” Liam gave his friend a good-natured wallop.