Page 28 of Troublemaker: The Big Picture Edition

“Pazzo Gelato is amazing, but I don’t think we’re done with this meeting yet. What else would you like to say, now that you have our full attention, Miss Stiles?”

“Um. I do love gelato, thank you Ryder. But I’m still full from all that birthday cake. And I would like to keep discussing the talking in class issue.”

“Have you been to Pazzo Gelato? It’s close to our house. My dad’s house.”

“I have not. But this is a good example of what sometimes happens in class—Mr. Vega. When I’m discussing something, Ryder will often bring up an unrelated topic—often involving you and food—instead of staying focused on the lesson. Do you know that you sometimes do that, Ryder?”

He makes the most angelic cartoon face, blinking his big brown eyes and pouting. “I know, Miss Ryder. Sorrrryyy.”

“Well, in his defense, there are very few topics in this world that are as interesting as me and food. But are you gonna stop doing that, kid?”

“Yes.”

“I hope so. Because I really don’t want to have to send you to the principal’s office. But it’s important for everyone in this classroom, including me, to remember the rules and to follow them.” She looks at me, pointedly.

“It isn’t always possible or necessary to follow every rule in life, though,” I have to say. “Shouldn’t kids learn how to decide for themselves what’s appropriate in any given situation? As long as their behavior doesn’t hurt anyone—including themselves.”

Her nostrils flare the tiniest bit, and I would bet all my money that she’s squeezing her thighs together inside that tight black skirt of hers. So much tension. So much to work with here.

“Agreed. I’m certainly not interested in breeding a bunch of rule-following robots in my classroom.”

“Good to know.”

“But I myself learned self-discipline when I was in school, and I have my parentsandteachers to thank for that.”

I lock eyes with her, raise my thumb to my lips, and casually suck on the tip of it, savoring the remaining taste of strawberry frosting and the memory of her pouty pink mouth on it before responding. “Didyou, now?”

She squeezes her eyes shut, shakes her head, and turns in her chair so she’s facing Ryder. Her hands are clenched together in her lap now. “Ryder. I just want you and every other student in my class to respect me when I’m giving a lesson. I’m here to teach you, but I need you and every other student to pay attention to me when I’m talking and to focus on the lesson. While your dad is right—we do sometimes have to make a choice about how to behave, regardless of whether or not a rule is official or not—we also have expectations about how to behave in class. And in society. Right? We’ve talked about that since the first day of school. And when we’re in class, we’re expected to do what’s best for the class and for learning. Okay?” She doesn’t look over at me, but I hear her loud and clear.

“Okay,” my son says, watching me.

“Because, the thing is, we all have feelings. But we can’t act on our feelings whenever we want to in life. Right, Mr. Vega?”

“We can definitely wait until the time is right to act on our feelings, Miss Stiles.” I lean forward to give Ryder my full attention. “Are we clear on what Miss Stiles is talking about here, buddy? We know you’re not trying to make it harder for her to teach her class, but can you try harder to wait until the right time to talk to her about whatever you want to talk to her about?”

“How about now? At Pazzo Gelato.”

“I actually have homework to grade and tomorrow’s lessons to prepare, so…” She pushes her chair back and stands up. Her thin white blouse has dried out a bit, but it hardly mattersbecause I have a photographic memory and I have no plans to forget what I’ve seen here today.

“We’ll have to take a rain check on the gelato, buddy. Maybe after dinner tonight. After you’ve finished your homework.”

I stand up, but not until I’m done stroking the skin above my knee through the hole in my jeans. Not because it’s itchy. Because Miss Stiles keeps staring at it.

“Good talk,” I say, reaching out to shake her hand across the table.

She purses her petal pink lips together and places her hand in mine. “Thank you for coming in.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure. I think we all learned a lot here this afternoon.”

She pulls her hand away. “Indeed. See you in the morning, Ryder.” She places her hands on her thighs, bending at the waist until she’s eye level with him and smiling warmly. “Thanks for staying after school to talk to me.”

My son does not hesitate to step in and wrap his arms around her neck, eyes closed and holding her tight.

Well, fuck me.

He really likes her.

The delicate way that she hugs him back tells me that she’s really fond of him too.