“I have no idea,” Gabriel admitted. His expression was pained, and Jack was struck by the unfairness of the whole situation. They deserved the right to explore this budding…whatever it was, to seek the possibility of happiness, and it felt like the universe was conspiring against them. “I really don’t…” He sighed and scratched the back of his head in agitation. “Look, first of all, I don’t expect you to lie to Alex, alright? Certainly not for me. I’m…I haven’t told…anyone here yet, but…I’ll be fine whatever happens.”
“I would never out you before you’re ready to do it for yourself,” Jack said quietly. “If I tell Alex, he won’t tell anyone else, I promise.”
“No, I…I know,” Gabriel answered. He was looking at his desk, and Jack saw him draw a deep breath before lifting his gaze. “Jack, I like you,” Gabriel said. “A lot. I think I’ve been…pretty obvious about that. I’d still like to cook you dinner. We can just talk, you know. Take some time to think about it, I know this is…unexpected.”
Jack wanted to have dinner with him. He wanted to do more than have dinner. But he knew that Gabriel was right—he should take his time and consider the facts, and try to sort through his feelings about the turn of events. He wouldn’t do anyone any good by rushing into a decision that he might come to regret down the road.
“I like you, too,” he heard himself say. “You’re right, we need to think about this. You’re Alex’s teacher, and—” He broke off, giving his head a little shake. His thoughts kept turning toward Jeff, and the fact that Jeff and Gabriel had known each other, had been almost friends. Jack didn’t want to think about Jeff. He pushed to his feet with Gabriel’s eyes tracking his movement. “I need to go to this assembly thing with Alex. What is it, again?”
Gabriel cleared his throat. “Yes, I’ll be over there in a few, myself. Some of the drama students and some kids from the basketball teams are giving a presentation on upcoming fundraisers. There will probably be heckling, unfortunately.”
Jack’s eyebrows went up. “Heckling? With their parents here?”
“There’s traditionally some contention between the sports teams and Drama Club,” Gabriel said. “And that’s often fueled by the parents.” He paused, and Jack saw some emotion flit across his features, some hint of pain that was quickly hidden away. “The assembly will be led by our gym teacher—he coaches both boys’ and girls’ basketball teams—Arnie Shafer. I’m sure he’ll keep things in hand.”
“Okay,” Jack said, turning toward the door.
“Jack.”
He hesitated and looked back at the teacher.
“No matter what happens, I…Thank you. For last night,” Gabriel said, and Jack felt a rush of heat at the memory he’d been studiously avoiding. “For making me feel…accepted.” He paused, shook his head, and said, “Wanted, even. Thank you for everything. All of our conversations have meant more to me than you probably realize. Flirting…It might seem like a small thing, but…” He held Jack’s gaze, willing him to understand.
Jack did understand. “I know,” he said, and he saw Gabriel’s expression soften with a touch of relief. “They’ve meant a lot to me, too.” Gabriel could understand that better, now that he knew about Jeff. “I haven’t been interested in anyone since…Jeff…” Jack swallowed with effort and felt his throat click. “We should both take some time to…process, like you said.”
Gabriel nodded.
“I’ll…We’ll talk,” Jack said. Then, before he could give in to the temptation to cross to Gabriel and kiss the sadness from his face, Jack turned and strode from the classroom.
***
Arnie Shafer did not have things in hand. In fact, things had been steadily getting worse for the past ten minutes. The kids were disorganized—three girls from the basketball team held their sign upside down for a full minute before being told by one of the drama students, and one of the drama students had completely forgotten their part of the skit and just stood there for ten awkward seconds before one of the other kids recited the line. Two members of the boys’ basketball team were in an argument behind the teacher, and there had already been several small shoves that, Jack was afraid, were soon going to devolve into an outright brawl.
The audience was showing no mercy, either. Gabriel had predicted hecklers, but the situation was worse than Jack had imagined. He glanced around at the cacophony of boos and inappropriate catcalls. He saw several uncomfortable-looking parents, and a few who were reprimanding their teenagers, but there were a lot more who were simply observing this appalling show of disrespect.
Jack wanted to put an end to it; he wanted to stand up and ask them all what was wrong with them. He looked at Alex, sitting beside him, and saw a look of mingled disgust and helplessness on the kid’s face. Alex’s heart was with his friends, on the gym floor, as they faced down the merciless crowd of their peers and the parents.
“They wouldn’t do this if Mr. Sanderson was here,” Alex muttered. He looked at Jack and said, “He’s the principal.” When Jack nodded, he continued: “He’s a lot scarier than Mr. Shafer.”
Jack didn’t like the idea of his son, or any of the students, thinking of their principal as scary, but he’d never met the man to judge for himself. Jeff had never met him, either. This was Sanderson’s first year at the school, and he was apparently already rubbing a lot of people—including Alex and Gabriel, even if the latter didn’t explicitly say so—the wrong way.
“This is a train-wreck,” Jack said under his breath. “How do we stop this?” He didn’t want to embarrass his son in front of the majority of the high school, but he couldn’t in good conscience sit and watch—someone had just thrown a wadded-up piece of paper, narrowly missing the nervous kid mumbling about the upcoming bake sales.
“Mr. Sanderson shoulda let Mr. S do it like usual,” Alex said.
And suddenly, as though Alex had conjured him, Jack saw Gabriel crossing the floor of the gym. A paper airplane whispered over Jack’s shoulder, sailing toward the gym teacher’s head. Striding across the floor, Gabriel reached out, snagging the plane from the air before it could reach its target.
“Mr. Young, Mr. Forrest,” he said, addressing the two bickering basketball players. “Do me a favor and grab a couple of balls, yeah?” he asked, nodding his head toward the rack of basketballs against the wall. Gabriel didn’t seem to care about the snickers and giggles that greeted his choice of words; he was doing something to the paper plane while he spoke—his fingers were working at the paper, modifying the wings.
“Last time Carter threw stuff at an assembly, Mr. Sanderson made him stand on the floor and had everyone throw wadded-up papers at him,” Alex told Jack quietly.
“Not bad, Mr. Johnson,” Gabriel said, looking up at the bleachers. Carter Johnson was a few benches behind Jack and Alex. Gabriel raised the plane to shoulder-level and tossed it with a sharp flick of his wrist.
You’ll put someone’s eye out, Jack thought, but the plane flew straight past him—he turned in time to see Carter catch it, looking surprised. Nice throw, Jack thought, turning his attention back to Gabriel.
“I’ll give you five bucks if you can get three of those to land between the free-throw line and the top of the key, from there. In—” Gabriel glanced at his watch, “—four minutes.” The teacher turned toward Chris Forrest and held up his hands. Chris threw him a ball. “If you would, stand here,” Gabriel told the kid, pointing at the floor beside himself. “And Mr. Young, on that line, thank you.” Once Zak Young was in position, Gabriel said, “Pass me the ball with a single bounce.”
Zak looked confused, and glanced at Arnie Shafer, but he did as instructed. As soon as the ball had bounced off the floor, Gabriel passed his own ball. Zak caught it, surprised.
Gabriel, holding Zak’s basketball, said, “Good. This time, as soon as you catch this one, pass it back. And listen.” He made a gesture, and Zak bounced him the ball, caught Gabriel’s, and passed it, as well. Gabriel kept going—catching, bouncing, catching, bouncin
g, and so did Zak. After a few more passes, Gabriel said, “Mr. Forrest,” and gestured with his chin. He stepped out of the way, and Chris stepped into his place just in time to catch the incoming ball and toss it back. “Keep the beat, boys,” Gabriel said. “Hear it?”
Jack could hear it, the rhythmic double-bounce. The two teenagers were glaring at each other, but they were cooperating for the moment. Jack wasn’t sure what to expect, though—he glanced around at some of the parents and students and noticed that, thankfully, the heckling had stopped.
Gabriel looked at the few drama students on the floor with him and raised his eyebrows. He started clapping, a beat that fell after the second basketball bounce in each round, and the drama students immediately picked up his beat. Jack leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, unable to take his eyes from—well, whatever was happening on the gym floor.
Gabriel, still clapping, looked at the audience and started chanting; Jack didn’t immediately understand what was going on, not until Gabriel stopped, raising his chin and eyebrows, and the audience—including Alex, with a smile on his face—shouted back the next line. It was the school’s rally song, Jack realized, and he felt simultaneously guilty for not knowing it, and impressed by Gabriel’s ability to get almost the entire gymnasium to participate within the span of a minute.
The audience began to stomp in the bleachers, and Jack straightened on the bench as it vibrated beneath him. Bounce, bounce, clap, stomp, bounce, bounce, clap, stomp. Jack didn’t know the words, but he started stamping his foot along with Alex and the rest of the audience, his gaze still fixed on Gabriel.
When the chant ended, there was a round of cheers and whistles, but Gabriel twirled his hand in the air toward Chris and Zak, silently telling them to keep up the beat.
“Now that we’re all reminded why we’re here,” Gabriel said, “let’s keep the sense of school pride going, yeah? Bake sales, Mr. Thompson, and go.” He pointed at the boy in question, with an encouraging smile, and Bucky Thompson read off information he’d previously been trying to stammer his way through. His words fell into the beat of the balls, and Jack knew, even before Alex spoke beside him, that this was a tactic with which Gabriel’s students were familiar.
“Improv tricks,” Alex said, leaning toward Jack. He gestured with his chin. “Mr. S has the Drama Club doing improv all the time—almost as much as learning actual lines. He says one of the most important things is knowing what to do when everything goes to shit.” Alex glanced at Jack with a sheepish smile. “His words,” he added, although he knew that Jack wouldn’t reprimand him for bad language.
Jack nodded, but absently. He was absolutely mesmerized by Gabriel, who was moving around the floor with impressive energy, commanding the group of students—and the gym teacher, whom Gabriel had pulled into the routine by putting him in charge of clapping—with ease. Jack barely heard the words being recited about fundraisers and talent shows and a Christmas pageant, the need for parental volunteers at concession stands and as chaperones for upcoming field trips; all of his attention was focused on Gabriel, and a single thought rose into Jack’s mind.
I could actually fall in love with him.
He felt a rush of guilt and panic that completely blindsided him, and he sat frozen, scarcely able to breathe. No, he thought. I barely know him. I want to sleep with him, yes, but—
Jack closed his eyes, pulling in a breath through his nose. His hands were fisted on his thighs, and all of the noise of the assembly had faded into a meaningless buzz.
Now that I have you, I’m never letting—
No, he thought, giving his head a shake to dislodge the thought before it could sink in its claws. Not now, no, I can’t do this.
“You okay?” Alex asked.
Jack opened his eyes and forced a smile. “Yeah,” he said. “Headache,” he added, which wasn’t a lie. His temples were thudding. He forced his hands to relax on his thighs.
“Mr. Johnson?” Gabriel asked, and Jack realized that the teacher was looking up at Carter. For a moment, Gabriel’s gaze slipped downward and found Jack’s, and Jack felt the fear trying to swell up within him. He tamped it down, refusing to give it a chance to breathe. Gabriel’s eyes shifted back to the student behind Jack.
The first paper airplane sailed over Jack’s head, past Gabriel, between Zak Young and Chris Forrest—they were each standing, holding a basketball propped against a hip, and Jack hadn’t even realized that the beat had stopped—and landed in the middle of the designated area, sliding to a halt.
The audience cheered, and Gabriel smiled up at Carter, holding up a finger. After a moment, a second airplane soared toward the people assembled on the floor, and one of the students ducked out of the way. The plane landed directly on the free-throw line.
Several people whistled, and Gabriel, after looking over his shoulder to determine the validity of the throw, mimed wiping sweat from his brow and grinned up at Carter. He held up two fingers.
The third plane missed the key by nearly two feet, and the audience groaned. Gabriel held up a hand and they immediately grew quiet. He turned and gestured for Bucky Thompson, speaking quietly, and Bucky quickly fetched the stray plane and jogged to the bleachers with it. He handed it to Alex, who turned and passed it to Carter.
“Even up the wings, Mr. Johnson,” Gabriel said, holding a hand out, palm-down, and wobbling it in the air for demonstration.
“He never said three in a row,” Alex told Jack with a little laugh.
Jack wondered what would happen if the plane missed its target again. How many chances was Gabriel prepared to give? Jack needed to get out of the gym, out of the school, and away from the possibility of those green eyes once more finding his gaze. Jack needed time to think, and he couldn’t do that—not clearly, anyway—while Gabriel was in front of him.
He didn’t need to worry; the plane landed perfectly, and Jack had enough presence of mind to be impressed by Carter’s skills at both modeling and throwing. That was the point, of course. Gabriel never would’ve assigned the boy an impossible challenge. He’d known that Carter could, and would, win the wager.
“Thank you all for coming,” Gabriel was saying. “Thank you to Mr. Shafer for organizing this, and for the flyers—make sure you each grab one on your way out, all of the events outlined by these talented young men and women are listed by date and you can find more information—or sign up as a volunteer, and please do—on the website. Have a lovely weekend everyone.”
As the parents and students started making their way down the bleachers and out of the gym, Jack watched Gabriel shaking hands and exchanging easy pleasantries with everyone who approached him. He saw Gabriel and the gym teacher shake hands, saw Arnie Shafer lean forward and say something into his ear, saw Gabriel shake his head in response and clap him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture.
Jack wanted to make a quick escape, but as soon as he and Alex stepped down onto the gym floor, Alex headed toward Gabriel. Jack hesitated, hanging back.
“Mr. Santiaaaaago,” Carter Johnson called, passing Jack. “Where’s my money, bro?”
Gabriel was prepared, and held up a hand with a folded five dollar bill between his first two fingers.
To Jack’s surprise, Carter laughed and said, “Nah, keep it, man, you cheated and gave me a extra shot.”
“A shot limit was never established,” Gabriel said, holding out the money until Carter took it. “Good job, Carter,” he said. “I expect you’ll show more respect next time, though. It’s not easy to stand up here in front of everyone, as you know.” He didn’t say the rest, and he didn’t need to. Carter’s expression was solemn, now, and he nodded. Jack thought about what Alex had said—that the principal had instructed the students to throw wads of paper at Carter as punishment.
“Sorry, Mr. Shafer,” Carter apologized, unprompted. He glanced around at the gathered students who’d been tasked with delivering the presentation. “Sorry, guys,” he added.
Jack saw a woman walki
ng into the group, saw her touch Gabriel’s arm and smile at him before going to talk to Arnie, and Jack suddenly knew that it was Gabriel’s wife. Jack studied her for a few moments, watching as she and Arnie smiled at each other. A lot of pieces had begun to click into place, and Jack’s gaze slid back to Gabriel to find the teacher looking at him.
Jack managed a small smile, although he knew it must be unconvincing. Gabriel made a gesture with his hand. It was subtle, meant only for Jack—an invitation, or perhaps even a plea. Come over?
I can’t, Jack thought, swallowing. I can’t do this. If he walked over there, Gabriel would introduce Jack to his wife, and it was suddenly too much, too quickly. Things had changed. Jack needed time to think, needed to get a handle on the emotions swirling within him. I’m sorry, he thought, because he didn’t want to hurt Gabriel’s feelings.
Gabriel looked at Alex, put a hand on the boy’s arm and nodded toward Jack. He spoke too quietly for Jack to hear him, but Jack could see the words on his lips: “I think your dad wants to go.”
Alex looked back at Jack with a small frown, turned back to say something to Gabriel, and then he was crossing over to Jack. “Sorry,” he said, which filled Jack with a fresh rush of guilt.
“Not trying to rush you,” Jack said. He glanced toward Gabriel, unable to stop himself. Gabriel wasn’t looking at him—he was looking at Natalie, but she was looking at Jack. “If there’s something—”
“I’m good,” Alex cut in. “We can leave if you want.” He was regarding Jack curiously, but he didn’t ask any questions. Jack knew that he owed his son an explanation, but he had to figure out what that would be.
***
He’d stopped for pizza on the way home, having no desire to fix dinner for himself and Alex. And—although he didn’t want to admit it to himself—a part of him had hoped that Alex would take his slices and retreat to his room. Jack felt like he was barely holding on by a thread, and what he really wanted was a drink. Or three. Or more. He’d love to drink himself into oblivion, something he hadn’t done in a very long time.
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