Tamiko and the Two Janitors (Amaranthine Saga Book 3)

by Forthright

  Silver eyes slowly closed, and the she-wolf let her head droop lower. Torloo was quick to stroke her face, crooning comfort. His growls weren’t deep enough to rumble, and they reminded Melissa of purring. She added her own caresses, sifting her fingers through the thick fur framing True’s face. “May I tend you, True?”

  With a grumbling whine, the Kith backed up and sagged onto her bed of hay.

  Torloo caught Melissa’s hand and led her over, all smiles. “True is ready for tending.”

  “Where should I sit?”

  “Here.” The boy indicated the space between True’s forepaws. “For Rook’s sake and for Christopher’s and for Jiminy’s, she will take you to her heart.”

  Melissa gladly curled up between soft fur and fragrant hay, but she muttered, “What’s Jiminy got to do with anything?”

  If True answered, the only translation Torloo offered was a soft giggle.

  TWELVE

  No Running in the Halls

  Within a week of school starting, Tami quickly realized that every child at Landmark Elementary knew Ash and Kip. A slightly guilty snoop through their personnel files showed that yes, the two janitors had worked at the school long enough for all the kids to have been introduced to the duo during kindergarten orientations past. And the students adored them.

  Was it strange for janitors to have so much influence? Maybe. Then again, she remembered Joe being fond of one of the old janitors who’d worked at Landmark back when they were kids.

  Not every role model had to be a teacher.

  Since she was already being nosy, she gleaned a few more facts. For instance, Kip really was short for Kipling—Alder Kipling. She was shaking her head in sympathy for a young Kip, only to realize that Alder was possibly the lesser evil, at least, from a kid’s point of view. Ash was short for Ashishishe. Tami could only assume this was a traditional name, a mark of his Native American heritage. A quick search on her phone brought up a meaning.

  Crow.

  A second surprise came with the unexpected realization that Ash and Kip lived together. Their address was indeed out in Nocking, which meant their commute was even longer than hers. They weren’t only always together … they might be together. Tami had no experience with that sort of thing. Maybe if she watched for signs, she’d be able to tell if they were the best friends she’d assumed them to be or … more.

  Tami whisked the folders away without reading any further. If she wanted to know anything more about the two, it would be from them.

  Her phone chimed, alerting her to a new comment on her inquiry about their mystery tree. With everything else going on, she’d half-forgotten about her forum post.

  Stumped by Your Orphan

  Cannot possibly be native to N. America. Forwarding your query to a colleague in Europe who is the last word in trees.

  Progress! She could hardly wait to tell Joe.

  Tami was hurrying along the hallway, bound for the library. She needed a few snapshots to accompany a full listing of their catalog to attach to her request for an Amaranthine librarian. Coming toward her along the wide hall was Ash with a push broom, giving the floors his usual careful attention. Only he appeared to be dragging a couple of third-graders along behind him. The boys, who’d been released for morning recess only a few minutes ago, lay on their bellies, their hands locked around his ankles. With every step Ash took, they slid forward.

  “Morning, Principal Reaverson,” Ash calmly greeted.

  “Good morning, Ash. Gentlemen,” she returned evenly. “On your way to the playground?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He stopped to lean on his broom handle. “On your feet, boys.”

  They scrambled up, flushed and fidgeting. Ash poked them, and they mumbled, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Eyebrows lifting, Ash said, “With your permission, Principal Reaverson?”

  “Carry on, gentlemen.”

  The boys made their escape, trying to run without actually breaking the no-running-in-the-halls rule in front of the principal.

  “Those two tend to loiter in their classroom. Probably so I’ll come find them.” Ash’s gaze didn’t waver from the retreating figures. “They’re all right.”

  Tami tended to agree, but she wasn’t going to let him off easy. “I can’t believe you called me ma’am.”

  Ash seemed startled. “My manners are becoming their manners.”

  “That’s … very true.”

  The janitor shuffled sideways and ambled on, calling back, “Just teaching the boys to respect a lady.”

  Tami had the strongest sense that she’d just been complimented.

  September was rushing toward October when Tamiko had the urge to convene her special committee of three. Only Ash and Kip weren’t in the maintenance room or any of the hallways. She popped in on Mrs. Dabrowski, who was typing up their next column for the Bowshot, Archer’s local paper.

  “Have you seen either of our janitors?”

  Flootie checked the time. “At this hour, they’re always on the playground.”

  “They really do oversee recess?”

  “Like champs. You should go see.” The woman took a second look at the clock. “Let me grab some coffee, and I’ll come with you.”

  Mugs in hand, Tami followed Flootie along the hallway and out the side door into the playground. It hadn’t changed much since Tami was little—swings, slides, and a dome-shaped jungle gym. There were also basketball hoops and two goals on a half-size soccer field, which is where they spotted Kip.

  Tami shook her head in disbelief. “Is he taking on the whole class?”

  “Singlehandedly.” Flootie cradled her coffee cup. “He gives those wiggle-monsters a real work-out. It’s a big help to the teachers, I’m telling you.”

  She watched a little longer, enjoying the redhead’s athletic leaps and comical ball-handling. But Flootie was right about Kip’s showboating. This wasn’t so much a soccer match as a game of chase, and the second-graders were being run ragged. “This is better than Phys. Ed.”

  “No idea where he gets his energy.” Flootie radiated approval. “And Ash is good at coaxing the reluctant ones into quieter games.”

  Tami didn’t notice Ash right away because he was in a tree. “How in the world does he get up there?”

  “He makes it look easy, but I never could do it.” Flootie gestured broadly with one hand. “He does this vertical leap and catches that narrow lower limb, then does a few chin-ups for the crowd. From there, he swings his legs up and climbs to his favorite branch.”

  Below his perch, boys and girls were embroiled in a complicated game of hopscotch. A winner was declared, and Tami’s amazement doubled when Ash swung down in order to lead the whole group in a game of follow-the-leader. He looked like the Pied Piper of Hamlin.

  Of course, the janitors weren’t the only playground monitors. Three women—parents who volunteered—looked on with indulgent smiles, and Mrs. Connell, their Phys. Ed. teacher, was taking all comers at the tetherball pole. They even had two interns from the university, a couple of girls who were paying more attention to the janitors than the children.

  Tami pointed them out.

  “I’ll give them a bit of a scolding later. Or better, have Harrison do it. He’ll strike the right balance since he’s all about the kids. Can you blame them though?” Her secretary hid her smile behind her blue-patterned mug. “Men like Kip and Ash are hard to come by. They’d be quite the catch.”

  Tami tried for a noncommittal hum.

  “Which one do you prefer?”

  “I’ve never given it a thought,” Tami hedged. “Don’t they come as a pair?”

  “They do at that. And they work together to make sure every one of our kids is noticed and known. Thanks to them, we don’t have many troublemakers here.” Pointing to a cartwheeling Kip, Mrs. Dabrowski cheerfully added, “One could argue that he’s our worst—and best—one.”

  “We’re lucky to have them,” Tami murmured.

  Flootie’s fondness was
plain on her face. “Landmark would fall apart without them.”

  THIRTEEN

  How to Treat a Lady

  The maintenance room was about the only place on school grounds where Ash was sure he was safe. But Tami had started dropping by for their “special committee” meetings, which were really more like extended coffee breaks. He did try to focus on the business aspects of these sessions, but it was distracting having her in a place he considered private—and therefore intimate.

  What troubled him most was the fact that he was getting used to her little invasions. Maybe even looking forward to them.

  “… they keep doing it, and it’s driving me crazy. Whatever they’re giving him, it’s too small for me to see from a distance.”

  Kip burst out laughing, and Ash snapped to attention. He’d lost track of the conversation about the same time he realized that Tami had pierced ears. Her hair was usually down, but an upswept style exposed faceted stones that dangled from each lobe. They drew his attention to the shape of her ear, the curve of her jaw, the line of her neck.

  “Do you want to tell her, or should I?” asked Kip.

  “Go ahead,” he murmured, not even sure what they were talking about.

  “Paperclips.” Kip spread his hands wide. “The kids are passing him paperclips.”

  Tami’s gaze swung his way. Ash sighed and fished in the pocket of his coveralls, coming up with half a dozen paperclips—two silver, one gold, a pink, a green, and one with black and white stripes.

  “But why?” she asked.

  Ash said, “It’s Kip’s fault.”

  The redhead held up both hands. “Hey, it was an accident. Sort of.”

  Tami settled back in her chair. “This should be good.”

  “Could be worse,” Ash conceded.

  Kip rolled his eyes. “You love it, and you know it.”

  Ash simply grunted.

  “As principal, I need to know what’s happening on my campus.”

  “Pulling the principal card?” Kip made a helpless gesture. “What can I do, Ash? She’s the boss.”

  He sighed. “Stop making a big deal out of nothing.”

  Kip jumped right in. “Okay, so this was a few years back. I may have given a couple of first-graders the impression that Ash likes shiny objects. Was it at Christmastime?”

  “Valentine’s,” Ash corrected. As if he didn’t remember.

  “But that was a mistake, because for first-grade girls, shiny means glitter. And Ash has an unholy dread of glitter.”

  “Gets everywhere.” The stuff was almost impossible to banish.

  “So to spare my good friend from hallways doused in sparkle-dust, I thought fast and offered a more palatable alternative—the humble paperclip. Word spread. Fast.” Kip shrugged. “The kids have been giving them as tokens of affection ever since.”

  Ash shifted restlessly. “It’s harmless.”

  Kip leaned over to tug at Ash’s sleeve, revealing a bracelet made from linked paperclips.

  “Oooh, very stylish.”

  The approval in Tami’s tone sent Ash’s pulse flying.

  She said, “It’s a cute idea. And paperclips are easy to come by.”

  “I’m their number one supplier.” Kip bounced up and crossed to the workbench. Pulling down a blue plastic bucket, he brought it over for her to see. “Plenty of love to go around.”

  Tami sifted her hands through the thousands of paperclips they’d accumulated. “Do you have a favorite?”

  Ash frowned. “A favorite paperclip?”

  “A favorite color.”

  Kip cheerfully revealed, “He can’t resist blue.”

  She fished out a sky blue paperclip. “What about you?”

  “Oh, I’ve always been more of an acorn guy.” Kip admitted, “The whole paperclip thing is really just a spin-off on something my dad started. He’d sneak acorns into my mother’s apron pockets. When I asked him about it, he started including me. Acorns in my pockets, under my pillow, in my favorite mug.”

  “So tokens of affection are a family tradition.” Tami was nodding thoughtfully. “One you’ve shared with your Landmark family.”

  Kip touched her shoulder and returned the bucket to its shelf.

  Ash struggled with unaccustomed envy. Kip had always been his buffer, helping keep him—and his secret—secure. Ash was all high places and safe distances, but Kip was all shoulder pats and hand-holding and hugs. He was affectionate with everyone from the cafeteria ladies to the bus drivers. It wasn’t as if Ash had an aversion to touch. Not by a longshot. But his dual heritage had left him with something even harder to hide than excess fur.

  He had to be careful.

  “… should be getting back,” Tami was saying.

  Out of habit, they both rose to their feet. The old courtesies were too well ingrained to shake.

  “I’ll have to keep an eye out for acorns,” she said. “But in the meantime ….”

  And she was coming his way. Ash backed up a step, but there was no graceful way to evade her approach. He bumped against a work bench and froze. Tami had him cornered.

  “Hold out your hand,” she ordered.

  He obeyed, and Tami dropped her blue paperclip onto his palm. “For you.”

  Kip was talking, and Tami laughed. The door shut, and Ash was still standing there, staring at his hand, no sure how to interpret the tangle of urges that were as confusing as they were exhilarating.

  “Ash?”

  He grunted.

  Kip asked, “What’s up?”

  “She gave me a paperclip.”

  His best friend nodded. “She totally did.”

  Ash’s throat was tight. “What do you think it means?”

  Kip smiled faintly. “I’d wager it means what we told her it means.”

  “What did we say it means?”

  “You know the answer.” Kip gently placed his hands under Ash’s. “They’re a token of affection.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Tapping his own nose, Kip touched Ash’s. “Unfair, friend. You made me promise not to mention those yearnings of yours.”

  “I’m not yearning.” It was a feeble protest.

  For just a moment, Ash could have sworn his best friend looked sad, but Kip leaned close to whisper in his ear. “Ashishishe, I’m not the only one who talks in my sleep.”

  Ash couldn’t sleep.

  He lay on his stomach in the bed that took up most of his loft, blankets askew, thoughts as tangled as his sheets. This was a mess. A misunderstanding. Yes, Tami had given him a paperclip, but more than half the kids at Landmark had done the same. And she’d mentioned finding an acorn for Kip. It was a friendly token. Hers was a friendly affection.

  But something about her gift was making his instincts go haywire.

  Denying them didn’t exactly stop them. But he couldn’t act on this sudden attraction, even if it was mutual. Tami was only giving him a second look because she couldn’t see him clearly. He looked like a lab experiment gone awry. Disfigured. Awkward. Inhuman.

  He might have a handful of friends in the human world, but only because Kip kept them in ignorant bliss. They both had to be careful. Either of them could be labeled a monster.

  What would Tami think if she found out that the Amaranthine she was so eager to welcome to Landmark Elementary were already there? Maybe she’d be glad. But maybe she’d feel betrayed.

  It’s why most clans remained in hiding. Humans and Amaranthine might be compatible, but they didn’t always mix. Ash had no idea who his biological father might be. Or if he even knew he’d impregnated a human. Cyril occasionally renewed his offer to make discreet inquiries, but Ash refused to give up any details that might help locate his kin and clan. Cyril was the only father he needed, and Rook was as good a mother as any.

  All he could do was keep from making the same kind of mistake.

  He needed to hold off, to hold back … and to be held.

  Halfway out of bed, he paused to place the blue
paperclip on its center—safe within his nest. Then he dropped to the ground floor and crept into Kip’s bed.

  Putting aside his book and pulling him into a loose embrace, his best friend made comforting noises. “Why so miserable?”

  “She’s wonderful.”

  “Such a problem,” Kip said seriously. “How dare she?”

  Ash simply clung tighter.

  Hands smoothed and soothed. “What do you want to do?”

  “Things I can’t.”

  Kip chuckled. “You’re a big boy, now, and I’m fairly confident all your pieces and parts are functioning normally. And responding favorable whenever she’s in the general vicinity.”

  “Shut up,” he groaned.

  “Seriously, Ash. She likes you.”

  “She only thinks she does. The person she sees isn’t real.”

  Kip asked, “Have you been false with her?”

  “I haven’t been practicing full disclosure for a lot of years.” Ash began to relax in spite of himself, taking much-needed comfort from closeness. “Same as you.”

  His best friend hummed. “I may mess a little with perceptions, but the personality Tami is drawn to … that’s all you.”

  “But it isn’t all of me.” Ash arched his wings and beat the air. “I’m not human.”

  “Not gonna matter.” Kip cupped his cheek and spoke slowly. “Once I open her eyes, she’ll like what she sees. Trust me on this. You’re irresistible.”

  “It can’t work.”

  “Made up your mind on that score?” Kip flopped back. “Okay, you win. What was I even thinking? Guess it’s just you and me. Together forever. Sad fate.”

  “Hey!”

  “Kidding, kidding.” Kip snickered and hauled him over, tangling their legs together and wrapping his tail around Ash’s shoulders.

  “I don’t want to be in love,” Ash whispered.

  “That’s practically an admission.”

  He grunted.

  With experienced strokes, Kip settled ruffled feathers and kneaded away Ash’s tension. “Can I say something as your friend?”