by Gina LaManna
“I thought you were bringing something cool,” Marissa said.
“It is cool.” I said. “You just don’t understand yet.”
“I understand.” A kid in the back of the classroom who oozed popular-jock-essence all over his desk waved a hand. “I think it’s cool.”
Marissa and Clarissa both flushed, and I knew in that instant I’d bought the girls a cool card with the cool kid.
“You’re welcome!” I hissed as Marissa reached out to shake my hand, suddenly my best friend once again. I wrapped my arms around her in a hug, whispering in her ear. “You owe me one.”
“Thanks, Lacey,” she whispered back. “Dillon is so cool.”
“Just don’t let him touch your bra,” I said.
“Ew, gross.” She stepped back. “I don’t need one yet. I’m not old.”
“Yeah, why would he want to touch that anyway?” Clarissa stuck out her tongue. “Nasty.”
“That’s the right attitude.” I gave the girls a thumbs up.
“Can I have your number?” Dillon called from the back. “I like older women.”
“Dillon!” Miss Lovehart snapped. “Enough.”
“I’m actually taken,” I said, basking in Lovehart’s jealousy. “But I appreciate it. Thanks...dude.”
“Thanks for coming.” Miss Lovehart gave me a tight smile. “We’ll see you...”
“Yes, it was great meeting you.” I gave a generous grin back, ignoring the fact that my greatest validation today had come from someone who might or might not have reached double-digits in age. But hey, when validation was in short supply, I couldn’t afford to be picky.
“Ready?” Anthony asked.
I nodded. “’Bye, class.”
Miss Lovehart nodded at Anthony, giving him a small finger wave. I marched out the door first, turning as she cleared her throat.
“You know, we have career day next week, if you want to come back.” She very clearly spoke to Anthony, and Anthony alone.
Anthony glanced over his shoulder, but I turned around and spoke first, pretending she’d been talking to me. “I’m not sure it’d be appropriate,” I said, giving her a grin. “You know, I’m a Luzzi, after all.”
Miss Lovehart’s cheeks turned rosy. “Oh, um. Excuse me, I didn’t mean—”
“He’s with the Luzzis,” I said, entangling my arm with Anthony’s. “At least, he’s with this Luzzi.” I pointed a thumb at myself.
“Oh, okay.” Miss Lovehart did a half-bow before murmuring goodbye and shutting the door.
“What was that all about?” Anthony turned towards me as we stood facing each other in the hallway.
“She wanted to jump your bones.”
“No she didn’t.”
“Uh, yeah, she did,” I said, again resisting the urge to roll my eyes at Anthony’s oblivion. “She wanted you real bad...dude.”
“But you told her we were dating...” Anthony trailed off as if that should make everything okay. “So I don’t understand how that’s possible.”
I patted his shoulder. “That’s okay. Better this way.”
Anthony put his arm around my shoulder, and I slid my mine comfortably around his waist. We walked in an easy silence down the hall. As we passed another female teacher that gave him the once over, I found myself wondering if it’d ever get easier to watch one woman after another drool over my boyfriend.
But as Anthony didn’t even notice the woman’s presence, an epiphany hit me – I had nothing to worry about at all. Even if every woman on the planet threw herself at him, it wouldn’t change anything. Because he wasn’t looking. And even if I couldn’t trust anyone else, I could trust him. The thought brought a smile to my face, and I leaned my head on his shoulder.
“Hey, is everything okay?” Anthony stopped against a set of lockers, turning me to face him.
“Yes,” I said with a smile. “Everything is great.”
“Because if you’re still worried about that teacher, I hope you know that I’d never – even if she was trying to, I wouldn’t – I wouldn’t even think about, couldn’t consider...”
“Shhh.” I put a finger to his stammering lips. “I know that. And I maybe overreacted. I just get a little protective, I suppose.”
“I don’t know at all what you mean.” Anthony winked, pulling me into a hug, his hands landing firmly on my butt. “I’m never overprotective.”
“It’s definitely not your middle name.” I shook my head in mock conviction. “Anyway, I’ll work on how I react, I promise you. Sometimes it’s hard not to feel jealous. I’ve never been with someone like you, and I guess I’m still getting used to everything that goes along with the package.”
Anthony’s face froze, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not I’d meant it as a compliment.
“Someone as amazing as you,” I clarified, raising a hand to his face and brushing my thumb against his cheek. “Someone as attractive, thoughtful, and caring as you.”
“Don’t tell anyone that, or else my reputation will be ruined.” Anthony brought me close, nestling his chin against my hair. “And I can’t have that happening. Not in my line of work.”
I grinned. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Just one thing.” Anthony stepped back, eyeing me with an expression I’d never seen before. Hesitant. Unsure, as if he wanted to tell me something he wasn’t entirely comfortable saying...
Brrriiing!
We both looked upwards, startled from our intimate moment as classroom doors flew open and children flocked around our waists, bumped into our shoulders, stepped on our feet.
“I hate school,” I repeated, as a swarm of people pounded through the hallways, en route to more classes. “What were you saying?”
“Later.” Anthony’s eyes were wild, and he had to shout to be heard over the screaming, laughing kids. “How do teachers do it?”
I shrugged. “Any thoughts on where we might be able to get that list?”
A gleam shone in Anthony’s eye. “You said that front desk lady liked me?”
“Liked might be an understatement. She took a few peeks at you, wasn’t even sly about it.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Anthony, she’s ninety. You’re going to flirt with a ninety-year-old?”
“No, I’m going to politely ask for a list of teachers that are as old as her.”
I considered it. “I suppose.”
“Do you want the list?”
I sighed. “Go talk to her, I’ll use the restroom and let you work your magic.”
Chapter 15
“MR. LAKE, CLASSROOM 310.” Anthony held up a sheet of paper with a grin as I emerged from a restroom that might as well have been scrubbed with cheap perfume.
“Tell me you didn’t have to kiss her to get that list.”
“Please and thank you go a long way.” Anthony gave a satisfied smile.
“Yeah, okay, buddy. Now you just sound like Nora.” I reached out and playfully swiped the piece of paper. “Only two names on here?”
“It was a long time ago.” Anthony put his hand on my lower back, guiding me in the direction I assumed would take us to room 310. “They’re probably all retired or...uh, indisposed.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That’s morbid.”
“I said retired.”
“So, Mr. Lake it is. On we go.”
Mr. Lake turned out to be the type of crotchety old man that I’d always disliked seeing on the first day of class. He taught English, wore a floppy bow tie, a permanent frown, and didn’t seem as though he’d have a sense of humor over a late assignment. My adrenaline spiked just thinking about being in his classroom.
Wiping my palms on my pants, I knocked on the door and waited for his nod. When he gave it, I approached his desk with trepidation. “Hi there, I was wondering if I could ask you a question? I’m—”
“You the cops?” Mr. Lake croaked, looking up through his glasses in annoyance.
“No, I’m—”
“You a parent?” He wrinkled his nose. “If so, my grading scale is fair and I don’t change mid-term grades once they’re live. So don’t bother asking.”
“If you’ll listen, I believe this lovely lady will tell you why she’s here.” Anthony must have quietly followed me into the classroom. He smiled, set his hand on my shoulder, and gave a light squeeze.
I gave an imperceptible nod to say thank you, but deep down I felt a little bad for Mr. Lake. Anthony’s looks and size were enough to fire up anyone’s nerves.
The teacher spluttered a response. “Yes, yes, go right ahead. So sorry.”
“I’m looking for someone who may have been a former student,” I began. “My mother passed away, and I’m looking for my biological father. I think he was a student here about forty years ago.”
“I’m going on fifty years here this next fall,” Mr. Lake said. “So I’d have been around. What’s the name?”
“That’s the thing.” I hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
Mr. Lake looked down at the paper he’d been grading and tapped his pencil against it. “How’m I supposed to help you without a name?”
Anthony cleared his throat.
Mr. Lake rephrased his question immediately. “Miss, all I’m saying is that I’ve seen a lot of students come and go in my day. Fifty years of them, as I said. Maybe you know a sport he played, or a crowd he hung around with?”
Cringing, I shook my head. “I do know a woman he dated. Her last name was Luzzi.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know a woman, or a former student, by that name. It’s possible I didn’t have her in my classes, but it’s an unusual name, and I do remember most of ’em.”
“She didn’t go to this school. I just wondered if maybe she hung around here, came to a sporting event, something.”
“I’m not into those sporting events. I’m sorry.” Mr. Lake shook his head. Glancing up at Anthony, he twisted his hands together in front of his body. “I really am sorry. If you happen to find a name for the man, or anything else, get back in touch.”
I nodded. “Thanks for your time.”
We shook hands, and I turned and left, trying to keep my shoulders held high.
“Hey, he was the first person on the list,” Anthony said. “It’s okay. We’ve still got...let’s see, Miss Hamachek.”
Twenty minutes later, Anthony and I left sweet Miss Hamachek’s Home-Ec classroom in a similar pose: my shoulder’s slumped, Anthony doing his best to prop me up.
“It was a long shot, Lacey, you knew that.” Anthony rubbed my back in soothing circles. “And this doesn’t mean we’re done looking. It’s just the beginning.”
I leaned into him. “You’re right. I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
“Stop it. You’re not wasting my time. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me, and I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”
I smiled up at him as we approached the lobby. “You’re right. Maybe the timing just wasn’t right.”
“Or maybe you’re looking in the wrong place,” a voice croaked from the front desk.
Anthony’s ninety-year-old admirer tapped her pencil behind the registration sign, her eyes flashing with delight. “You’re looking for all the teachers that have been here a long time. But what about the administration?”
I glanced over at Anthony, my lips parted in hope. I shut them, determined not to get my spirits up this time. Getting excited over and over again, only to be told no tired me out. The emotional rollercoaster was too much. Still, something in her voice told me that maybe, just maybe, we were about to get lucky.
“Would you know, by chance?” I asked, walking over to the desk. “Would you be able to help me even if I don’t have a name for the man?”
“Looking for your dad?” the woman asked. “I sort of overheard bits of your conversation.”
By “overheard” she really meant “eavesdropping,” but as this lady was my only remaining chance to find out some useful information at this school, I didn’t correct her. “I’m not positive this will be him, but it’s the only thing I’ve got to go off. Right now I’m just hoping for a hint in the right direction.”
“And you’re sure you want to meet him?” The lady leaned over the desk, sizing me up. “I’m an adopted child, you know. I had a great set of adoptive parents, and I never wanted to find my biological ones. That’s a choice, too, you know.”
“I know,” I said, my voice soft. “But I want to find him.”
She nodded. “Okay, what do you have on him?”
“Well, I believe he passed through this school due to a pin I found in my mom’s old things. It might not have been his, but I just can’t think of whom else the pin might belong to. Unfortunately, I don’t know his name, or any sport he played, or any friends he hung around with. I only know that he might have dated my mother for some time around high school.”
“You were barking up the wrong tree over there, talking to Mr. Lake,” she said, pushing away from the desk, her chair rolling over to the computer. “He never attends extracurricular events. Says it gets in the way of his reading. I think he’s just got a stick up his – well, you know where.”
I smiled. “I appreciate you helping me.”
“Of course.” Her eyes flicked to me, and a gaze of understanding passed between us. “Here’s my thought. You need to talk to someone who chaperoned prom, who organized homecoming, who knew which kids got in trouble, and for which misdemeanors.”
“And you know someone with that information?”
“Yes. Me.” The lady grinned. “Now, what’s your mother’s last name?”
“Luzzi,” I said.
The woman blinked. “She looked just like you, now that I think about it.”
“You knew her?”
“Of course I knew her.” A kind smile crinkled the receptionist’s laugh lines. “In fact, she sat right here, just where you are now, wearing a pair of handcuffs on prom night.”
“No,” I said automatically, disbelief taking over my face. “Really?”
She laughed. “Your mother didn’t go to this school, you’re right on that front. And back then we didn’t allow non-students to attend our private prom.”
I swallowed, hanging on her every word.
“But your mother’s date went here, back when we had grades K-12 in the same building. They turned it into a middle school a few years after he graduated.” Her eyes twinkled as she looked up. “Let’s just say that he felt strongly about sneaking her into the event. He also felt strongly about bringing in a bottle of champagne.”
I looked at Anthony, my jaw slack. “My mom was a little rascal. Can you believe it?”
Anthony pursed his lips, his expression nearly unreadable. “Yes, actually, I can. I would venture to say I’m not even surprised.”
The receptionist laughed and coughed all at once, a gravelly noise. “So, Ms. Luzzi, you’ve inherited your parents’ penchant for troublemaking?”
“No,” I said, at the same time Anthony snorted.
“You could say so,” he added, putting an arm around my shoulder. “I’d say that’s a modest way to put it.”
“Well, I must say...” The woman behind the desk shook her head. “Your mother was memorable, as was your father. And they were popular around this town, even with the teachers. Fun, the two of them, and in love. I think you should be very happy if it turns out this pair became your parents. Together, they made each other shine.”
I bit my lip. “Does he have a name?”
“He does.” The receptionist grabbed a pen and paper, glanced up at her screen, and jotted down two words in cursive. She folded it up, tucked it into an envelope, and sealed it shut. “Here,” she said, handing it over. “Open it when you’re ready. It might be never, and just remember – that’s okay, too.”
I nodded.
“It seems like you’ve found your own family, while looking for your immediate one.” The woman tilted her head
towards Anthony. She reached out and clasped my hands in hers, folding the envelope into my palms. “And that is what’s important. The past is the past, and you must never linger on it.”
I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”
“Good luck.” She spun back to her computer. “And remember, stay out of trouble.”
Anthony placed his hand on my back as we turned to go, but it was resting on my butt as we walked out the door – as if getting into trouble was exactly what was on his mind. “Fat chance of that, huh?’
“You’re a bad influence.” I shook my head, kissing his cheek. “It takes two to get in so much trouble.”
“Speaking of getting into trouble...” Anthony gave my rear end a light squeeze. “What do you say we head to your place, and—”
“Oh, dang it! Hang on a second,” I said, interrupting his proposition only because my phone was buzzing off the hook with Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. When I saw Carlos’s name on my caller ID, I groaned. “How about I ignore this?”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Anthony asked, giving me one last squeeze before pulling his hand away. “You can answer it. I’m always around to get in trouble anytime you like.”
“Aren’t you generous?” I smiled, then let out a sigh strong enough to register as a mini-tornado, and slid the button on my screen to Answer. “Hello?” I asked. “Carlos?”
“Lacey, it’s urgent. This is Carlos.”
“I know who it is, I have caller ID.”
“This is Carlos, your grandfather.”
“I know,” I said, giving Anthony my best exasperated face. “What’s so urgent?”
“The client I told you about is coming to retrieve the item. Tomorrow.”
“I know, you told me that,” I said, pushing away guilt that I’d taken a few hours off the case to do show and tell. “I’m working on it just as fast as I can.”
“The client suspects something.”
“What does he suspect?”
“That something has happened to the crown, Lacey. Find it, and find it fast. Otherwise, no Haunted House tomorrow. We’ll have other problems to deal with that are far more real than your fake monsters and zombies.”