Be My Friday Night Page 2

  Layla had talked her into this. She’d convinced Sam it'd be a good job until Sam was offered her dream professor job. She'd argued Sam didn't have time to find a short term position anywhere else. In Grover, she'd be put on the substitute teaching list in two seconds flat.

  It might have seemed like a good job to Layla. Being an English teacher at the high school was her dream job. Plus, she'd always been better with kids.

  Sam stopped stacking papers. She’d completely forgotten about Layla. She’d left her best friend alone in a classroom full of rabid teenagers. Layla was good with kids, but those teenagers had been wild.

  Sam lunged at the phone on her new desk. It was a large black clunker covered in buttons and color coded lights. Three of the lights were blinking.

  She picked up the receiver. Her finger hovered over the number keys. She had no idea how to work an office phone. The way her day was going she could possibly end up on the school intercom.

  “Having trouble with the voicemail?” said a voice.

  Sam’s head shot up. A man with a white beard raised his eyebrows.

  Phil, the janitor, was judging her.

  Sam prayed Phil had no recollection of her as a student at Grover High. The twinkle in his eye unfortunately told her otherwise. After all, she was a Henry.

  “Ah, no, I was just looking for a classroom phone number,” she said.

  “Which classroom?” said Phil.

  “Room 17,” said Sam.

  Phil held out his hand. Sam looked down the hall to see if anyone was watching. She handed him the receiver. Phil put it to his ear. He struck three buttons.

  “Room 17,” she heard Layla’s husky voice on the end of the line.

  “Hello Layla,” said Phil.

  Sam strained to listen for the cries of rabid teenagers. Phil gave her a look. She hunched back into her desk chair. Besides Layla’s voice asking Phil how he was doing, there seemed to be no sounds of mutinous students.

  “I was just helping Principal Harrison’s new secretary dial the number for Room 17. What are you up to in Mrs. Davenport’s class? Heard she had a bad case of the flu,” said Phil.

  Sam heard Layla make a muffled reply. Phil said something about how the new secretary could use the phone, but she had needed a little help.

  Phil’s tone quietly teased Sam’s lack of technological know-how. Sam crossed her arms. She swiveled side to side in her chair, and scowled.

  Phil nodded in understanding at something Layla said. He hit the speakerphone button, as if daring Sam to talk to Layla. Sam gasped. She smacked her hand over her mouth and shot Phil a look.

  “Phil, what does the new secretary look like?” Layla said.

  She sounded calm, too calm. Especially for someone who had corralled a class of freshman and been switched to speaker phone without notice.

  Sam frowned as Phil gave her a quick once over. He put his hand to his beard as if seriously regarding Layla’s request.

  “She’s very pretty. Unfortunately she has all her wonderful, wild, dark hair pulled back. Actually now that I think about it, she reminds me of the first Henry girl.”

  “Really? Well, I want to come up and introduce myself. Could you come downstairs and watch Room 17 for me? They’re watching a movie,” said Layla.

  Sam cursed under her breath. Phil and Layla exchanged good-byes. So much for feminism; she had just acquired a job as a secretary, and now Phil was describing her physical attributes.

  Phil placed the receiver back in its cradle.

  “Layla will be up in a few. It was nice to see you again Samantha, or should I say Dr. Henry?” he said.

  Sam opened her mouth to retort, but Phil turned his back to her and made his way down the hall toward the stairwell.

  Sam let out a breath.

  The red light on the phone was still blinking. She opened the desk drawer and searched for the manual. Hopefully this was something she could fix.

  2

  “Sam, what the hell happened between you jumping ship on Cindy’s class to you becoming Otto’s new secretary? Oh man, wait till Holly hears about this,” said Layla, referring to Holly O’Malley, Sam’s hometown best friend since kindergarten. Holly was the art teacher at Grover High.

  Sam looked up from the faded phone manual she’d found. Finally something had been where it was supposed to be. Unfortunately, it was written in a style meant to make life difficult.

  Layla Carey had her crimped hair pulled back in a low braid framed with a thin headband. Her latte face, sprinkled with playful freckles, wore a concerned frown.

  “Otto and I made sort of a, er, a deal,” said Sam.

  Layla raised her eyebrows. She kept her huge jade eyes on Sam.

  Layla’s peridot eyes and her golden brown skin always seemed ethereal to Sam. Layla belonged in an Art Deco painting, wearing a flowing Grecian gown, her hair blowing behind her.

  Sam swallowed. She suddenly wanted a cup of coffee. To her left, a glass coffeepot shone like a beacon on the avocado Formica counter in the kitchenette parallel to her desk. She slid out of her chair and beelined for the coffeepot. Layla followed her.

  “Well thanks dearie, I’d love a cup. Also, I’d love to hear what happened between you and Otto,” she said.

  “Well, after I found you I guess I kind of had a panic attack,” said Sam.

  “You mean you had another panic attack. You were having one when you came into my classroom,” said Layla. Her voice softened with concern.

  Sam opened cabinets in search of coffee supplies.

  “I found myself here, and Otto saw me. He figured I could be his office assistant until I find a job as a professor,” said Sam

  “Interesting. Well Casey did jump the coop the other day. Are you sure about doing this until you leave?” Layla said.

  “Why not? It’s something to do until I hear back from schools,” Sam said. She hit the start button on the coffeemaker.

  Layla held up her hands as if getting ready to list the reasons why substitute teachers weren’t supposed to abandon their classrooms and suddenly become secretaries, especially if said substitute teacher didn't have the best organization skills. Sam could also imagine what Layla would say about particularly being Otto’s secretary. Both only children, Otto and Layla had become like brother and sister. Layla was protective of Otto the same way she was protective of Sam. She’d mentioned in the past how Otto would ask about Sam. Layla had hinted there was something more to his well wishes than pure friendliness.

  Sam realized the coffeemaker hadn’t turned on with the first hit of the button. She frantically hit the start button over and over until the green light lit up. Layla pressed her lips together and said nothing. Sam could see the shift in Layla’s eyes from being the practical friend she usually prided herself on being.

  “It’s okay. You’re fresh out of grad school and aren’t prepared for teenagers who hate school. It’s not even fair. Of course they ate you alive. Also, rent’s due in two weeks. I really don’t care what you do as long as you can pay your half,” she said.

  The coffee began to percolate. Sam placed two mugs on the counter, one shaped like an owl with ceramic ruffled feathers while the other, bright red, had Wonder Woman’s “W” blazoned across the front.

  Sam began to search the utensil drawer for spoons.

  “I mean, I could always get a job at Cat’s Corner again, or I could become a stripper. I've secretly always wanted to be a stripper,” said Sam, picking two spoons out of the drawer, examining each in the light for cleanliness.

  Layla flinched. They both remembered the summer before their junior year in college waiting tables at Grover’s favorite brunch spot.

  Layla had worried she’d have nowhere to go for summer break until Sam had off-handedly suggested she come with her to Grover for the summer. They’d gotten jobs waiting tables. Layla had fallen in love with the town of Grover. Once they’d returned to school she’d started plotting how to return as soon as possible.

&nb
sp; It had also been the summer the entire town had decided Sam was never going to make it as a career waitress.

  “Yes, you could always strip. With your butt it’s definitely an option. Have you heard back about the fellowship or any of the adjunct positions?” said Layla.

  Sam jumped at the finished pot of coffee, pulling it off the burner. She mumbled something about waiting a few weeks before hearing about any prospects. She poured coffee into the mugs.

  “So, I figure I can do this while I wait. I’m not going to say ‘how hard can it be’ because hard jobs always look incredibly simple, like substitute teaching. All I can say is so far, it’s been pretty calm up here. I like that,” Sam said.

  Layla took a sip of coffee from her Wonder Woman mug. She closed her eyes and let out a small moan of happiness.

  “Don’t worry. You can handle this. Otto really needs someone, so it’s a win-win for both of you,” she said.

  She grinned to herself before taking another sip of coffee.

  “What?” said Sam.

  Layla shook her head.

  “Oh, just I remember Otto being here for a few weeks visiting Zelda when we worked at Cat’s Corner that one summer. He was always very happy to see you. He ordered a lot of French toast. That’s all. I would have liked to have seen the look on his face when he walked in on you wandering around his office,” said Layla.

  Sam swatted at her friend.

  “The coffee!” Layla said, clutching her mug.

  “He seemed normal to me,” said Sam.

  She wasn’t going to tell Layla about the way her stomach flipped when he walked into the office, or the warm look in Otto’s eyes when he saw her. Normally she’d tell Layla all the juicy details, but with Otto it seemed dangerous. As principal of the high school, Otto was now part of Grover’s fabric. Sam had been trying to rip herself away for years.

  “I really should’ve gotten a job as an artist’s assistant or something else not in Grover,” said Sam. There was more distress in her voice than she’d intended.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” said Layla.

  Sam hoisted her body up on the counter. She looked out the window overlooking the landscape around the school. The trees, dabbed with touches of gold, blew in the wind. The rocky hills on the edge of town seemed to shoot up from the ground, protecting Grover from the outside world.

  Sam looked down at Layla.

  “Thanks. I do love spending time with you and Holly. That’s why it's really awesome being here before I move somewhere for a job,” she said.

  Layla patted Sam’s knee before looking up at the clock in the hallway.

  “Sam, my class starts in a few minutes. I called in a new sub to take over Cindy’s class for the rest of the day. I’m going to finish my prep during lunch, but I’ll see you at home,” Layla said.

  Sam felt her stomach tighten again. She was the reason Layla was going to be working during lunch.

  “Layla, I’m so sorry I—” she started. Layla held up a hand.

  “Don’t worry about it babe,” Layla said.

  She took another sip from her mug.

  “This coffee's great. Keep this up and I’ll be really sad when you leave here,” she said.

  Sam laughed. She jumped off the counter.

  “It is delicious. I learned how to make a decent brew when I worked at that art gallery during grad school summers. Nothing there would’ve gotten done without really dark coffee.”

  "I remember you loved those summers. It was so much fun visiting you," said Layla.

  She wrapped her arms around Sam for a quick, fierce hug.

  “It was pretty fabulous,” said Sam from over Layla’s shoulder.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Layla said.

  Sam put her forehead on Layla’s shoulder and nodded.

  Mug in hand, Layla walked back to her class.

  Sam took a sip from her owl mug. She shuffled the papers in front of her. The hall was quiet. The muffled voice of a teacher down the hall traveled to Sam’s ears. Besides the echoing sound, the air was still.

  Sam savored the quiet. She didn't expect it to stay this way, but for now it was nice. She was on the clock, but there wasn't that nagging feeling in her stomach. It was the first time in her life things weren’t expected on a deadline. No dissertation to turn in, no articles to publish, and no impending pressure of turning those articles into a book.

  No. For now, she just had to figure out how to organize Otto Harrison’s professional life. While she wasn’t thrilled it was Otto, there was a relief about her own name not being on the line.

  So, what was next? Secretaries were organized, sane people. Sam nodded to herself. It was time to get to work.

  3

  Downstairs, Otto was listening to Randy O’Malley, the football team’s assistant coach, drone on about the funds needed for a new stadium.

  Funds the school didn’t have, funds Otto would put toward new classroom supplies and technology if they did.

  Otto rubbed his forehead.

  Good thing Randy taught boys’ P.E. His manly monotone was part of the reason the boys worshiped him.

  “Where’s Ethan?” Otto said, referring to the Guanacos’ head football coach.

  Otto was going to force a rain check on Randy by pointing out how unwise it was to discuss such matters without Ethan, who was not only head coach, but also Grover’s hometown golden boy.

  Randy threw up his hands as if Otto had just come up with the concept for beer.

  “I’m right ahead of you Harrison. I think he’s on his prep period in his classroom. We definitely need his input. Let’s go get him,” Randy said.

  Randy rose from his chair and began a swift trot in the direction of the history classrooms.

  Otto cursed Randy for his abundance of energy and followed the P.E. coach out of the locker room.

  Outside, they passed a skinny high school freshman coming in from running laps. Otto wanted to pause and tell him life was eventually going to get better, but Randy was already a few strides ahead of him.

  Watching the backside of Randy’s head, plentiful with blond hair, made Otto tired. He realized it was the same way he felt in general being principal of Grover High sometimes.

  Otto loved living in Grover, a place that had accepted him when his parents and their affluent social circles hadn’t been very happy with his antics or politics. Looking back, the summers spent working at his Aunt Zelda’s pizzeria had probably kept him sane, if not alive.

  He also loved working at Grover High School. Being principal hadn’t been part of the plan when he’d been hired as a guidance counselor. Over time, he’d learn to love the position.

  Otto and Randy jogged past a mural of a herd of guanacos, a small South American llama-like creature, and the school’s mascot. Each guanaco had a different expression on its face, bewildered, confused, and joyous. It always reminded Otto of the large range of emotions students felt on a daily basis.

  Keeping pace behind Randy, Otto thought about how he could get a word in about Ethan’s students’ low AP scores from last year, and how the beginning of this school year could be a time for some changes. Otto had meant to bring it up to Ethan before he left for summer break last year but hadn’t had the chance. Ethan had always been hard to pin down. Lost in thought, Otto almost collided with Randy, who’d stopped running and stood in the doorway of Ethan’s classroom.

  Ethan’s room was more Spartan than most. Two pennants tacked up on the back wall were the room’s only punches of color. One was orange and white for the Grover Guanacos. The other was the maroon and gold of Ethan’s alma mater, the USC Trojans.

  Ethan sat at his metal desk in the back of the classroom, inputting grades into his laptop computer. He looked up and nodded at the two men. He walked around to the front of his desk, leaned against it, and crossed his arms.

  “Otto, Randy, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he said.

  Otto had always thought that the arch of Ethan’
s eyebrows made him look like a villain out of a Disney movie.

  However, this went against town sentiment. Like Randy, Ethan had attended Grover High School. He’d been the best quarterback in the Guanacos’ history.

  Ethan was a giant in the small town. He was also married to Randy’s sister, Holly, the school’s art teacher and a former Guanacos’ homecoming queen.

  “Otto didn’t want me talking about the new football stadium without you,” said Randy.

  Ethan kicked the toe of his shoe into the thin classroom carpet, one, two, three times. It was on the third kick Otto realized Ethan had yet to meet Randy’s eyes. Usually, Otto was the one Ethan offered little regard.

  “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you guys. Now seems like as good of a time as any,” said Ethan. His voice was rough. He still hadn’t met Randy’s eager gaze.

  “What is it?” said Randy.

  “Otto, I’m giving you my two weeks’ notice,” said Ethan.

  Otto felt a spark of surprise. He eased into his stance and crossed his arms. Not saying anything, just waiting for Ethan to explain.

  “I’ve been offered the head coaching position at Winthrop High. I’ve decided to accept their offer,” said Ethan.

  “Oh wow, that’s big news. They’ve always had a great program. I can’t believe Holly never said anything,” said Randy.

  Otto and Ethan looked at Randy, surprised by his words of congratulations.

  “It’s cool I didn’t tell you earlier?” said Ethan.

  Randy waved off their expressions.

  “Nah man, it would have been way more depressing knowing you were looking to leave. I had a hunch with Coach Ryan passing away over the summer that Winthrop would be eyeing you. I’ll miss you like hell.” Randy gave Ethan a brotherly punch to his bicep.

  “I mean, I’m not thrilled but I’ll get over it. I’m just surprised Holly didn’t spill the beans. When she visits Mom, they tend to gossip about everything, and we all know how well my mom can keep a secret,” Randy said.

  Ethan ran his hand through his newly cut hair and let out a sigh. His eyes were bright as if he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before.