Chapter 228
“My sister was in one of these things once. National Honor society,” he whispered to Andy. “They used to carry candles, an’ one of the guys in Mace’s class dripped wax all in her hair.”
“Well, that sounds unpleasant,” Andy whispered back. “How much longer do you think they’re going to drone on before letting the kids out?”
“Just until we all start actin’ like second graders ourselves, I suspect,” Scooter said. True to his prediction, the muttering in the audience got up to a dull roar before Principal Williams finally turned things over to the teachers.
Honor roll and straight-A kids got awards. Perfect attendance awards. Gym class. Sports. Most library books read. Most likeable—not Billie. Best dressed. Most talkative. Quietest—decidedly not Billie. Most likely to succeed. Class clown. Miss Ellis brushed her long hair out of her face. “And by most votes in class, I’d like to give this last award to one of our newest students, voted by her classmates as ‘Most likely to take over the world,’ Miss Isabelle Stahl.”
The gathered parents broke out into chuckles; beside Scooter, Andy covered his face to hide his laughter. “Well, they’ve pegged her faster than I’d have thought,” Andy chortled.
Scooter nudged Andy in the side and then poked him. “Look, look,” he said, holding up his phone to snap photographs. “Miss Ellis actually got her a little tiara. Billie’s going to be insufferable over the summer. This is all your fault.” Scooter was almost grinning too hard to snark at his husband. It had actually started with Andy showing BilliePinky and the Braincartoons. Probably.
“I think you mean fabulous,” Andy retorted, still snickering and taking a few photos of his own. “I think that deserves an extra scoop of ice cream, honestly.”
“As long as you’re buying, Mr. Power behind the Throne,” Scooter said.
* * * *
Finally, finally, all the awards were passed out and the kids—and adults—were dismissed to the playground, where there were tables of food and drink set up and some games for the more active kids, and little tables for parents to sit with their kids.
“We appreciate you looking out for her,” Andy told Ms. Ellis. “It’s got to be hard to integrate a new kid so late in the school year, and I know she had some trouble…adjusting.” That was putting it mildly; Billie had been a bit of a nightmare for most of the first few weeks.
Ms. Ellis laughed, pushing her hair back again. “Well, I won’t sugar-coat it. She was difficult. She’s hardly the worst-behaved student I’ve met, however, and had a better reason for it than most. I daresay next year will go a little easier. I’ve put her in for the accelerated program; you should hear about that over the summer. That’ll challenge her a little more. I wasn’t teaching when her mother went to school here, but some of my colleagues have told me that a bored Stahl is a dangerous creature.”
“I can only imagine. We’ll look for that information,” Andy promised, and excused himself as another parent came up, accompanied by an overexcited child.
Scooter approached him a moment later. “It may be more difficult than expected to disentangle the child-thing from her friends.” He pointed where Billie was sitting on one of the tables, her dress spread all around her, tiara perched on her head. One of the kids had handed her a Wiffle-bat and she was dubbing knights and dames from her classmates. There was quite a line. “All. Your. Fault.”
Oh God, that was adorable. Andy pulled out his phone again. “Sorry not sorry,” he singsonged.
“Yeah, well, go fetch her majesty before she swings that bat too hard and pops some kid in the nose,” Scooter said. He was still grinning so Andy didn’t take it as a serious concern. “Ice cream, I think, is the next business of the day, right? We should bring some back to Dockside, or Kat’ll murder both of us.”
“Mostly just you,” Andy said, winking over his shoulder as he crossed the playground. “I see you’re already making progress on that bright future of yours,” he told Billie, “but let’s put off the rest of the ceremony for another time. We’ve got a very important appointment with the Baskin Robbins to keep.”
Not having grown up in Sandbridge, Andy still didn’t really know one kid from another, unless he’d been introduced, so he wasn’t sure who it was that piped up with, “Ice cream? You have the best parents.”
And it was apparently one of Billie’s good days, because she held out her arms to Andy without fussing and gave the kid a smug smirk. “Yes, I do.”
It probably would not be cool to be seen bawling on the second grade playground, would it? Andy swallowed around the lump in his throat and helped Billie to get down off the table without catching her dress on anything, snagged the bat from her hand and passed it off to one of her subjects, then led her back over to Scooter. He made a mental note to repeat that conversation to Scooter later, in private.