“Me? God, no. Don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” Renee scoffs. “And nobody ever checks it. Honestly, I don’t know why I bother.”
“Do you think I could take it over?” I ask.
“You’d do that?” Renee says through a mouthful of potato salad. “Really?”
“Sure. I used to have a kind of knack for it. I don’t mind keeping it up. It’s easy for me.”
“I’d have to check with Carlisle, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, since she hates doing it herself,” Renee says. “Come into the office tomorrow, and I’ll give you all the necessary login creds.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I agree. Atticus and Trey remain speaking together away from the others, and I appreciate how at ease Trey looks. He’s not suspicious or afraid of Atticus. He doesn’t treat him differently or like he’s somehow inferior.
Renee’s gaze follows mine. “He’s single, you know.”
“Huh?” I blink back at her.
“Officer Washington.” Renee’s expression is a little too impish. “Broke up with his long-distance girlfriend from Chicago not too long ago, or so I hear.”
“Oh, I wasn’t—”
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
I’m trying not to become too exasperated. “Renee, there’s nosecret.”
When Sullivan approaches Trey and Atticus, my hackles are up and at the ready. Sullivan has been nothing but snide to Atticus since he arrived. What the hell does he want?
As I join them, I hear the tail-end of their conversation.
“I’m just telling you, Washington, don’t get too friendly. It’s bots like him that are gonna take your job.”
“I’m not worried about that,” Trey replies. “The school can barely afford a resource officer, let alone an android replacement. Why so prickly, Phil? Afraid he can do your job better than you?”
“Everything good here?” I interject, standing beside Atticus.
Atticus isn’t comfortable. I can tell immediately. The way he stands, shoulders straightened, hands resting behind his back, his face neutral and unreadable. It reminds me of a cadet trying to stand strong in front of an angry drill sergeant. He only ever reverts to this stance when he’s being challenged, usually by Sullivan or another faculty member, or when I’m dealing with a difficult student.
“Everything’s fine.” The edge in Sullivan’s voice melts, too friendly and honeyed when speaking to me. “Just talking politics, that’s all.”
“Well, Phil.” I rarely use his name, but I do now to get his attention. “You know what they say about discussing politics in the workplace. Not good for morale.” Really, I just want to leave now. There’s nothing for us to do here except ruffle feathers. “You know, I just remembered, I have tests to correct, and I’d like to get started. Don’t suppose you could put together a plate for me to take home? Those burgers smell delicious.”
Atticus peers at me quizzically but says nothing.
“I should head out myself,” Trey agrees. “Take care, now.”
My request for Phil Sullivan’s food does wonders in smoothing things over as he hands me a covered plate piled high.
“Enjoy,” he says. “And if you’d like a private cooking lesson, you just let me know.”
I don’t know what surprises me more, his shameless self-confidence or the fact nobody’s taken this man aside to tell himhey, you shouldn’t be anywhere near a stove. I guess this is really what “Midwest Nice” means.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I turn to Atticus. “Let’s go home.”
* * *
“You lied.”
Atticus drives up to my apartment complex. The car automatically parks itself.
“About what?”
