Work1

Chapter One

After applying a final piece of tape to the last poster she needed to hang up, Wally climbed down off of her desk, swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, and collapsed into her desk chair. “Glad that’s finished,” she muttered.

“Talking to yourself again?” came an amused voice from the doorway.

Wally looked over to see her friend Gina leaning against the doorjamb. Sending a smirk her way, Wally nodded vigorously. “Yep,” she drawled, “at least then I’ll know it was an intelligent conversation.”

Gina broke down in laughter and sauntered into the classroom. After seating herself in a desk in the front row, the auburn-haired woman asked, “All finished fixing the room up?”

The tiny blonde tilted her head and sighed. “I think so. I mean, I wanted to change the look up a little, but I don’t think I succeeded,” she clarified in muted disappointment. Gina tried to hide a grin behind her hand, but Wally caught the gesture. “What?” she grumbled.

Letting the grin have its way, Gina explained, “Wall, my friend, let’s face it. You’re a nerd.” Wally stuck her tongue out at that proclamation, and then opened her mouth to speak. Gina held up a hand to forestall the predictable rejoinder. “You know I’m right. For Pete’s sake, Wally, you think a Rubik’s cube makes a great decoration!” she giggled.

Wally narrowed her gaze and replied pointedly, “I’ll have you know that the mathematical possibilities inherent in a Rubik’s cube make it a mathematical work of art! And besides…I got a NEW one. In pastels!” she exclaimed with feeling, gesturing grandiosely to said piece of artwork.

Gina tossed her hands in the air and said teasingly, “I take it back. You’re not a nerd. You’re a colossal nerd!”

Wally grinned at the banter, not finding any of it offensive. She and Gina had been having the same argument for the last five years. And Dr. Wallis Keegan was very much aware of her nerd status. It kind of went hand-in-hand with graduating high school at age 14, having gotten her Bachelor’s degrees (two of them) by age 17, her Master’s at 19, and her PhD at 21. She could laugh about being a nerd, but she just didn’t want to talk about being a genius. It embarrassed and upset her, and her friends knew not to mention it.

Settling down, Gina, who taught Latin and junior English down the hall, asked, “So are you ready to go?” She had finished setting her room up an hour ago and had been waiting for Wally, who always took twice as long as everyone else to do just about anything.

Wally shook her head and tapped her fingers rhythmically against the desktop. “Nope. I have to speak with Howard about my new Trig books.” With a grimace, she muttered, “Like where the hell are they?”

Gina frowned in sympathy. “Bummer. Is that the only thing you have left before classes start on Monday? You have your first quarter lesson plans already finished and everything?” At Wally’s nod, Gina snorted, “Why do I bother asking? You’ve probably had them finished since the beginning of August.” When the blonde did not deny it, the English teacher stood up and groaned, “Wally, that’s disgusting.” Heading for the door, she said over her shoulder, “Well, I’m out of here, I guess. Call me later…if you want to do something. I thought maybe we could have lunch on Saturday?”

Wally nodded, “Okay. I’ll give you a call tomorrow morning.” Gina tossed a little wave over her shoulder and disappeared as the blonde looked on with amusement. She gave a small shake of her head at her friend’s antics. Many thought Gina was an odd choice for a friend for Wally, but she just shrugged off their opinions as irrelevant. At 55, Regina Zobricki had been teaching forever, whereas Wally had only been doing so for five years, being only 27 years old. They were polar opposites in personality, Gina being more boisterous and outgoing. It’s not that Wally was subdued or introverted, she just wasn’t loud. The tiny, blonde math teacher was, in fact, quite extroverted. She volunteered at the community center downtown, helping with the illiteracy program. She played city league softball, as well as being the high school’s softball coach. She also refereed city league basketball and took martial arts lessons. Unlike her friend, however, she did not date. She thought it was a waste of time, and the free time she did have, she preferred to spend at her computer, working on her math problems. Yes, she was a nerd.

Heaving an introspective sigh, Wally rose out of her chair, gathered the folder she needed and headed off to the principal’s office.

*** *** ***

“No, Howard,” came the resolute response. The voice was low, sultry, deep, husky…and emphatic. Wheatley Fletcher stood at her full, imposing height of 6’2” tall and glared down at her new boss. “I will not give in on this issue,” she growled, now out of patience with the topic.

Howard Dailey dropped his head into his hands and vigorously rubbed his face. Sitting behind his desk, the principal had to crane his neck way back to look into the eyes of his newest teacher. Doing so now, he wasn’t quite quick enough to hide his flinch. When the tall, dark and gorgeous brunette smirked, he just sighed, averted his eyes, and mumbled, “Did you always have that look?”

Wheatley continued to gaze stonily at the man before muttering, “Yes.” She paused then finished in a softer tone, “I just never used it on you.”

The chubby principal sighed heartily and offered up a rueful smile in acknowledgement of their fifteen year old friendship. Rubbing his forehead one more time, Howard plaintively implored, “Please? Can’t you drive the car to school? I mean…give me a break, Fletch! I got you that special clay you wanted, plus all those other art supplies no other art curriculum in the district has! The girl’s team now has the same equipment as the boy’s basketball team, so can’t we compromise here? Leave the fucking motorcycle at home!” The balding man threw himself back into his chair as his voice raised thunderously.

Wheatley’s eyes became chips of blue ice. “No,” she stated flatly as she leaned over his desk. With both hands flat against the surface, Coach Fletcher got right into Howard Dailey’s face and announced coldly, “It’s a deal breaker, Howie.” Wheatley stood back up, turned around and walked out of his office, not bothering to close the door on her way out.

“Goddamn it, Wheat!!” the principal shouted at his empty office, causing the two school secretaries in the outer office to flinch and scramble for something to do to cover their eavesdropping.

Wheatley didn’t even give a backward glance, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on the ground disappearing in front of her. Quick despite her size, the new art teacher and girl’s basketball coach was thrusting open the door to the outer office before Howard ever spoke her name. So intent on controlling her anger, the artist never saw the obstacle in her path…until she ran over it.

“Son of a bitch!” she muttered. “God, I’m sorry,” the tall brunette apologized and knelt down to help the smaller woman up. “Are you okay?”

Wally felt like she’d run into a wall. A very unforgiving, brick one…and she hurt. The wind knocked out of her, she couldn’t even acknowledge the other woman’s words.

Wheatley took one close look at the slight panic in the fallen woman’s slate gray eyes and felt her stomach tighten. “Damn, I’m sorry,” she whispered. She lifted her head and looked around, spotting a darkened office ten feet down the hall. Having no desire to be the center of attention, she wanted to avoid the main office so she made a quick decision and scooped the petite blonde into her arms, stood up and hurried toward the office. “It’s alright, I’ve got you,” she murmured.

Light from the hallway allowed the tall woman to see that the room was actually the school nurse’s office, unoccupied until school began on Monday. Wheat gently placed her burden on a couch in the waiting area before flipping on the lights, silently cursing herself all the while. She turned back toward the couch and knelt in front of the blonde. Not seeing any visible signs of injury, Wheat accurately assumed that the slight figure had gotten the wind knocked out of her. Having seen much of that as a basketball player and coach, she knew there was little she could do to assist. “Try to relax,” she instructed gently. “It’ll be better in a minute. Take slow, even breaths.” When the waif of a girl on the couch did as Wheat advised, she continued softly, “That’s it. Feeling better?” Wally closed her eyes and nodded. She was having a difficult time reconciling the deep voice soothing her now with the steamroller she encountered just a minute ago.

While Wally was contemplating this, Wheat was studying the person she’d run over. Petite didn’t even begin to describe her. She appeared incredibly young, but Wheat could detect a maturity enveloping the slight figure that belied her youth. And though she was reasonably sure the younger woman’s driver’s license would say she was blonde, Wheat couldn’t be sure. It was the palest color of hair she’d ever seen, white almost. It was beautiful actually. In fact, Wheat thought the entire package was absolutely stunning. Shit! None of that kind of thinking, Fletch!, she chastised herself. This isn’t New York. It’s Kansas, for God’ sake! Despite what her inner voice was telling her, Wheat did take a second to note that the blonde was not wearing a ring. Or jewelry of any kind, for that matter. For some inexplicable reason, this pleased her immensely. She was interrupted from her musings when she heard a slight groan.

“Did you get the number?” Wally mumbled.

“What?” Wheat wondered if the blonde had hit her head when she impacted with the ground. She arched an eyebrow in confusion.

Wally turned her head in time to catch the bewilderment coloring the brunette’s features. She started to laugh in amusement but stopped when a twinge caused her to gasp slightly. So instead she merely looked the taller woman in the eyes and stated wryly, “Of the truck that hit me?”

To Wally’s delight, she got to observe those same features color in embarrassment before the brunette ducked her head. Moments later the basketball coach looked up into friendly gray eyes and sighed. She ran a large hand through her hair, ruffling the short locks into disarray. Wally found the action endearing and smiled at the woman. “Wallis Keegan,” she announced, sticking out her hand. “But please call me ‘Wally’.”

Wheat shyly grasped the small hand in her much larger one and replied, “Wheatley Fletcher.”

Wally’s eyes got as big as silver dollars. “Wheatley Fletcher?” she asked weakly. When the tall brunette nodded, Wally sat there stunned, then she smiled. And her smile got bigger until she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Holy shit! Wheatley Fletcher?” Wally sat up and clapped her hands together in delight. “Wheatley Fletcher, the artist?” Another tentative nod. “Oh, my God,” Wally’s jaw dropped, “please don’t tell me you’re the new art teacher?”

Wheatley now found herself in very unfamiliar territory. She was intimidated. And by a waif, no less. ‘How the hell does this tiny woman know who I am? My work has never been shown in Kansas!’ And she didn’t feel like explaining why she gave up her career to come to this god-forsaken backwoods town to teach. Wheat ducked her head down and turned her face away.

Being the genius that she was, Wally immediately picked up on the artist’s discomfort. Instantly remorseful, she placed a comforting hand upon a strong forearm, feeling the muscle ripple in reaction. “Now it’s my turn to be sorry,” she murmured. “It was not my intention to embarrass you. Truth is…I’m kind of…um…I mean I have…uh…I’m a…fan,” she finished nervously. At that acknowledgement, Wheat picked her head up and stared at the smaller woman, her eyebrows disappearing into her hairline. Now Wally felt her own face coloring. Admitting that she was a fan of Wheatley Fletcher’s work was tantamount to admitting that she was gay. “Damn,” she whispered. Furious with herself, Wally dropped her head into her hands and groaned.

To be continued...