LITMIR.BIZ

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he’s just bought something you don’t think he can handle?”

      Brett smiled wryly, wondering why he was unloading on Claire. She didn’t seem to mind, though. “He bought something I know he can’t handle, and now he has to be convinced of it before he hurts himself.”

      “Good luck,” she said with a smile. Damn, but she had a nice smile.

      “Yeah,” he said, sobering up. “What favor do you need? Snake removal? Cooler renovation?”

      “I’m joining the quilting club and Regan has a bag of stuff for me at her place. If you’re going to Wesley this week, could you pick it up?”

      “Yeah. I can do that.”

      “Thanks.” She smiled again. “Well, I have a ton of planning to do, so I’ll see you later.” She took a few backward steps before turning around. “Good luck with your boss.”

      “Thanks,” he muttered. He was probably going to need it.

      The next morning Brett made his weekly trip to Wesley, picking up groceries, animal feed, hardware, and vaccines for the new horses. He put off stopping at his brother’s place until last.

      It was close to four when he knocked on the door. It swung open almost immediately, Kylie’s wide smile fading when she saw him. She forced the corners of her mouth back up again.

      “Hi. I thought you were someone else.”

      Obviously. Kylie had grown into a beautiful girl—almost a carbon copy of her mother—which added to Brett’s awkwardness whenever he had to face her alone. Kylie always picked up on the vibe and reflected it back, making their one-on-ones a tad uncomfortable.

      “Regan has a bag of quilt supplies for Claire that I’m supposed to pick up.”

      “Oh. Right. I was wondering what this was.” Kylie stepped back to retrieve a large plastic bag, which she handed to him. For a moment they stared at each other, neither certain of what to say. As usual.

      “Are you coming to watch me ride?” There was a regional 4-H horse show in Elko in two weeks, and Kylie had qualified in several events.

      “Yes, I am.” He made it a point to watch her ride or play basketball whenever he could. It hurt in some ways, but it was a price he was willing to pay.

      “Do you know about the barbecue afterward?”

      “What barbecue?”

      “Regan wanted to have a get-together since Claire is here, so that she can introduce her around.”

      Brett automatically shook his head. “No. I probably won’t be coming.”

      “All right.” Kylie seemed fine with it. Relieved, in fact. Brett felt the usual twinge of regret.

      A truck pulled into the drive behind his, and a kid who looked too young to be driving jumped out. Kylie’s face lit up and Brett felt a stirring of protectiveness. Surely Will wasn’t letting her date already? She was only fifteen.

      “Hi, Kylie. Hi…” The boy’s face contorted in confusion for a second and then he said, “I thought you were Mr. Bishop.”

      “He is,” Kylie said. “This is my uncle.”

      “Oh. Hi. I’m Shane.” The boy extended his hand, and Brett gave him points for manners.

      “Nice to meet you.” He glanced over at Kylie, encountering eyes exactly like his own. “I gotta get going. Nice meeting you, Shane. Bye, Kylie.”

      “See ya.”

      CLAIRE PERCHED ON the edge of her desk, an expectant look on her face. After a few seconds of staring silently, she asked, “Is there a problem with the topic?”

      The students shook their heads, then began writing in their journals.

      Claire waited the full fifteen minutes before asking, “Does anyone want to share?”

      As usual, the students sat staring straight ahead. Even the young ones. They were learning fast. Claire sighed and told the kids to get out their social-studies texts. When she’d informed Brett that she could take whatever these students could dish out, she’d meant challenges such as snakes—not things like a stupefying lack of response. And she was fairly certain it wasn’t too late for the younger kids, that they would respond if it weren’t for fear of being laughed at by the older students.

      What to do?

      Claire drummed her fingers on her desk, then stopped when a few kids looked up at her. She opened her grade book and pretended to study the columns of numbers. The obvious answer was to separate the younger students from the older ones, but she couldn’t do that in the space she had available.

      She thought back to her professors, with all their pie-in-the-sky educational theories. Never once had it been mentioned that she might be faced with kids who simply refused to engage themselves. Kids who did not want to learn.

      Regan had advised her to ignore the stony stares and reward the behavior that met her expectations, but hadn’t mentioned what to do if the behavior of the older kids was tainting the younger ones.

      Claire headed for the office phone. Something had to be done before it was too late.

      Back in the classroom, she told the fifth and sixth graders to go outside for recess. When the older kids also rose to their feet, she asked them to remain. She spoke quietly, but there was no doubt that she meant what she said. The seventh and eighth graders sat back down.

      “We need to talk. You guys are role models for the younger kids. I want to know if you think you’re setting them a good example?”

      They did not even have the grace to appear ashamed. If anything, they looked smug, and Claire felt her anger growing.

      “You guys are acting like a bunch of jerks, and it has to stop. I will not have you ruining the education of the other students. I’ve phoned Principal Rupert, and if this behavior continues, he will be driving out to have a talk with each one of you on an individual basis.”

      Dylan and Ashley both smirked. Toni gave Claire a stony stare.

      “He’s also calling your parents today.”

      Ashley looked unconcerned, but Dylan and Toni paled slightly. So there was some fear. That was good. Maybe there was hope.

      “I don’t hold grudges,” Claire continued. “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones, if you start acting the way you know you’re supposed to act.” She drew in a breath, wondering if the kids knew how much she was winging it. “Instead of recess, I would like you to write about how your behavior is affecting the other kids. Ashley, I want to talk to you privately.”

      “Sure,” the girl said with a toss of her head. She followed Claire out into the hallway.

      “I know you feel safe, Ashley—like no consequence can touch you.”

      The girl smiled.

      “And I want a straight answer. Are you going to set a better example with your behavior? Or are you going to continue as you’ve been doing?”

      “I don’t see anything wrong with my behavior, and neither does my mother.”

      “You don’t see how the younger kids are learning from watching you?”

      She shook her head.

      “Then my only option is to put you where they can’t watch you. Your desk will be in the hall for the remainder of the day and tomorrow, until we talk to the principal. We’ll reevaluate then.”

      “I’m going to sit in the hall?”

      “Yes.”

      “How will I hear what you’re saying?”

      “What would that matter, Ashley? You seem to think you already know everything. Stay here. I’ll

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