Page 51 of A Royal Menace

I delete the email as fast as my hand can move the mouse, then I open my trash bin and delete it from there, too, permanently erasing it. Popping out of my chair, I stride to the door and march myself over to Royal’s classroom. He looks up with a smile that falters the second he sees my expression.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning forward in his chair as I approach.

I look over my shoulder to make sure no one is eavesdropping at the door before hissing, “You can’t send stuff like that through our work emails. They could be monitored. You should delete it from your sent folder right now.”

I see the battle rage across his expression as he internally debates whether to tease me for being paranoid, but he must sense the danger in provoking me right now, so he simply nods and looks at his computer screen. His hand moves the mouse, then his finger left-clicks before he nods again and looks back up at me.

“Done.”

“Thank you,” I say, some of the tension draining from my shoulders. “I’m sorry I freaked out. I just…”

“It’s okay,” he says when my words trail off. “You were right.”

My lips tug upward, and my mood lightens. “Can you say that again?”

He grins back at me. “Nope. That’s the only time you’ll hear those particular words from me.”

“That’s okay. Once was enough for me.”

He smiles at me for a moment, then his face brightens. “We should just exchange phone numbers. It’s kind of weird that we haven’t before now.”

He’s right. Most of the teachers here have each other’s numbers, especially those that teach the same grade and work as a team. Royal and I haven’t actually worked as a team untilrecently, and our previous contention prevented us from getting that personal.

“Good idea,” I say.

“Can you say that again?” he teases, throwing my own words back at me as he pulls out his phone.

“Shut up,” I say with a grin, then recite my phone number so he can save it in his phone.

As I tell him the last two numbers, his face scrunches into a deep frown. He seems to freeze, only his chest moving as he breathes roughly through his nose. I tilt my head and copy his frown.

“What? What’s wrong?” I ask, and he reanimates, locking his phone screen and looking up at me with a smile that seems a bit forced.

“Nothing,” he says. “I was just thinking we should use Cackle instead of texting.”

Cackle is a social media site where people can post their thoughts, pictures, or videos. I have an account, but I rarely use it except to check on my sister’s beef with Bodacious Buckaroo, since that’s the platform they mostly battle on.

“Cackle?” I ask, confused.

“Yeah,” he says, a little too quickly. “We can DM each other on there, and the alerts aren’t as annoying as text message alerts.”

I open my mouth to question him further, because let’s face it, this turnabout is just plainweird, but before I can speak, the sound of sneakers squeaking against tile echoes from out in the hallway. Royal stands to go greet his students at the door with their silly handshakes, so I just nod and lead the way, giving him a little wave before I head to my own classroom.

The day goes by quickly, and at lunchtime, I check my phone to see an alert that Royal Manning followed me on Cackle. I openthe app and follow him back, and a second later, a DM pops up that just says “hi.”

I stare at the single word for several long beats. I mean, I know teens these days mostly communicate this way, but we’re adults. Why doesn’t Royal want to just text? Hell, he didn’t give me his number this morning after I gave him mine, and he seemed really off.

It’s giving red flag vibes, and I kind of hate it.

My phone vibrates in my hand as a video pops up beneath the word “hi.” I tap it, and the screen fills with a fat white cat preparing to jump from a bed to the dresser two feet away. But when it leaps, it only travels about four inches before dropping to the floor and out of sight of the camera. A new message pops up beneath the video, and I laugh when I read it.

RoyalMan: Me, trying to get out of bed this morning after this weekend.

I type back, thoughts of red flags slipping away as my grin hurts my cheeks.

CalliopeB: Same, girl. Same.

RoyalMan: Ha! Lunch in my room?

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