Page 43 of Grinchland
And I allowed myself to think that Silas wanted the same.
“I’ll text you the game plan,” I hurried to say, hoping he believed I wanted to stay in the hall because of our challenge and not because I liked spending time with him—as strange as that was to admit.
“Sounds good.” He paused. “I should go.”
I nodded and motioned toward the classroom behind me. “Me, too.”
He started to turn before he glanced back over his shoulder. “See you tonight, Clara.”
My heart took off racing. This was the first time I’d heard him say my name. It was more exhilarating than I thought humanly possible.
“See you tonight, Silas,” I whispered.
He smiled at me one more time and then made his way down the hall. I didn’t mean to, but I stood there, watching him leave, until he’d turned the corner and disappeared.
I covered my face with both hands and then blew out my breath.
Whatever that had been was dangerous.
There was no way I could allow myself to fall for the Grinch of Grinchland. We were exact opposites. He was water and I was oil. He was ice and I was fire. And yet, right here, right now, none of that mattered.
Right now, all I wanted was to see him again.
Thankfully, a classroom full of wild kindergarteners kept me distracted for the rest of the day. There must have been a full moon, because everyone was off. Even my most even-keeled student was acting out. I tried to keep it together, but when Isaac snapped at Heather during art class, I folded my arms and told everyone that we needed a reset because they were all acting like Scrooge.
Melanie frowned as she raised her hand. “We’re acting like a screw?” she asked.
I blinked at her question. “No, not a screw, Scrooge.” I glanced around at my students, who all had the same blank stares. “Scrooge? Ebenezer Scrooge?” That did nothing to jog their memory. They were all just staring at me like I was crazy.
“It’s from A Chr—” I stopped myself. “A Carol,” I said in an effort to redeem myself.
And then I realized what was going on. These kids had been toddlers when Christmas was banned in Grinchland. There was a reason most of them had no idea what I was talking about, and that reason was Silas.
And then the best idea ever dawned on me.
I waited until all the kids were settled with painting sunsets to slip away to my desk to construct an email. It was short and sweet, and I included every parent plus Maria—I just kept Silas out. He was going to help me.
Dear kindergarten families,
I am planning to put on a play this week with the students. We will be doing A (blank) Carol. I will be finding ways to shorten it due to the time constraints. Please help your students with their parts, and I look forward to seeing you on Thursday for opening (and closing) night.
Ms. Snow
It only took two minutes after sending out the email for Maria to knock on my door. Her eyes were wide as she met my gaze for a moment. And then she turned her attention to the kids, smiling at them as she hurried to my desk.
“What is going on?” she asked, her voice hushed but pointed.
“It’s fine,” I said.
She frowned. “I told you not to involve the school. Silas is serious when it comes to Christmas.”
“That’s why I’m calling it A Carol. I think the story can stand on its own without mentioning Christmas.”
Maria’s eyes just got wider.
I sighed. “I mentioned Scrooge to the kids, and no one knew what I was talking about.” I held up my hands. “Where I come from that is borderline criminal.”
“But, Clara?—”
