Page 3 of Wintertime Heat (Holiday 1)

“Call me Abby,” I say, lightly.

When he just looks at me, I pursed my lips, “Lunch duty. Of course. I knew that. As a matter of fact, I was on my way there right now.”

I start walking in a random direction, hoping that’s where the lunch room is.

A heavy sigh, “Other way, Miss Johnson.”

I let Collin guide me to the cafeteria and my eyes widen at the sight, “Am I on lunch duty, alone?”

Collin studies me in a way that gives me the impression that he didn’t really have a very high opinion of my intelligence at the moment, “Would you like a chaperone?”

Yeah, I could already tell that Collin and I weren’t going to be braiding each other’s hair anytime soon.

Gritting my teeth, I give him a forced smile, “I can take it from here.”

Watching him leave, I comfort myself that Scarlett could probably make him cry under five minutes. The knowledge that my best friend could very willingly crush Collin like a bug makes me feel better and I look around at the sea of students.

There was a teacher’s table, I notice. I could see some of the faces that I had been introduced to this morning.

However, I didn’t get the chance to even take a step in their direction because a fight broke out, just five feet away from me.

“You little runt!”

One of the older boys dove toward a much smaller child who was glaring at him while standing in what seemed to be a protective stance over one of his classmates.

“I’m not scared of you, Mason. You’re just a bully. And my dad says bullies are just cry-babies!”

Mason, whom I recognized from my first period class, grabbed the child by his collar, lifting him into the air.

Even as I rushed to break the fight, I couldn’t help but admire the arrogant tilt of the smaller child’s chin, as he sneered at the bully.

“All right. Break it up!” I grab the child and push him behind me. “Mason, go back to your seat. Now!” I growl when he gives me a challenging look.

However, Mason wanted to have the last word and so he mutters something to his small opponent’s classmate, who was still on the ground, making his opponent go red.

The boy darts from behind me, and in a very deft movement, kicks Mason right in the balls.

The older boy drops right there and then, howling in pain.

I stare at the dark-haired boy, who didn’t even bother to stop, moving toward his friend, saying something to him under his breath. His blue eyes were fierce as they look at me, and held no regret, whatsoever.

I sigh, “Go to the nurse’s office, Mason. You’ll live. You, Superman, you go to the Principal’s office.”

The child blinks at the sudden title awarded to him but doesn’t say anything. He just stood up and walked in what I hoped was the right direction.

I watch him leave and then help the other child up. Kneeling down, I brush his pants and wipe the tears from his face. He would be around seven or eight.

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

He rubs his eyes and nods.

The children around us, having sensed that the drama was over, return to their meals. Taking advantage of that, I ask the child, “What’s your name?”

“Noah.” He sniffs.

“All right, Noah. Why don’t we go sit down and you can tell me what happened?”

Noah lets me hold his hand and guide him outside. When he tugs my hand, I look down at him, and he asks, fearfully, “Is Aaron going to get into trouble because of me?”

---