I blink at her a few times before snorting and then doubling over laughing. “Did you really just ask me if they were burping and farting in front of me?”
She gives me a droll look. “Like you weren’t worried about it happening before you went there,” she snarks.
“No,” I giggle, “I really wasn’t. It didn’t even cross my mind. And no, there was no belching,” I emphasize the word and bat my eyelashes at her, “or farting. None I’m aware of at least.”
“Okay, but did they do anything gross?” She snaps her fingers and points at me. “How about sexist?”
I roll my eyes and sigh. “I already told you, everyone was nice. I mean, I didn’t get the warm fuzzies from everyone, but Opal’s mom and dad were great and made me feel welcome. Warden is a big guy, but there was a gentle giant thing going on too. He clearly loves Opal.”
Lara gives me a soft smile. “I’m glad you had a good time.”
Her words make me pause because at the time it was simply something to endure. It was a lot to process, and I was overly aware of everything. Everything.
Including the way Snake’s gray eyes followed me everywhere. I haven’t mentioned that to Lara.
My eyebrows pull together and the confession slips free, “I guess I did have a good time. I didn’t mean to.”
The weight of Lara’s hand as it lands on my shoulder is grounding. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s good really,” her words hold a gentle urging which lands in the middle of my chest.
I look over at the table where Vanessa usually sits to do homework after she gets home. But she’s not there today.
“She’s upstairs,” Lara lets me know, “because she wanted to read in peace.”
“That’s the magic of media center day,” I tell her and she grins with a nod.
The bell above the door goes off and we both look over to find Ezra Lyons walking through the door with a grin on her face. She’s already almost drooling over the goods on display. When I get a look at her shirt, my eyes widen.
April showers bring May flowers and Mayflowers bring smallpox.
“They let you wear that one at school?” I can’t help but blurt out the question.
It only makes Ezra’s smile widen. “Is it wrong?”
“Well,” I concede, “technically no.”
“Then they can’t say anything to me,” she finishes with a shrug. “It’s not like there’s a cuss word on it or anything.”
Every time I’m around Ezra, I can’t help but wish I had a teacher like her back in high school. She’s passionate about history, which is what she teaches. It’s clear she cares about her students from the way she talks about them. And she has a sense of humor.
I love her shirts. She has quite a few and whenever I see a new one, I usually end up giggling. They’re always about history andusually make you think. If it helps one of her students appreciate what she’s trying to teach them, I can’t find a downside.
But at the same time, people who rock the boat, even a little bit, are looked down on. Is it possible that she gets away with it because she’s the only daughter Sheriff Raymond Lyons has?
I haven’t seen her use her father’s position for her own gain. But what do I really know? I’m new around here.
“It’s a good one,” I tell her and she does a little curtsey.
We all laugh together as Ezra looks over the display case like she doesn’t already know what she wants. I swear she’s a second away from pressing her face right to the glass to drool over the chocolate chunk cookies. They’re big and perfectly chocolatey. The only thing better than grabbing one is getting one right out of the oven.
“Okay, fine, I’ll have two cookies today,” Ezra sighs and I have to cover my mouth to hide my smile.
Lara bags them up quickly. “You know I’ll always make sure I have cookies for you,” Lara tells her, a slight tease in her voice.
“You know the way to my heart,” Ezra’s tone is serious and grateful.
Just as Lara hands Ezra her change, the roar of a few bikes coming down the road fills the air. Before I spent time at the clubhouse, I would have hidden upon hearing that noise. Now, curiosity fills me and I’m tempted to walk over to the large picture windows in the front of the bakery to see how many there are and who is riding.
But I stop myself because it would be weird.