See Me After Class(51)

“Ugh, he’s still bitter about it. You can hear it in his voice.”

“I think he’s bitter about a lot of things,” Greer says, giving me a sharp once-over.

“So true. He told me he isn’t dressing up.”

“Coraline,” I say sternly.

“What?” She shrugs. “That’s what you said. I think it’s fair that Greer knows.”

Turning toward me, arms folded, Greer says, “You’re not dressing up?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“You have to.”

“I actually don’t have to do anything,” I say. “Those who want to participate can participate. I am not one of those individuals.”

“Arlo . . .”

“Greer . . .”

We stare each other down. Our eyes flitting back and forth, our jaws clenched. Tension rises, sucking in the air around us, and I’m almost positive if Coraline weren’t here right now, I’d be pushing Greer onto this table to help her better understand.

“Uh . . . as much fun as this staredown is, you two look positively pained,” Coraline says. “Maybe we should stop before someone bursts a blood vessel.”

Ignoring my sister, Greer says, “You’d set a horrible example if you don’t dress up.”

“How so? The students don’t know about it. It’s not like they’re looking forward to me throwing together a mindless costume just for the hell of it.”

“It isn’t for the hell of it,” Greer defends, scooting to the edge of her seat. “This is a way for you, as an educator, to teach your students about the importance of character description, of bringing a piece of their literature to life, to not look like a freaking robot at the front of the classroom all the time.”

“I can do that without dressing up like a fool.”

“Whoa, that’s harsh, Arlo,” Coraline says. “Maybe chill a bit.”

“I’m chill. I’m just not dressing up.”

Greer’s lips twist to the side. “You realize you look like a child, right?”

“Actually”—I smile—“you’re the one dressing up, so you’re the one who’s going to look like a child.” I scoop up my wrapper and crumple it up. “I’m going to the bathroom before lunch ends. Thanks for bringing lunch, Coraline.”

“Yeah, sure, thanks for bringing down the mood.”

I wink at my sister. “Anytime.”

And I leave a steaming Greer behind me.





“Arlo, do you have more than two wine glasses?” Coraline asks from the kitchen, where she’s been rummaging around all night, prepping for the book club at the end of the week.

“No. I don’t have the need to accumulate excessive things.”

“This coming from a bachelor who lives in a six-bedroom mansion by himself.”

“It was about location, not the house,” I say, looking up from my phone, where I’ve been catching up on some current events.

“Sure, that’s what all the rich, single guys say. Do you even plan to have a family?” she asks, coming over to the couch, where she takes a seat on the armrest.

“Someday,” I say casually.

“Really?” she asks, excited. “Like kids and everything?”

I glance up at her. “Maybe.”

She clutches her heart. “Aw, I never thought you had a heart big enough for kids.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Umm, I think just a statement. Wow. So, I’ll be an aunt someday, that’s exciting. Almost as exciting as book club on Friday.” She slides down onto the couch and clutches a throw pillow to her chest. “But I can’t be a good host for book club without an adequate amount of wine glasses.”

“Then go get some.”

“I’ll have to.” She nudges me with her foot. “Hey, thanks for letting me invite the girls over. I’m really excited about it.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Coraline. My house is your house, too.”

“Either way, thank you. I’m so glad I met Greer. She’s pretty awesome and real. God, is she real.” Yeah . . . Greer is real all right. Coraline lifts up and places a quick kiss to my cheek. “I’m going to check out the lighting in the backyard during this hour. I think that might be a good place to hold the meeting.”

“Or just have it here in the living room, like I’ve said a million times.”

“Like you know everything.” She waves her hand at me and then bounces toward the backyard just as my phone buzzes with a text message.

Gunner: Dude, are you really not going to dress up Friday?

Romeo: When I heard the English teachers were all dressing up, I felt a pang of jealousy I wasn’t invited to the dress-up party, but then I realized, you’d be dressing up. Quit playing games with my heart.

Arlo: Don’t you two have something better to do with your lives?

Gunner: Lindsay and Dylan are at his basketball practice. I’m not allowed to go just yet.

Romeo: I don’t have a baby mama, or a child, and I already finished my workout. Not really doing much but catching the Bobbies game. So, no, needling and annoying you seems fitting.