Finding Perfect (Fool's Gold #3)(42)

He glanced at the big clock on the wall. It was a few minutes before noon. Now the hallway was relatively quiet, but in about two minutes the bell would ring and children would explode out of their classrooms and head for the cafeteria.

He knew because he was here most school days. Somehow he’d gotten roped into playing ball with a group of kids during the lunch hour. He didn’t mind too much and he was careful not to spend more time with any one kid. In a group they were great, but he didn’t want any of them getting too attached.

He was willing to get involved—to a point. But some distance was a good thing.

When the bell rang, releasing the kids for lunch, doors opened and slammed into the wall. High-pitched voices broke the silence. In a matter of seconds, he found himself surrounded by a dozen or so boys, all clamoring for him to have lunch with them.

He was about to refuse them all—with the promise that he would meet them on the playground after—when he spotted that skinny redheaded kid. Peter, Pia had said his name was.

“You know my friend Pia,” he told the boy.

Peter grinned. “Yeah. We met in the park. She’s really cool, you know, for a girl.”

“I’ll pass along the compliment.”

“You gonna have lunch with us?” Drew, Peter’s friend, asked. “We’ll save you a seat and everything.”

Raoul hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. I can do that.” Maybe he would get a chance to talk to Peter and find out if there was any kind of a problem at home.

They headed for the cafeteria and got in line. Raoul grabbed a tray with the rest of the kids, then smiled at the older woman scooping out mac and cheese.

“I won’t take any if there’s not enough,” he said.

“Oh, we always make extra. Most of the teachers eat here, too,” she said and dumped a portion of the pasta onto a plate.

Green beans followed, along with fruit. He passed on very green pudding, grabbed two cartons of milk in one hand, then had to hold in a grin as the boys with him tried to do the same.

Their hands were too small to pick up both cartons at once, so they settled for one and followed him to a low table by the window.

He stared for a second, not sure he would fit on the bench, then realized all the tables were scaled down. Kid-size, he thought humorously, wondering if he was heavy enough to tip one. He lowered himself carefully, centering his weight on the bench. Things seemed steady enough.

The kids gathered around him, pushing to sit closer, until he was crammed in on the bench seat. He picked up the first carton of milk, opened it, then drained it in three long swallows. When he set the carton back down, every boy at the table was staring.

He wiped his mouth self-consciously. “So, ah, how are you guys liking the new school?”

“It’s great,” one boy said. “When it snows, my mom says we’re going to have trouble getting up the mountain. Maybe we’ll have snow days.”

“Sweet!” another boy crowed.

“Tell us what it was like when you played football,” a third boy pleaded. “My dad says you were the best ever.”

“Tell your dad thanks,” Raoul said with a grin. “I was good, but I’m not sure about being the best. I always tried to do better. That’s what defines success.”

“I’d like to play football,” Peter said. “But I’m small.”

“You’re not short,” his friend told him. “Just skinny.”

“Don’t worry about being small,” Raoul told him. “You’ll grow. Now’s the time to work on basics. Running, coordination. You can get that from any sport. You can also start learning about the game.”

“I want to play football, too.”

“Me, too!”

Raoul made a note to talk to the principal about starting a spring football program. Nothing too physical—just some practice with kids split into teams. To give them a taste of the possibilities.

“My sister says she wants to play football,” the dark-haired boy sitting next to Raoul said. “I keep tellin’ her, girls don’t play football. But she’s bigger than me and when she gets mad, she hits me.”

A couple of the guys laughed. “Then maybe you should stop saying it,” Raoul suggested.

“I guess. But you could tell her. She’d have to listen to you.”

He held up both hands. “No, thanks. Your sister can do anything she sets her mind to.”

The boy sighed heavily. “That’s what Mom says, too, and Dad just keeps quiet.”

A smart man, Raoul thought.

“My parents are divorced,” the boy on Peter’s right announced. “I live with them on different weeks. They have houses right across the street from each other.”

“How’s that working?” Raoul asked.

“I dunno. It’s kind of stupid. If they can live that close, why can’t they live together?”

“Marriage can be tough,” Raoul told him. “The important thing is that your parents love you. Do you have anyone to talk to, like an older brother or an aunt or uncle?”

“My uncle Carl is really nice. He listens.”

“Then keep talking to him. Don’t let stuff build up inside. That’s never good.”

“My parents are divorced, too,” another boy said.