Chapter 18: The Prankster
Candidate Two.
The line of SUV's, minivans and sedans inched forward in front of Alfred L. Carson Elementary school. Wicus spotted Charlie Anderson on the open portal as the young teaching assistant climbed out of a shiny red BMW. A graduation gift from his parents.
Charlie’s hand carefully brushed a lone leaf off the hood that was pinned near the windshield wipers, the vehicle was clearly his pride and joy. Pressing a button on the key fob in his hand, there was an instant, loud beep as the young man locked the car before jogging forward to take up his position by the side gate.
Wicus had watched Charlie engage in the morning ritual before. Every Monday through Friday, except for school holidays and summer break, parents would slowly drive in the front gate, stop at the sheltered entrance of the building and drop their kids off for class.
Those who rode buses had to enter through the double doors on the side of the school. It was a shorter walk to the classrooms but there was a larger number of kids.
Occasionally some of the more adventurous ones tried to sneak around to the front of the building to play in the fountain before classes started. The principal didn’t like kids showing up waterlogged, that’s one of the reasons Charlie and his counterpart were on duty.
Right now the fountain was gurgling merrily, spraying steadily out of the two elephant trunks that adorned the center of it. Water cascading down their rounded sides into the pool below. The concrete behemoth -- a gift from the widow of Alfred Leroy Carson, former wildlife photographer, the school’s benefactor and namesake.
Wicus remembered the couple well, as he had set up the soul mates’ meeting. Both were primaries. The widow didn’t live long enough to meet her secondary. The Carsons never had children. Needless to say, the widow went a bit overboard with the endowment before she passed away.
The basin of the jetted eyesore was just the right size for dipping toes and elbows, not to mention backpacks and pigtails. Currently though there was not a wet adolescent in sight.
Oops, scratch that, Wicus mused. Watching the scene unfold-- hidden from the participants.
A look of alarm crossed Charlie’s face.
“Raymond climb down from there!” he called out to a fair haired boy who was standing on the apron of the fountain.
Seeing who was calling, Raymond’s mouth dropped open in protest. A mixture of determination and mischief on his pale, young face.
Charlie’s lips closed in a firm line, his fair brows pushed together. The stern expression was unquestionably meant to look intimidating.
Not the easiest trick for Charlie to pull off, Wicus mused. Hearing the entire exchange above the noise of the bubbling water. The teaching assistant was graced with a slim build and a handsome face that was constantly smiling and making others do the same.
“I wonder how many times he’s practiced that look in the mirror,” Wicus mumbled. Looking mean was something that Charlie had to work at.
Raising one hand, the teaching assistant pointed to the building, “Inside!” he hollered.
Raymond sighed and climbed down, his little shoulders hunching together as he picked up his discarded Captain America knapsack and pushed his arm through one of the straps. Kicking at the ground as only a frustrated schoolboy caught-in-the-act can. He sulked toward the front entrance.
Watching the boy’s retreat, Charlie’s mouth twitched. A small snort escaped as he clearly fought to control the smile that threatened to break out on his irreverent mug. His blond head shook lightly.
Wicus studied the secondary candidate, bemused. Charlie’s leaving quite an impression on the students, he decided. Good or bad was debatable, especially given some of the more questionable escapades Charlie’s pulled. This one is quite a prankster.
Recalling the disapproval that had registered on the face of Janet Allen, the teacher-mentor Charlie worked with -- amidst the one last week. For the most part she seemed to enjoy Charlie’s enthusiasm and didn't dictate how everything in her third grade class should be done. Much like she did for the kids, she encouraged him to be creative and imaginative.
The teaching assistant obviously loved the school and the kids.
Wicus heard the animated babbling of a batch of new arrivals. He watched as Charlie’s lively hazel gaze shifted to the group of children. They crossed the busy street under the guidance of the crossing guard. That same gaze followed them as they entered the grounds.
Charlie scrubbed a hand across his face. His fingertips stopped upon encountering a little stubble on the side of his chin. Fingers rubbing the same area repeatedly. His brow creased in consternation.
Clearly he missed a spot while shaving this morning, Wicus thought. But he doesn’t look that haggard. His appearance is nowhere near as fatigued-looking as Josh’s. There were circles under Charlie’s eyes. They’d been getting steadily worse over the passing weeks. His pallor was not sallow. He’s definitely handling the retrofitting better than the primary. Yet neither candidate could seem to catch up on their sleep.
In the background of the portal, Wicus spotted a familiar face; Elle Hottinger. Now there’s a woman who’s had a difficult time of it, meeting and losing first her primary and then her secondary soul mates within a few years of each other. Look at what’s become of her, he mused.
She stood at the building's entrance, edging back out of the way, dodging four little boys chasing after one another into the entrance who came a little too close, frowning as she did so.
“Slow down, don’t run!” she scolded.
Their footsteps immediately slowing.
Clad in a gray cardigan sweater, sensible brogues and long plaid skirt, her hawk-eyes watched as each kid climbed out of the back seat of his or her car and headed into the school. Her face was heavily lined with creases running from her nose to chin, accompanied by marionette lines on either side of her jowls. Gray hair swept in a tight bun low on the back of her head and no makeup except for bright red lipstick on her thin, too often pursed, lips.
That’s what they were doing now, forming one red wrinkled line.
She’d evidently missed Raymond’s attempted stunt.
Charlie’s shout caused her to turn around, alerted to the boy’s mischief. Her pinched stare scrutinizing the now approaching eight-year-old with an intent gleam.
The boy wisely kept his own gaze averted.
On his side of the portal, Wicus grinned, Elle’s one stubborn cookie.
It was apparent that the boy thought she was a lot more terrifying than Charlie, cutting his eyes to the side to hazard a peek only after he’d passed her location. Tiny feet picking up speed as if propelling him out of real harm’s way.
Charlie raised his arms, folded at the elbow, balled fists pressing against his shoulders in an unmistakable attempt at stifling a yarn. A smile still playing about his lips, Charlie watched as Raymond scurried out of sight into the building’s dark interior.
Elle Hottinger’s eyes coolly met his from across the schoolyard and rested there a moment. Her head nodded stiffly in acknowledgment then went back to perusing the children.
“What kind of name is Hottinger,” Charlie mutter aloud, not without humor. “She’s anything but Hot. Not that I look all that good… at least not lately.” Glancing down at his slacks, he appeared to be taking inventory of his appearance. One hand brushed across the fabric on this thigh, stopping to tug at an errant crease in the pants-leg.
His clothes are not exactly wrinkled, Wicus thought. This one hates getting dirty, he recalled. The young man looks presentable enough. Logical as the argument was, it didn’t halt the pang of remorse that Wicus felt. It was his fault that Charlie wasn’t getting the rest that he should. Still, it must be done.
He’d noticed over subsequent retrofitting sessions that Charlie had replaced his alarm clock four times, in addition to setting the alarm on his phone.
Wicus made a face. His earlier smile vanishing into a
thoughtful grimace. Doubtless Charlie’s aware that something’s going on with his alarm and trying to correct the problem. Only finishing the job with do that, he thought. Worried. Emily Wren will have her soul mate.
The atmosphere was full of promise and expectancy as the new school day prepared to start, even if Wicus didn’t echo it. Flashing his eyes back to the portal to study Charlie some more.
"Ding ding da ding...ding ding da ding..." the ring-tone on Charlie's phone was playing the Mister Softee jingle.
An abashed expression quickly crossed the teaching assistant’s face. Hazel eyes sweeping from side to side, evidently looking for witnesses to his transgression.
“Hmmph, this should be interesting,” Wicus muttered gruffly, eyes intent on the unfolding action. He expanded the size of the portal with a flip of his fingers.
Technically, the rules said teachers must have their phones on silent while on school grounds, not that Charlie was one to be pinned down by guidelines.
Charlie reached into his pocket, pulled it out, pressed the ignore button and slid it back out of sight.
Several kids who had entered the school grounds pivoted around at the melody not looking at Charlie, their vision focused on the street.
"I tell you I heard the ice cream truck," said one brown haired boy adamantly.
Charlie struggled to hide a grin.
"I heard it too," agreed another, looking through the fence to see where it went.
"It's too early...he doesn't come out this early," argued a little girl with cute blonde curls, she too poked her face between the iron rods of the fence, just in case.
The portal followed Charlie as he turned to covertly watch the kids.
From his vantage point, Wicus could see Charlie and the person coming up behind him.
“Uh oh, Here comes trouble…let’s see how Charlie handles this,” Wicus whispered, watching the portal like one might view their favorite T.V. show.
"Morning kids... Don't hang out at the fence...run along now...go to your classes," urged Principal Niobe with an air of official objection. They obediently ran inside.
Charlie looked startled. He clearly hadn't seen her come his way.
She turned her assessing gaze on him.
He visibly stood up straighter, a genial smile on his handsome face, not that it hid the sudden alarm in his hazel eyes.
This kid’s nearly as transparent as Emily is, Wicus mused. His fascination for reading the expressions of humans -- peaked.
“Principal Niobe...don’t you look snazzy...is that a new suit?” Charlie asked, undeniably affecting as much veneration as he could quickly muster.
He was a bad actor, Wicus thought wryly avidly staring at the portal.
Principal Niobe’s brown brow cocked in response to her employee’s overt attempt at flattery, clearly she though so too. "Good Morning Mr. Anderson. Are you having a bit of fun with my students?" she asked. Glancing at the children as they headed to the entrance then back at Charlie.
"Sorry Mrs. Niobe...darned forgetful of me... I usually have it on silent while I'm here," he lied persuasively.
"That's an interesting ring tone.... You've got a reputation as quite a prankster."
Charlie chuckled, "It’s all in good fun."
“Uh huh,” her utterance audibly relaying that that was a point of debate. Her finely arched brows pulled a little closer together, ebony eyes studying his face.
"How are you doing today...are you getting enough sleep?" she asked kindly, plainly not thinking that he was.
He looked at her blankly for a moment.
"I'm perfectly fine," he lied again, making his handsome face quite sincere.
“Holy moly,” Wicus said in mild surprise, nodding his head ruefully on the other side of the portal.
Charlie's a lot better at lying than Emily is, he noted. Contemplating a possible future for Emily with this secondary candidate. Extremely independent by nature, Charlie never seemed to mind being one of the schoolyard monitors.
Emily’s independent too. That’s something else they have in common. She could learn a lot from Charlie. His natural strengths and weakness would be a nice compliment to hers.
Wicus continued to monitor the conversation in the schoolyard.
If the principal expected more of an answer, it didn’t come. The pair stood quiet several seconds watching as a woman with brassy red hair, obviously a mom, wearing a yellow, butt covering tunic, yoga pants and sneakers, walked her son across the street with the latest group of children to go with the crossing guard who wielded his STOP sign like a shield.
Their advancement heralded by a volley of giggles, yelps and murmurs as the children talked incessantly -- more than making up for their own silence. The redhead nodded at both in passing after entering the gate. Mother and child heading directly to the main entrance. The others following like a haphazard line of ducklings.
"I've noticed you've been looking a little tired... I hope Mrs. Allen isn't working you too hard," the principal persisted. Her expression open and kind.
"Janet, I mean Mrs. Allen is wonderful," gushed Charlie. He blinked several times rapidly.
Clearly he’s trying to come up with another lie, Wicus thought, reading the teaching assistant’s expression with uncanny accurately.
"I've been catching up on my reading, burning the midnight oil, that's all," Charlie said.
And there is it, Wicus mused.
Charlie’s fabrication plainly worked. The twinge of uneasiness receded from the principal’s eyes.
There was a look of relief in Charlie’s. He stood there with a faint smile on his face, hazel eyes darting to the side as several more children clattered through the gate heading for the building.
"Ah, all right...as long as you're okay Mr. Anderson," the principal glanced at her watch all business, then said, "The first bell is about to ring... Get your students inside, please."
"Yes, Ma'am,” he agreed. Turning to the students, he called out, “Come along...kids... time to get to class."
Wicus watched as Charlie waved for the stragglers outside the fence to come inside.
Principal Niobe smiled at the teaching assistant once more before walking back to the front entrance.
The hazel gaze followed her. Nearby another little boy flew past Hottinger too closely. Snagging the young man’s collar with her bony talons, she pulled him up short, “Watch where you’re going.”
“Ah, Mrs. Hottinger, it’s his fault---”
The little boy raised a small hand to point at the group of lads just inside the doorway. Four or five heads turned back in apprehension.
“We didn’t do nothing---” one argued.
“Don’t talk back...off to class with ALL of you,” she interrupted crossly, what Wicus was positive would have been an amusing dispute.
Another involuntary yawn escaped Charlie’s lips.
Seeing it, Wicus felt another stab of shame. He really needed to get this retrofitting finished and allow both candidates some time to recuperate fully. He faced a dilemma, knowing that he also couldn’t rush the job. It had to be done right.
Charlie’s head swung left and right. Undoubtedly making sure that Principal Niobe was nowhere in sight. She wasn’t, the principal had gone back inside. He pulled out his phone. Pressing the record button, he said, “Call mom after work.”
Slipping it into his pocket, Charlie entered the building.
The portal and Wicus following his movements.
Two kids on the verge of a fight were standing in the hallway. Robbie Cole was pulling Lucy Vincent's hair, teasing her as she squirmed.
“Cut it out Robbie,” she threatened.
The little boy grinned in enjoyment, distinctly pleased that she’d said his name, his overall countenance beaming -- no doubt thinking that he was a clever boy.
Oh dear, Wicus thought recognizing Robbie. The boy was in Mrs. Allen’s class. He’s a sweet kid if somewhat dimwitted about the opposite
sex. The lad wasn’t due to meet his soul mate for quite a few years yet.
Robbie followed the girl around like a puppy. Lucy, on the other hand, was clueless and a little feisty. She'd sock Robbie if he didn't stop bothering her soon.
It was clear to Wicus that the boy liked Lucy. “He’s awfully young to be falling for a barren,” he said in disapproval, clicking his tongue, “Tsk, Tsk, Tsk.”
He could tell from the sudden look of understanding and humor on Charlie’s face that he knew it too.
The teaching assistant interrupted.
"Hey there, Robbie, Lucy... go to your classrooms," Charlie instructed in an officious-sounding tone, slightly mimicking the principal.
The little girl immediately ran down the hall. Plainly embarrassed by the older man’s intervention. Her flaming cheeks a nice complement to her flaxen locks.
Robbie took a step forward and stood by the doorway of the classroom looking after her like he'd lost his best friend.
"Buck up Robbie, you can play with her at recess, but don't pull her hair, okay? Girls don’t like that."
Robbie’s ginger brows furrowed suspiciously, “Are you sure? She knows my name now...today she said it.”
The seven-year-old puffed out his small chest proudly, casting a glance at Charlie before returning to the retreating figure.
Charlie emitted a slightly amused kind of snort. The expression on his face was priceless. Had he ever been that young and stupid? It seemed to say.
“Yes, I’m positive.”
"Okay Mr. Anderson," young Robbie reluctantly agreed sounding skeptical -- clearly not believing that particular observation.
Charlie patted the small tow-haired boy's head, gently nudging him forward. The two of them walked into the classroom together. Several other kids ran around them to get to their desks.
Once more Charlie’s mouth opened widely as he inhaled deeply, undeniably battling tiredness.
From his side of the portal Wicus stared. Appalled. Frustrated by the knowledge that what he saw would not alter the course of his duties. Still, it didn’t mean that he liked it.
Mrs. Allen entered the classroom and clapped her hands together garnering everyone’s attention, including his.
"Children get in your seats... are you ready to learn?" she asked.
A few stragglers rushed to comply, as short arms and legs navigated the tricky moves required to climb into the plastic chairs.
"Yes, Mrs. Allen," came the chorus of tiny, sweet voices.
It was time for class to begin.
Time for little minds to learn.