The school bell rang just as Boone pulled the door open, pleased that he'd timed that so perfectly. He was quickly surrounded by a seething mass of children as he headed to Andrews' classroom. Sticking his head in the open door, a bit slowly, not sure what the protocol was here, he saw most of the kids milling around the back of the room, Andrew among them, they were stuffing their things into various backpacks and school bags, a few had finished and were sitting at their desks, obviously waiting for their rides.
Andrew was looking back towards the door at him, he'd felt him the minute he'd entered the building and had been watching for him, he shouldered his backpack and headed for Boone. The motion caught the teachers' attention.
"Mister Carlyle." She called. It sounded like he was in trouble, but couldn't figure out how that could possibly be. "I'd like a word with you, please." She continued, the tone of unquestioned authority in her voice, urging his feet automatically up the aisle. At the age of twenty-eight was he really being called to the front of the class, like a disobedient school boy?
He shot a look at Andrew, 'You know what this is about?' he asked him silently.
The boy shook his head and shrugged, 'No.'
He reached her desk, and stood in front of it, at this point still mystified, more than worried. "Yes?" He bit off the ma'am that had been about to follow; after all she wasn't his teacher.
Pamela breathed an annoyed sigh, and shook her head at him slightly. "You should have told me," she scolded.
Boone's heart stopped beating for a second, oh fuck, ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck… he struggled to maintain a somewhat neutral appearance. How had she found out so quickly that his son could read minds? It was the kids' first day, for fuck sakes, Jesus what had Andrew done to give himself away? He couldn't just blurt out for her to keep it a secret, that'd be an invitation to disaster. Maybe he was wrong, maybe she wanted to talk to him about something else, yeah, and maybe pigs could fly. He released the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. "Told you what?" he asked innocently, fearing her next words.
"Boone?" Andrew appeared at his side. "Are you okay?" He'd caught the flash of panic from his father immediately, and had become instantly worried about him.
"I'm fine, Andrew," He assured him, falsely, "Miss Phillips and I are just having a conversation."
Pamela looked at the boy; he was peering at Boone and frowning in concern, she wondered what had brought it on, and why he'd become concerned at all. Then she reconsidered, perhaps it was because his father was the only parent so far with whom she'd requested a meeting.
"Are you sure?" He seemed unwilling to take his fathers' word for it.
"I'm sure, bud." He reassured him again. "You go sit down, I won't be long." At least I hope I won't, Boone thought to himself; although this could really go either way.
Andrew headed back to his seat, glancing over his shoulder at Boone a few times, looking like he was assessing him somehow. Pamela shifted her gaze between the two of them, trying to figure out what was going on. It seemed more than just a case of an insecure student.
Boone swallowed hard and repeated his question.
She refocused on him. "That he's so advanced with reading, writing and math. He's obviously of much more than average intelligence. If I'd known that, it certainly would have made my job a lot easier."
Boone figured you could have knocked him over with a feather; he stared at her dumbfounded, caught so totally off guard by how wrong his assumption had been. He reminded himself that he'd better watch out for Pot Belly's with wings when they went outside.
Pamela stared up at the man, his eyes were wide; his mouth hanging open; he looked stunned. She found herself getting lost in his amazing grey eyes for a minute, before wondering why her answer had produced such an unexpected response from him. Though the news might have been somewhat unexpected, he looked like he'd just been told the boy had a fatal illness, or that he'd just won the lottery. "Mr. Carlyle?" she prompted. He blinked a few times, and seemed to come back to himself.
He tried desperately to adjust his thinking and felt his shoulders relax. "Sorry, I didn't even think of saying anything." He immediately apologized, before the import of what she'd said hit him. "Wait? He's advanced? You said he's advanced?" He was surprised all over again.
Pamela nodded, quirking an eyebrow and trying unsuccessfully to keep a bit of a grin off her face, starting to find his range of emotions and reactions more than just slightly amusing.
"I just let him progress at his own pace. When he wanted to learn more I just taught him. I just figured it was normal." Boone couldn't remember where he'd been at with the basics when he'd started school; he only knew he'd graduated from university quite a few years earlier than was usually expected, though Shannon had barely scraped through high school. He wondered if it was the island influence again, or if Andrew just came by his intellect naturally. Of course he couldn't discount that part of it could easily be attributed to the fact that the kid pretty much lived in Boone's own head.
She had to chuckle at that, and patiently explained that a lot of the other kids in her class still needed to be taught how to print their own names. "You were right to encourage him. I wish more parents took such an active role in their children's education."
"Thanks," he was still trying to absorb the startling revelation, feeling quite a swell of pride. "So, we're done here?"
"Well, no, not really." He really was amusing her, how could be possibly think they were done, when they hadn't even started? "We need to decide how to proceed. I think you should seriously consider letting us advance him to a higher grade," she encouraged.
"No," Boone said, quickly.
"Mr. Carlyle, he'll only be bored in my class," she explained, patiently. "What if he gets turned off of school, because he's not learning anything? It could affect his whole future."
Boone paused for a second, staring at the floor, trying to sort out his thoughts. This had all come completely out of left field at him, and now he was being asked to make a major decision. He couldn't ignore the fact that for some reason his gut instinct had made him blurt out 'no,' and he needed to understand why.
Pamela waited while he mulled things over in his head. From his reaction, it was obvious that this was breaking news to him, she was sure that he was still trying to come to grips with it. Sure, it was good news, but even good news took a while to process. "Look, you don't need to make the decision right this minute, I'm not trying to pressure you, not right this second, but you have to know that something needs to be done, and soon."
Boone raised his head, and nodded to himself, he'd worked it out. "When I came in, all the kids, well…most of the kids, were all together at the back. I couldn't help but notice that Andrew was the smallest one. You move him up, he's going to be even shorter than everyone else."
She opened her mouth to protest that he'd use height as a reason to hold the boy back.
He held up his hand to stop her. "I know that's a lame excuse, just wait, I'm getting to my point." He paused again, "School….school's not just about acquiring facts and learning how to apply them…it's about learning social skills too. I take him to the park, as often as I can, so he can play with kids his own age. But, it's just not often enough; there's only me and I simply don't have the time, I'm a bad father, I know." He hung his head for a second in shame.
Pamela privately disagreed, from what little she'd seen he was actually an excellent father, and she thought Andrew was pretty lucky. Sure it must be hard for him, with only one parent, but the one he'd ended up with was certainly stellar. She wondered again about the boys' mother.
Boone continued, "So he's grown up almost exclusively in the company of adults, I've been concerned about that. He needs to socialize with kids his own age. Now that you've told me how smart he is, I don't want him to become some isolated geek. I'm picturing him with a pocket protector and a piece of tape on the bridge of his glasses." He trotted out the old stereotype. "Can't we just work something out?" There was a note of pleading in his voice. "Maybe split his classes, so he can get the mental stimulation, but still spend time here?"
She started to answer him when Andrew appeared at his elbow again, waiting quietly to be acknowledged, she fell silent after only a few words.
"Hey," Boone looked down at him, his thoughts still mostly on the conversation.
"I'm hungry, Boone," he informed his father.
"Yeah, right, of course you are, I knew that." Boone muttered the last mostly to himself as he patted at his jacket, frowning as he looked for something, finally pulling a plastic baggie out of his breast pocket and handing it to Andrew. It appeared to Pamela to be a selection of dried fruits.
Andrew held the bag up in front of him, examining the contents, when he saw a few pieces in a familiar shape he looked up grinning appreciatively.
Boone had bought the dehydrator several years prior; wary of the stuff you could buy at the store, and the limited range of products. He used it constantly, and figured the thing had paid for itself several times over. The unexpected added benefit was that it allowed him to cater to Andrew's more sophisticated taste for exotic fruit.
He acknowledged the grin, "Yeah, I put the star fruit in it again this time, I know it's your favourite, and bud, good boy for not interrupting," he added.
As Andrew beamed at the compliment, Pamela found herself further impressed by the man, how he could think he wasn't a good father, she couldn't quite grasp.
With a nod of his head to the side, Boone indicated that the boy should go back to his seat. "Thanks, Boone," Andrew said, both for the fruit and the words, and headed back.
He looked back at her waiting for her to continue.
"Split classes?" She echoed his suggestion as he nodded. "You know they don't normally do that until high school, right?" She asked as he nodded again. She had a sudden insight, "They did that with you, didn't they?"
He lowered his head shyly, and nodded again. "Yes," he admitted quietly, not wanting to appear to be boasting.
She suddenly wanted very much to please him, he'd touched her somehow, his humility, his love for his son, the underlying current of melancholy in him, which she automatically attributed to the widowed state she'd assumed for him. She refused to acknowledge that she was undeniably attracted to him. "We'll work something out," Pamela said, decisively. "I'll talk to my colleagues, and the principal, and we'll make this work."
Boone raised his head and smiled at her in appreciation. He had a gorgeous smile, she noted, all sincere and open; it made him look very boyish and appealing. Oh, my god, I did not just think that about one of my children's parents, she mentally berated herself, quickly looking away from him.
As he thanked her, she was already planning ahead. She'd have to talk to Barry, the grade two teacher, and probably Chelsea in grade three, as well as the principal, Mr. Thompson, and the five of them would undoubtedly have to meet to come up with a game plan. She was excited, she'd never had a gifted student before, it kind of fired her up a bit, and reminded her why she'd become a teacher in the first place.
Pamela shook Boone's hand and bid him a good afternoon, watching thoughtfully after him as he paused just before Andrew's desk so the child could fall in before him, and the two of them headed out of the room.
In her apartment, in Barcelona, Shannon was perched on the window seat, her forehead resting against the glass. She'd been sitting there since early evening, thinking, wishing, hoping, but mostly regretting, watching as night slowly blanketed the city. She may have been on the other side of the world, by her own choice, but she thought about her one true love and their son every day, so the significance of the date hadn't escaped her. She knew she wasn't ready to go back yet, and wasn't sure if he'd take her even if she was, or even when she was, knowing full well that her return was inevitable. She breathed a bitter laugh, of course he'd take her back, he couldn't help himself, she bit back a sob, knowing that he was so much better than she deserved.
In a particularly school girl inspired moment, she lifted her forehead off the glass and breathed through her mouth onto it, forming a layer of mist. Reaching up with a forefinger she traced 'S&B 4ever' then drew a heart around it, and added an arrow. The tears threatened again.
The bedroom door opened, "Shannon, we must go now. We might not get in if we don't." An accented male voice sounded behind her.
She quickly wiped her hand across the glass, eradicating what she'd written. She unfolded her long legs and pasted a smile on her face as she stood and turned, "Miguel, don't be ridiculous. Of course we'll get in. Who could resist me?"