Shiny! (24 page)

In fact, it was a whole lot more comfortable over on the porch side of the yard. At the far side of the yard, by the pool, Joey and his two boys with military haircuts and their prim mother (also with a military haircut, but girl style) sort of glared at Will from the spot of shade under the one umbrella.

Will smiled gamely back.

He heard a noise behind him, and Kenny and his mother came through the screen door, each one bearing a tray of buns and condiments, which they put on a picnic table much like Will’s mom’s.

It was a comforting similarity, and it helped dispel some of the discomfort caused by the pristinely white two-story house and the
Better Homes and Gardens
yard.

Will had dressed up a little—a button-down shirt with his cargo shorts—and Kenny had worn about the same thing. Kenny had also slicked Will’s hair back, added a little product, and caught the place under his ear where he frequently missed when he shaved. (He’d had no idea he did this, but Kenny told him it looked like he had a random caterpillar on his face sometimes. Good-
bye
,
self-confidence.)

Kenny’s mother was wearing a casual shell/skirt set out of a Macy’s catalogue, in coordinating colors of khaki and soft rose. It was stunning. Her perfectly dyed and coiffed—yes, coiffed!—blonde hair was pulled up into a chignon, and she wore pearls. For a picnic. Will would have bet her flats were probably from the “picnic” section of the catalogue. Kenny’s father, who was standing at the grill after waving Will off, wore khaki slacks with a belt and a khaki-green polo shirt, tucked in.

Will was starting to get Kenny’s dress sense. He was always wearing a neat little outfit—probably because he’d had to, growing up—but
his
neat little outfit sparkled and danced with colors that he was
not
going to get from the ecru-and-khaki house that sat behind them.

Kenny’s brother and his wife were wearing OD green and khaki. His sons were wearing plain blue T-shirts.

It was starting to give Will the creeps.

So when he saw Kenny coming through the door with his tray after sort of a sheepish “Let me go help Mom” moment, Will was relieved as all hell.

“Here, let me help you!” Even
Will
heard the desperation in his own voice.

“Sorry my brother’s a douchemonkey,” Kenny said, allowing Will to take a plate of pickles and onions off the tray and set it on the table. “Did you offer to help my dad grill?”

Kenny
had
tried to give Will a heads-up, after all.

“Yeah. He said he didn’t need the help.”

Kenny grunted. “Dad, let Will help grill—he’s good at it.”

Will glared at him. “How would you know that?” he hissed, although he’d grilled at his mom’s house and he wasn’t bad. He didn’t burn anything, if that’s what it took to be allowed at the man’s table.

“Because you’re good at everything, and it doesn’t matter—Dad’s not going to let you near the grill anyway.”

“Stop trying to put Will to work,” Mrs. Scalia said with a smile. “Come here, Will, and help me set the table.”

Will looked at her sharply and saw that she appeared to be unaware of the irony, and one more piece of the Kenny puzzle fell into place. Kenny, with his sharp sense of irony, would have largely assumed nobody would get him.

Well, that was good news for
Will
,
who had understood him from “Hence, beer.”

Will had always gotten along with his teachers—it was one of the reasons he wanted to be one—so he was right on that whole “suck up to the mom” thing. He set napkins—the nice lineny paper ones—in the little holders next to the thick paper plates, and made sure there was a water glass next to every plate.

He finished the simple task and looked up into Mrs. Scalia’s smiling face. She had tiny pixie-ish features, while Mr. Scalia had a blunt, wide, prototypical masculine face, and Will was sort of glad Kenny had gotten her nose and cheekbones.

Joey did not attract him
at all
.

“Nicely done, Will. You must be a joy to your mother.”

Oh geez—if that wasn’t the classic teacher response. Suddenly Will felt like a big awkward middle schooler again, and he blessed Kenny for not exposing him to this before he’d turned in his apartment key.

“Well,” he replied, feeling lame, “I
do
mow her lawn.”

“And ours,” Kenny supplied perkily. “His mom and aunt Cara even helped us with the flower beds in the back.”

“Don’t interrupt, Kenny. I’m talking to Will.”

Kenny met his eyes in the classic “Dude, I tried!” grimace, and then Will was back on the barbecue, without even some turkey-burger-scented smoke to make the whole thing feel better.

“So, Will, I understand you’re a teacher.” Her practiced smile invited him to finish that thought.

“Yes, I actually
have
a job lined up for fall semester, but, uhm.” He looked at Kenny again, who reassured him with a look of sympathetic patience. “I’m still debating whether or not to take it.”

“Really? Why wouldn’t you take a job?” Suddenly that teacher’s serenity seemed to be penetrated by real curiosity, which relieved him mightily.

“Kenny, uhm, doesn’t really believe I’m public-school material,” he said apologetically and inwardly winced when he saw Mrs. Scalia turning toward her son with reproof.

“Kenny! Why would you say such a thing?”

Kenny, bless him, stood his ground. “Will’s like me, Mom,” he said almost defiantly. “He doesn’t really fit in the public education box.”

Will was suddenly subject to the gimlet glare of a veteran battle-ax, and Mrs. Scalia’s position at the table even cut him off from Kenny’s sympathetic glances.
Thanks a lot, Kenny. You couldn’t have seen that bus coming?

“He looks perfectly average to me,” she said, and Will wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

“He’s
not
average,” Kenny said passionately. “He’s
superlative
.
He’s
amazing
.
He’s way too fantabulous for school.”

Will watched that teacher’s mouth compress, and he cringed, and then something complex and soft happened around Mrs. Scalia’s eyes. “Okay,” she said simply. “I’ll take your word for it, Kenny. But remember, it’s hard to pay the bills without a job.”

“Oh, he has a job!” Kenny said excitedly. “He’s a web designer and—” He swallowed and looked embarrassed. “Tell them, Will.”

Will smiled greenly and started talking about website designing, which really, when he thought about it, was a
lot
less interesting than talking about teaching, even if it was more exciting to do sometimes. While he spoke, Joey came and helped Mr. Scalia with the grill, and Mrs. Joey and the two boys moved from their chilly remove to sit at the table. Kenny’s mom continued to grill him. Income, business expansion—she asked it
all
.

And then it happened. The subject. The “What happened to your
last
teaching job?” subject.

They were seated around the table by this time, and Will had just chomped down on an
outstanding
turkey burger, which he’d decked out with jalapeños, since they were an option, as well as tomatoes, pickles, grilled onions, and Thousand Island dressing. Kenny’s mom did a hamburger bar
right—
but that didn’t mean Will wasn’t caught flat-footed.

“Mm gob frd fr tmmin Hrrm Pommr.”

Kenny burst out laughing and turned to him with a napkin. “She’ll let you eat first, precious,” he said kindly. “But don’t worry—I’ll take this one.” He turned to his mom. “He was working at a conservative church school and he let the students read Harry Potter in their spare time.”

Mrs. Scalia grimaced. “Oh, honey—you didn’t even have a union to protect you!”

Will swallowed the last of his bite. “I am aware,” he said drily.

“Why would you do that?” Joey asked from across the table. He’d been largely silent—and, well, productive. He was probably on his third burger by now, while Will was still on his first. Given that Will had five inches and probably forty pounds on him, Will was impressed.

“Why would I what?” Will asked, wanting another bite of his burger.

“Why would you risk your job teaching some stupid fantasy book?”

“Because alternative universe literature promotes critical thinking, imagination, empathy, and creative problem solving. Children who are fluent in fiction are more able to interpret nonfiction and are better at understanding things like basic cause and effect, sociology, politics, and the impact of historical events on current events. Many of our technological advances were imagined by science fiction writers before the tech became available to create them, and many of today’s inventors were inspired by science fiction and fantasy to make a world more like the world in the story. Many of today’s political conundrums were anticipated by science fiction writers like Orwell, Huxley, and Heinlein, and sci-fi and fantasy tackle ethical problems in a way that allows people to analyze the problem with some emotional remove, which is important because the high emotions are often what lead to violence. Works like Harry Potter tackle the idea of abuse of power and—”

Will stopped himself and swallowed.

Everybody at the table, including Kenny, was staring at him in openmouthed surprise.

“Anyway,” he said before taking a monster bite of his cooling hamburger on a sudden attack of nerves, “iss goomfer umf.”

“It’s good for us,” Kenny translated, sounding a little stunned.

Will couldn’t look away from his hamburger. Oh God. Kenny’s initiation into the extended family had been
easy
compared to this. He swallowed the bite in two gulps and then looked around the table sheepishly.

“Sorry. I, uhm, got a little passionate.”

Joey and his family looked blank—they were probably still back on Will’s second sentence. But Mrs. Scalia and her husband were both eyeing him thoughtfully.

“Too fantabulous for school,” Mrs. Scalia repeated and then looked at her son. “Kenny, I think you might be right.” Then she turned to Kenny’s brother. “So, Joey, I understand you’re trying for another one? Think you’ll get a girl this time?”

Joey turned red and started to stammer, and Will let out a real breath for the first time in about five minutes. Next to him, Kenny patted his thigh.

“Sorry,” Will muttered under the table chatter, and Kenny set his burger down long enough to kiss Will’s shoulder in blessing.

“You’re so damned brilliant,” he said fervently. “Don’t let them give you any shit about making money, sweetheart—I think you just impressed the hell out of them.”

“Kenny, did you just swear at the dinner table?” Mrs. Scalia asked, because damn, she must still have her teacher ears on.

“Sorry, Mom!” Kenny sang, and then he picked his burger up with a little wink at Will. He was right—Will
did
eventually
get the grilling about whether he could help with the bills and not take advantage of their son’s generosity, but since Will worried the same thing, he didn’t mind so much.

They were just looking after their son, and Will was all for that. Anyone looking after Kenny had the same priorities he did.

A
MONTH
later, as a broiling August faded into a sapphire September blue morning, Will waved to Kenny from the porch as Kenny left for work. Kenny kissed him on the cheek before he walked to the car and said, “Don’t worry so much about cleaning house, okay? We can both do that. You’re working your ass off—don’t think I don’t see it.”

Will smiled sheepishly. He was having trouble remembering that he
worked
from home. He’d garnered enough new clients to make what he’d made teaching, and that was pretty awesome, but even better, he’d had time to work on the website for
Terra’nair: The Chronicles of Calandra.
They had almost a complete graphic novel ready, and most of their pages uploaded. They hoped to get people hooked on the first chapter of the graphic novel and then to start producing merchandise. If they made enough money on the merchandise, they would self-publish the novel and start selling copies at the next convention. It was… it was
amazing
that they would be doing this.

Will woke up every morning with Kenny in his arms (and Princess the cat swishing her tail over his face), wondering how exactly he’d managed to live this sort of amazing life—but he knew.

He had taken a leap of faith.

He’d struggled with that decision—it had been brutal. After dinner with Kenny’s parents, they’d started unpacking his apartment and sorting stuff to throw away, and… well. Memories.

The file of student assignments from his first student-taught class, notes from kids from his first short-lived job—hell, the forbidden results of the dinosaur dioramas he’d had the fifth graders from Blessed Hymn Elementary do. He’d kept all of them, because he’d loved getting them, and as he’d prepared to stack them all into the box of things to throw away, his heart stuttered.

“What?” Kenny looked up from uploading his CDs into the iTunes cloud so they could put the actual discs into storage with Will’s furniture.

“I really loved getting these,” he said, looking at the rather pathetic pieces of cardboard, paper-mache, and glue. “I mean, the kids really loved doing them, and I felt like I was doing something important.”

Kenny stopped and stood up, his hands moving restlessly and helplessly at his sides. “I’ll bet you’re an amazing teacher,” he said simply. “You know, you could go back. There’s nothing wrong with the job, Will. Just….” Kenny swallowed. “I mean, I met you, and you were so sad. The job… it
rejected
you. Do you think I’m not mad at it? It hurt you before I met you.”

Will sighed, gazing sightlessly into the box. He got angry every time any sort of political bill involving teachers came up. He voted to raise his taxes at every opportunity, because he believed in education. But when he hadn’t been at the private school, his classroom had been overfilled. Thirty-five kids that age stuffed into a classroom—it had been like wrestling grunion. When they got a little older, that included the sex hormones too. He’d watched kids who were perfectly capable slide lower and lower in their abilities because nobody could get to them—not him, not any of the volunteers. There were just too many of them, and they needed too much.