Sometimes we all need a break.
Namely, me. I need a long break from Nisha and her decorating committee from hell.
It is Thursday, a day before of the dance and the "Minor details that we'll take care of on Thursday" as Nisha put it, have come to bite us in the behind.
The DJ that Nisha procrastinated booking is booked by a different school, somebody needs to decide on the various fruit punch flavors and snacks to set up and I'm hiding out in the Janitor's closet from Nisha and half of the decorating committee. Because suddenly, it's all my fault.
I liked Nisha, I really did—even after she decided she didn't need my help planning the dance, which I actually appreciated later—right until she decided to dump all her duties on my head about an hour ago.
"How can I put this lightly," I tell Indrek on the phone. "Nisha is a bitch."
Indrek stifles a laugh. "Should you be saying that on school grounds? Isn't it, well, illegal?"
I snort. "Everyone is thinking it. Even Ronald mutters it from time to time," I add with an eye roll.
"Ah, Ronald. The Deputy you've began to fancy," Indrek says blankly.
I should be noting his tone of voice, but my mind snags on his use of the word 'fancy'. So… not Kenyan.
"Isn't fancy too strong a word? All I said was that he's cute," I point out. I realized the mistake I made the first time I mentioned Ronald to Indrek, but now I seem to have lost all sense.
"Of course you'd call him cute. He's tall, darker and what's that last trait, again?" Indrek asks.
"Not my type?" I offer.
"Kayla, dear, we do not lie to our best friends," he scolds.
I gasp. "I would never lie to Lily!"
"How you wound me," Indrek says dryly. "We are best friends and you know it. Hell, I'll prove it,"
"You can try," I tell him.
"I know about Nisha," he says. I can picture him counting off on one hand.
"Everybody knows about Nisha. The bus driver knows about Nisha. Even the guy who delivered my pizza yesterday knows about her," I point out.
"You probably don't want to keep mentioning her, you know. Summoning the devil and all," he says.
"I've got a bottle of holy water at the ready," I respond. "You know, to ward her off,"
He sighs, but I can hear the quiet chuckle under his breath. "I see through your clever distraction," he says.
"Whatever would I distract you from, dearest Henry?" I ask him sweetly.
"What is your type?" He asks.
I blink, blindsided by the question. "Oh. Friendly, I guess. Kind and toxic apparently," I say.
"It was one bad relationship," he says.
"And it traumatized me. I shouldn't even be talking about this," I say. "At all. There's a dance to plan,"
"I thought you had washed your hands of it," he points out.
"True," I nod. "Yet I'd rather torture myself with one more day in Nisha's orbit than-"
"Talk relationships with me?" Indrek asks.
"I was going to say subject myself to the smell of ammonia, actually," I say, crouching to pick up a bottle. "I just accidentally spilled some and it reeks. What do janitors use it on, anyway?"
"Beats me," he says. "Maybe Ronald knows,"
I roll my eyes. "Envy is unbecoming of you, Henry. It gives you wrinkles,"
"What did I do?" He asks.
"Nothing at all. Definitely not exhibiting signs of envy, nope," I say.
"I'm not jealous of Ronald," he seethes.
"Of course not, love," I tell him. "How about you tell me all about your lack of jealousy later? The smell here might make me faint. Kisses and toodle-oo!" I say, hanging up. I swing open the door to the Janitor's closet and make my way to the social hall, where the harpies are waiting to feast on my carcass.
Nisha and her squad (ick!) are sitting at the stage, chatting amiably while other students run around, busy. I spot Patric by the photo booth and make my way towards him.
"You're late, Miss K," he says through a smile.He only looks about twenty percent high today, which is saying a lot since his usual is a hundred.
"I was collecting the last pieces of my sanity," I tell him. "Should I lend you a couple?"
"Can't," he says. "Rani will shred them," he uses his chin to point at Nisha.
I found out that 'Rani' is a nickname all the students have for Nisha, apparently because she acts like the queen of the school.
I discreetly glance up at the stage. Nisha doesn't seem to remember that she should be helping.
"Did she book a DJ yet?" I ask.
Patric shrugs and I know that I've lost him.I climb up to the stage to talk to Nisha.
When she notices me in her presence, her friends, Tweedledee and Tweedledum scatter like flies.
"Miss Kay. How's everything?" She asks with a faux smile.
"As well as can be," I tell her. "Did you find a DJ?"
"I thought you said you were on it," Nisha says.
I dig my nails into my palms to keep myself from yelling at her. I've got a number of choice words to tell her, but saying even half of those could get me fired, so I spin on my heel and rush out of the hall.
I walk into Ronald's office.
"Kay. What a—"
"That witch!" I yell.
"Nisha," he says. Not a question.
"She says it's my fault there's no DJ. It's like she wants the dance to flop and blame it on me!" I continue.
Ronald gestures that I take a seat. I do.
"What are you planning to do?" He asks calmly. I love that he can be calm in the midst of my calamity. It is soothing.
"I don't know. I hid in the closet for half an hour and my problems didn't go away. Now I need a solution, that I do not have," I huff and slump back on the leather chair.
"So," he says, pursing his lips. "Literally speaking, you came out of the closet?"
I roll my eyes, a small smile playing on my lips. "Was that all you got?"
He shrugs. "Pretty much,"
"Seriously," I say. "What do I do? I'm going to go down in history as the English teacher who ruined the back to school dance of 26!"
"Teacher of English," he says.
"Really?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.
"Worth a shot," he says, taking out a sheet of paper and a pen. "Let's put your problems on paper, and make them go away,"
"I have them on my phone," I tell him.
"It works better on paper," he says.I groan and pull out my phone to read out the tasks for him.
"Did you know Cliff can DJ?" Ronald asks after I'm done prattling.My eyes widen.
"No way. Wait, I can actually see it," I say.
It's pretty believable that Cliff can DJ. It seems to me the only ability that eludes him is having an inside voice. "Could we talk him into working the dance?" I ask hopefully.
"I think he's good with anything that's not chaperoning," Ronald answers. "I'll put him down as a maybe,"
"I think the fairy lights would be better if we had a fog machine," I say.
"We can borrow that from the drama department," Ronald says checking it down.
"Punch flavors?" I ask. "I like strawberry,"
"I think Nisha is allergic to strawberries," Ronald says.
"So that's affirmative on the strawberry punch," I say firmly.
Ronald gives me a look."Okay," I huff. "We can have tropical flavored too,"
Ronald tries to hide his smile as he writes it down.
"Snacks?"
"Who doesn't like crisps?" I ask. "Plus cookies. And biscuits. And tiny pretzels," I say excitedly.
Ronald writes it all down as I come up with more ideas.
"I think we're good," Ronald says. "Now you just have to make a couple of calls and come up with a budget that I can sign off on."
I could hug Ronald. I dash out of his office with a huge smile on my face.
************
Fifteen phone calls, five orders, one request and a bribe later (to go drinking with Cliff and a bunch of teachers from Rutherford) the dance is still on.
Nisha and her hellish posse can suck it for all I care.
I refrain from calling Indrek to celebrate. It feels...clingy, desperate; the icky things.I call Lily instead.
"Well, I'm glad you have defeated the wicked witch of the west. I'm just wondering what you plan on wearing tonight," she says.
I groan and mutter a few curses. "Careful not to influence the children," she says. I roll my eyes.
"I can't believe I never thought of that!" I grumble. "I'll just have to pick out something from my wardrobe,"
"I have but one suggestion, my dearest friend," she says.
I frown, sussing out the bullshit.
"What?" I ask.
"For the sake of our friendship, girl. Anything but pink!" she exclaims.