Fatty Patty (A James Bay Novel) (34 page)

I paw my way frantically through the messy stacks, searching for his grade book. It’s got to be here somewhere. Where would he put it? Then the answer comes, so simple, I nearly laugh. I yank open the middle desk drawer and there sits Nick’s record book, ripe for the taking. I reach out to grab it, then suddenly hesitate. What if I’m wrong? What if I get caught? I’ve never done anything like this in my life. Granted, Jeff let me in the room, but snooping around in another teacher’s files feels like breaking and entering. It goes against everything I believe in. I shouldn’t be doing this.

And Billy Connolly shouldn’t have gotten an
A
.

I grab the book without another thought. Flipping it open, I scan the pages, noting first and second quarter scores. I skim past blank sections, seeing pages with only names listed at the top. Where are the reading scores? They have to be here somewhere. I thumb through the remaining pages and finally locate the page with the proper dates. I blink, stare in confusion, blink again.

The page is empty.

No reading tally recorded. No scores for Billy Connolly or any other students. Just an alphabetical list of names. Six weeks into the marking period and Nick has done no grading.

I slap the book shut in disbelief. I must have read it wrong. There’s no way Nick would let the assignments pile up like that. I throw a wary glance at the stacks of papers covering his desk. Some of them must be graded, at least Billy’s work. Nick’s report is on my desk. How did he come up with Billy’s scores? What did he base his final grade on?

I grab a stack of papers, rifling through them as fast as I can. Ungraded math homework, two weeks old. I reach for another pile, unable to stop myself. Science reports from last month, with no scores. I dig deeper and finally unearth some reading papers, halting when I finally hit one with Billy’s name at the top. It’s dated early February. There’s no red ink and no grade, either. No
A
for Billy. No
A
,
B
,
C
or
D
.

I slump back in Nick’s chair and stare at the proof before my eyes. Nick hasn’t kept up with his grading. He’s let everything slide. He pulled Billy’s
A
out of thin air. He made it up. He cheated.

A liar and a cheat.

Where have I heard those words before? The memory of a crowded bowling alley on New Year’s Eve makes me cringe and I try to recall all the things Sam said that night. We were having so much fun until he brought up those allegations about Nick’s past and a former teaching career. Was Sam right after all? In front of me is undeniable proof that Nick falsified Billy’s reading scores. Are there other things Nick might have done? Other schools he might have taught at? Sam tried to warn me and I didn’t believe him.

“Miss P?”

A polite cough from the doorway brings me straight to my feet.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you none.” Jeff points at the clock. “It’s nine o’clock and I’m fixing to leave. If you’re done in here, I’ll lock up.”

“Yes, I’m done.”
Done with him. Done for good
. I scoot out of Nick’s chair and hurry out the door.

Jeff’s keys jingle as he checks the lock behind us. “Find what you need?”

“Yes, thanks,” I say with a feeble smile. “I found everything.”

More than I ever expected.

# # #

I drive in circles through the cold dark streets pondering my options. What do I do now? I can’t just charge into Chuck Steven’s office and present him with what I discovered. The first thing he’ll want to know is how I found out.

Oh, no problem, Mr. Stevens. Just a little breaking and entering, courtesy of Jeff.

I slam on the brakes as I nearly run a red light. I sit back, drum my fingers against the wheel, wait for the light to change. No, I don’t dare approach Chuck Stevens. I can’t take the chance.

Behind me a car horn blares and I floor the gas, wincing as the tires spin, then catch and squeal on pavement. I keep the car at a bare crawl the last few blocks. I’ve never been involved in an accident, and I don’t want to start tonight. Getting worked up over something like this isn’t worth it.

Nick Lamont definitely isn’t worth it.

Sam was right all along. He told me I was smarter than to trust a man who was using me for a fool. Why did I waste my time gobbling up Nick’s syrupy compliments? How could I have been so stupid, mooning over him all those months while my heart urged me elsewhere? Indulging in Nick Lamont was a wild romantic daydream that I’ll regret for the rest of my life. It cost me dearly.

It cost me Sam.

Sam
. The mere thought of him makes me want to cry. I was horrible to him on New Year’s Eve, flinging that necklace in his lap. But Sam didn’t speak out of jealousy or fear. He tried to warn me but I wouldn’t listen. I was so captivated by the thought that someone like Nick—suave, smooth, sophisticated—could be interested in me.

The truth is devastating. Disastrous. I don’t deserve someone like Nick.

I deserve someone better.

And Sam deserves someone better than me.

Home. I sit there a moment, grateful to see the driveway empty of cars. Priscilla’s dinner party is over. And after what I discovered tonight, I’m not ready to face Sam. I need to figure out what to do next. Do I confront Nick personally or bide my time and wait for the perfect moment?

But how long do I wait? And what if there’s never a perfect moment?

I slam the car door and head for the house. Until I figure a way through this mess, contacting Sam will have to wait.

# # #

Ruth’s door is open. I peek inside, relieved to see her behind her desk. “Got a minute?”

She peers over her reading glasses. “Sure, come on in.”

I close the door behind me, suck in a deep breath as I near her desk. If I don’t handle this exactly right, she’ll think I’m crazy and that is something I can’t afford. I’m desperate and I need Ruth on my side. I spent all weekend locked in my room trying to figure out how to handle things. There simply is no way I can expose Nick by myself. But if I can talk Ruth into getting involved, things might be different. Ruth is his mentor. She has access to Nick’s records, to files I don’t.

“I need to talk to you. Privately.”

Ruth frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“I think we have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” She sits back in her chair and eyes me cautiously.

“Billy Connolly got an
A
in reading.”

Her expression drops from concern to disbelief. “Since when? He nearly failed when I had him in class last year. He never turns his papers in.”

“I know. He doesn’t do any better in my classes, either.”

Ruth’s eyes narrow. “Doesn’t he have Nick for reading?”

I have her full attention, but still I hesitate. I can’t just casually mention I’ve gone snooping through Nick’s desk. I have nothing concrete to go on save for a hunch and some things Sam told me that now make sense. I’m desperate to get a look at Nick’s personnel file. That could verify the truth, if he claimed the job. But until someone sees that file, I have nothing. Nothing except an utter belief in what Sam said.

“Ruth, I know this is going to sound crazy…”

“I’m listening.”

“What if I told you that I think Nick made up Billy’s grade?”

The look on her face switches from disbelief to distaste. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he didn’t want to take the time to do it right.” I lean in closer. “We both know there’s no way Billy suddenly turned into a model student. I think Nick made up the grade. I think he’s been cutting corners and not doing the work.” I take a deep breath. “I think he’s been giving kids grades they don’t deserve.”

“These are serious accusations, Patty.” Her face is ashen. “I assume you have proof.”

I think about the stacks of ungraded paperwork piled on Nick’s desk. Ammunition that could backfire on him if anyone found it. But how do I explain my presence in Nick’s classroom when I wasn’t supposed to be there?

“Not exactly,” I admit. “But I believe he’s covering things up. And I think he’s made up other things, too.”

“What kind of things?”

I stop short as I read the doubt in my colleague’s eyes. If I was Ruth, I probably wouldn’t believe me, either. All I have are Sam’s words to go by. That, and the evidence I discovered last Friday night. A messy stack of ungraded papers and an empty record book.

“Some things I’ve recently learned make me think that Nick hasn’t been telling the truth. I don’t believe he’s a first-year teacher.” I rush the words out before I lose my nerve.

“That’s ridiculous,” she says with a frown. “He’s never taught before.”

“How do we know that? What if he’s been lying to us? How would we know? What if—”

“Patty, stop it.” She throws her hands up in the air. “I cannot believe you’re saying these things. Do you realize how you sound? You’re talking about destroying a fellow teacher’s reputation.”

My heart pounds in my ears and I draw in ragged breaths. In the ten years I’ve known her, I’ve never heard Ruth speak so sharply. How can I get her to believe me? The big round clock above her desk ticking off the seconds is the only sound between us as we stare each other down.

“You say you’ve learned some things that make you believe this. Do you have proof?” she finally asks.

“Not exactly,” I admit, “but I bet Nick’s résumé would.”

“Patty, you are not making sense.” The sharp look on her face dissolves into the familiar Ruth I’ve come to know and trust. “Think about it, dear. Why would he want to lie about something like that? Nick has no reason to hide classroom experience. If he’d taught before, he’d earn more money on the pay scale.”

“Exactly,” I agree with a nod. “Prior experience is something you’d list on a résumé—unless you had some reason to cover it up. And I think Nick has a reason. Something happened, Ruth. Something bad. Something that got him fired.”

Her face darkens. “If you know something I don’t, it would be best if you told me right now.”

“But that’s just it. I don’t know for sure. But if the two of us teamed up, I think we could come up with the truth.”

Her mouth puckers in a thin, tight line. “Exactly how do you propose we do that?”

“We need to get a look at Nick’s personnel file.” My voice floats across the desk, barely above a whisper. “I can’t do it but you could. You’re his mentor, Ruth. You have access to his file.”

“Out of the question.” Her mouth tightens. “Not only is it highly unethical, employee records are strictly confidential. They’re kept under lock and key.”

“Please, Ruth?” The uneasy glimmer of fear in her eyes pushes me forward. “I know you could find a way if you try.”

Records for students and teachers are stored in the filing room behind Mary Darcy’s desk. Large institutional filing cabinets take up most of the room, which teachers are allowed to peruse at their leisure for as long as they like. I’ve thumbed through my students’ records in the past. All that’s required is an authorized signature.

But I’m not authorized to check out personnel files.

“What exactly do you suggest I do?” she asks testily. “Confront Mary Darcy and demand she hand over Nick’s file? The first thing she’ll do is ask me why I need it. And the second thing she’ll do is check with Chuck Stevens. What do you suggest I tell him when questions me as to why I’ve taken such a sudden interest in Nick’s files?”

My spirits sink as I realize I’ve lost her. Ruth was my one shot at clearing up the mystery. I knew it was a gamble, sharing suspicions without evidence to back it up. But I had to try.

“And just for the record,” she adds, “I think you’re wrong about Nick.”

“If I’m wrong, I’ll be the first to admit it,” I softly reply. “I’m sorry to have involved you in this. Believe me, Ruth, if there was any other way, I wouldn’t have asked you. But Nick’s records are the only thing I can think of that might prove what I’m saying.”

She picks up her red pen.

“Ruth?” I take one last shot.

She eyes me sharply.

“Just think about it… Nick gave Billy Connolly an
A
in reading. Would you have done that? Would I?”

She stares at me a long moment, then picks up her glasses and perches them on her nose. “I need to finish grading these tests.”

Grading papers?
I could show you a whole desk full that need grading.

I slip from the room and close the door behind me. I’ve just put ten years of friendship on the line but I had to do it. Hopefully Ruth will think about what I said. Hopefully it was enough to convince her to pay a visit to the office and check out Nick’s credentials.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“There was nothing in his file.”

“Are you sure?” I tuck the telephone under one ear as I strain to reach the bag of chips hidden on the highest shelf in the pantry. “Did you search the entire file?”

“I
looked
through his file,” Ruth replies in a testy voice. “His résumé, his college transcript, and some letters of recommendation.”

“Did you read them? Were they good?”

A heavy sigh floods the line. “Honestly, Patty, do you actually think Nick would name someone as a reference if he didn’t think they’d give him a glowing report?”

As usual, Ruth is right. My fingers connect with the potato chips. I grab the bag and slump against the pantry shelf. What was I thinking? Nick’s not stupid. He wouldn’t list anything on his résumé that could lead to trouble.

“Patty? Are you still there?”

“Sorry, I was thinking.” I puzzle for a moment. “Do you remember who those letters of reference were from?”

“Other school districts.”

“So, he
has
worked at other schools.” Her news confirms Sam’s allegations.

“They had nothing to do with his teaching credentials. They were about his coaching experience. And almost everyone one of them was highly complimentary.”

“Almost?” I catch the slight hesitation in her voice. “They weren’t all filled with praise?”