Chapter Text
"Was she good for you today?" Mark asks as he buckles his sleeping daughter into her car seat. He's ninety percent sure she's faking to get carried to the car, but it's been a long day and he can use the extra cuddle time.
“As always," Devon answers. "Ran around like a little banshee in the yard for about an hour. Then we had some apple slices and she worked on her reading for the day."
He pretends not to notice said banshee peeking through her eyelashes and he secures her chest clip. "Any other homework left?"
"I don't think so," she shakes her head. "She does have two new library books. One is staying here for me to read to her and the other is your new bedtime story material for the week."
"Gotcha." He closes the car door. "Thanks for watching her, see you tomorrow?"
"Of course."
Mark gets in the car and starts the drive home, every so often glancing at his daughter's face in the mirror. She's still pretending to be asleep. "I wonder what I should make for dinner tonight?" He muses aloud. "Maybe asparagus? Broccoli? Possibly some Brussel sprouts?"
"Papa, ew!" Penelope forgets to keep pretending in her disgust. "You know I only eat carrots!" The R sound turns to a W in her six year old mouth. "Green vegetables are icky."
"Right, of course," he laughs. "Carrots and cauliflower?"
"Only carrots!” She shrieks out a laugh.
“You’re going to turn orange,” he tells her. “I’ll have to start calling you my lucky pumpkin instead of my lucky Penny.”
Her little brow furrows in worried thought, and she’s silent for several somber seconds. “Okay Papa, some cauliflower.”
“That’s my girl,” he chuckles. “We’ve got some ice cream for dessert tonight. And if you’re good, tomorrow night we’re making cookies.”
"But Papa, you have to go to my school tomorrow!" Penelope pipes up helpfully from the backseat. "You gotta meet my new teacher! She's so pretty and so nice."
"You know Aunt Devon picks you up on Fridays," he reminds her. "Papa has work until later.”
"But Papa, it’s teacher conference day,” she says.
Mark stifles a sigh. “Pen, you know you’re supposed to tell me about these things.”
“I did! You said ‘uh-huh, uh-huh, I’m busy,’ so I put it on your important paper spot,” she tells him.
Now that she says it, he vaguely recalls seeing an envelope from her school. He never got around to reading it. “I’ll look at it when we get home.”
“You gotta!”
And so Mark finds himself parking in front of the faded Kier Eagan Elementary School Pygmy Goats sign at 2:25pm on Friday. He cashed in a last minute favor with his office neighbor to take over his last lecture of the day since he was screening a documentary for that class anyway.
The first grade classrooms are on the far left of the small building, and Penelope’s class is at the very end of the hall. There’s another parent in the hall when he gets there; she’s younger than him by probably fifteen to twenty years. Short, slender, red hair. Her hair and makeup are both a little messy, as if she’s spent the day running back and forth. She’s beautiful in that effortless way that people can only be when they aren’t trying.
When she notices him, she smiles and lifts a hand in greeting. “Which one's yours?" She gestures to the bulletin board of student photos to the side of the door.
With a grimace, he points to the worst photo on the entire board. Penelope Scout mid-sneeze. "Believe it or not, this was her retake. The night before her first picture day, she was playing with one of those pop up suction cup toys while I made dinner, and I didn't notice her sticking it to her face. She looked like she had mega chicken pox. Red spots on her cheeks, her forehead, even her nose. That's my Penny for you."
"Photogenic kiddo, huh?"
"Yeah," Mark chuckles. "She got that from me. Spitting image of her mom, and she can't photograph well for the life of her."
"Oh? Will her mom be joining you today?"
These questions never cease to be awkward. "Ah, no"—he rubs his thumb over his well worn wedding band—"she's, uh, she's not around anymore."
The woman's eyes fall to his hand, and that look of woeful understanding flicks across her features. "I'm sorry."
"So which one is yours?" He asks loudly. He's never been able to handle the sympathetic comments or the pitying looks.
To her credit, she takes the topic change in stride. "None of them," she says with a small smile, "or all of them. Depends how you look at it." She extends a slender finger and points to the photo taped to the top of the board. The picture of the new teacher.
Well, that's a faux pas from both of them at least. "Oh. I didn't realize. Thought you were another parent."
"Helena Riggs." She offers a hand to shake. "Or, well, Helly really. You can call me Helly."
Mark's hand engulfs hers completely. "Helly." He likes the way her name tastes on his tongue. "I'm Mark. Er, Scout. Mark Scout. But you should know that because, um, Penny. Penelope. Penelope Scout." Two seconds of skin to skin contact with a woman and his Broca's area ceases function. Maybe he should take Devon up on her offer to set him up on a blind date or speed dating or any event that has him socializing. He can't remember the last time he touched someone who wasn't related to him.
She drops his hand and steps toward the classroom door. "The last parent no-showed, so I was stretching my legs. You got here a minute after I finished my walk. That's why I wasn't inside," she explains as she waves him in ahead of her.
Mark looks around the room. It's definitely more colorful than it had been under the old teacher; there's rainbow posters on one wall, a bed sheet with finger paint in a corner, and a yellow sunflower rug at the front of the room. He can see why Penny has been raging about her. "Nice to finally meet the famous Miss Wigs," he imitates the way Penny says the name.
"You sound just like her," she laughs. The sound is richer than he would expect from her.
“Maybe she sounds just like me,” he suggests, his mouth curling into an easy smile.
“Maybe she does,” she matches his energy. “Anyway”—she gestures for him to sit—“let’s get to it.” She picks up a folder with Penny’s name on it. “I’ve not noticed anything concerning about Penny. She’s on level for math and excels in reading. She’s friendly and always eager to jump in and lend a hand.”
This is all stuff he’s heard before. “Sounds about right,” he tells her. “Don’t sit her next to Jim though, those two get on like a house on fire.”
“I learned my lesson on that already,” she laughs. “They keep trying to sit together during silent reading time, and I have to remind them that the key word in silent reading is ‘silent.’”
It doesn’t surprise him. “They went to the same preschool, they’ve been best friends for three years.”
“Do you have any questions for me?” She asks. “With the last teacher departing so suddenly, we thought the parents might have some concerns. Hence the parent teacher conferences today. I’m the only one doing them.”
Mark thinks for a second and asks the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you staying the rest of the year?”
Helly nods. “That’s the plan,” she tells him. “I’m technically finishing out my student teaching the next two months, but when this position opened, they need to fill it fast, so my contract might not be renewed for next year, but I’ll be here until June.”
“Good,” he nods. “Penny doesn’t do well with big change. She cried for three hours when she heard she was getting a new teacher. It’s worked out though; she likes you. Has been raving to me about Miss Wigs since you started.”
A light satisfied flush tints her cheeks. “I’m glad to hear, she’s a good kid.”
He smiles. “I don’t think I have any other concerns,” he says. “I usually work late on Fridays, so it’ll be nice to have the extra time with Pen tonight. I’ll get out of your hair.”
Before he can stand to leave, she reaches across the table and rests a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry about before," she says. "I should have known about Penny's mom. I haven't been here for long, but that's not an excuse. I assumed until now that the woman I see at pickup most days is her mother."
"My sister," he states.
"That makes sense." She nods. "She looks like you."
"We're twins. I'm older."
"I'm a twin too!" Immediately after she says it, her face crinkles in embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm not. Well, I was, but uh...I parasitized mine in the womb?" Her voice pitches up and he can't help but notice the red flush steadily creeping up her neck.
He nods slowly, unsure of how to respond to that.
"Fuck. Wait, shit, I shouldn't swear," the last part comes out sotto voce. "Never mind all that, I can't seem to stop putting my foot in my mouth today. I'm sorry, I must not be instilling a lot of confidence in my teaching abilities right now."
"Don't worry about it." He waves his hand dismissively. "You should have seen me my first year teaching. I once sweat so much that my notes smudged to the point of illegibility, and I forgot the order of events leading to the assassin of Archduke Franz Ferdinand."
“You teach?!” Her face lights up. “History? What grade?”
The eagerness is cute. She’s cute. Which is a strange thing for him to notice; the last time he thought that about someone was…he doesn’t remember. “Yes, history. Early twentieth century, World War I, and the interwar period. I’m a professor at Ganz College.”
Wow, she mouths. “Pretty impressive old man.” A small smirk. Then another almost panicked expression. “Shit, sorry. Oh fuck, I swore again. I promise I don’t swear in front of the kiddos.”
Mark shakes his head and chuckles. “Nothing Pen hasn’t heard before. I’m afraid her aunt and I aren’t the best examples in that regard.”
Helly schools her expression and tucks a flyaway strand of curly red hair behind an ear. “She’s one of my best readers, so I think you’re a fine example in some regards.”
He warms at the compliment. It’s always nice to hear that he’s doing a good job as a parent from someone other than Devon. “Thank you. I try my best.”
She squeezes his arm, and he realizes that she’s still touching him, that she’s been touching him this whole time. Fire courses up his arm, into his bloodstream, to his heart, downward to…other places. And nope, he can’t think like that. He’s not going to think inappropriate thoughts about his daughter’s teacher. His daughter’s very young and very beautiful teacher whom he must retain a polite but professional distance from. “-didn’t hear anything I said, did you?” Oh shit, she was speaking.
Mark ducks his head. “Zoned out there, sorry,” he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Anyway, I should be heading out. Penny is excited to make cookies and watch a movie tonight. Fridays are snacks and snuggles night, and she’ll be delighted to have a few extra hours.”
“That’s sweet.” Helly finally removes her hand from his arm. His blood cools and he can think clearly again. “I was asking if you’d be willing to sign up to chaperone our aquarium field trip later this year. We need another two volunteers, and I assume you already have a background check the school will accept. If we don’t have enough volunteers in advance, the school will cancel the trip. It’s on a Saturday.”
His ready built excuse of teaching is whisked away with that. He opens his mouth to come up with any other excuse, but then she sticks out her lower lip and widens her eyes. The puppy dog eyes. He’s a sucker for the puppy dog eyes. He couldn’t resist Gemma’s, he can’t resist Penny’s, and, apparently, he can’t resist Helly’s either. “Of course,” he finds himself saying. “Should I give you my phone number?” Then, hastily, he adds, “You know, so you can text me information about the event. Not any other reason.” He’s going to throw himself in the creek.
Helly’s mouth—soft, pink, kissa-NO—curves into an amused smile. “I have your phone number, Mark. You’re Penelope’s emergency contact. I have your cell and your office extension. I know how to reach you.”
“Right, stupid.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I should have thought about that.”
“Just giving you shit,” briefly she grins, then, “goddamnit, I swear I…okay maybe perhaps I could end that at ‘I swear.’”
Awkwardness forgotten, Mark laughs at the way her brow furrows. “I promise I won’t tell on you,” he whispers conspiratorially.
She starts to respond, but a knock on the door draws her attention. “Oh no!” She says suddenly. “We’ve gone over time, my next parent is here.” She stands up and herds him toward the door, which she opens to reveal a parent he vaguely recalls from the Christmas recital last month. “I am so sorry,” she’s saying. “Come on in, let’s get started, you’re David’s mom right?”
He skirts around the two women and out into the hall. As the door to the classroom closes, Helly looks back over her shoulder and fucking winks at him. She winks. What’s he supposed to think of that?! He can already tell he’s fucked twelve ways from Tuesday if he interacts with her again. Now he’ll just have to figure out a way to minimize any interactions.