"Come," she yells from the other side.
Oh, well, now that’s just too good to pass up. I fling the door open. With my arms held wide, I step in, leering at her. "I thought you’d never ask."
She looks up with a truly bored expression on her face then drops her head back to her file. "Go to hell."
I drop my arms and cross her office, perching on the corner of her desk looking down at her. "Ah, come on, Kels, I thought you were offering." I swear she mumbles something to the effect of ‘Not in your lifetime.’ But I’m not sure.
Straight, my ass. I think this may become my new meditation mantra. Now all I need to do is take up meditation.
"Why is everything about sex with you, Harper?" Kelsey asks.
I shrug, "Probably for the same reason nothing is about sex with you, Kels." She doesn’t reply. I didn’t think she would. She’s terrified of the truth: We’re more alike than she cares to admit. I continue, "Okay, partner in the non-sexual sense, here’s the deaclass="underline" Do you own a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt?"
"What kind of dumb ass question is that?" She looks up and leans into her high back leather chair. I gotta talk to Chambers about getting one of those. "Of course, I own a pair of jeans and a T-shirt." She sips her tea as she stares at me.
Is that a little curiosity I see in those eyes, Kels? Seems she knows how to unbutton a button or two of her own; I can feel her mentally undressing me.
I clear my throat, trying to shake that image. "We have a new assignment and it’s going to require a little dressing down on your part."
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
Standing at the registration desk I try to hide my smirk as Kels fidgets next to me. I glance her direction, as I take her in. During a quick stop at the local WalMart (I can’t even begin to describe the fun it was to take her there), we picked up a Ricky Martin T-shirt. I then had to threaten her with bodily harm if she didn’t trade her designer polo for it (our ideas of ‘dressing down’ are apparently not in sync). She can now almost pass for an 18-year old high-school student.
It was when I reached around to pull her hair back that my suspicions were confirmed. As my fingertips innocently – I swear - grazed her neck while pulling back her hair, I felt her pulse quicken. It was a nice feeling. I was glad to have caused it.
The clerk lays the registration papers in front of me. "What relationship are you to the student?"
I smirk as I notice Kels isn’t paying close attention to my conversation. "I’m her probation officer." I catch a slight bristle from Kels as she slowly turns to face me.
The clerk looks to Kels and back to me. "This is unusual."
"Yes, it is, but the court ordered that Miss Dumb Ass…"
Kels cuts my off with a glare that would knock a lesser person into next week. "It’s Doo-maas, you primate."
I turn to her and grin, then check the paper I am holding in my hand. "Hmmm. D- u – m – a – s. Looks like a ‘dumb-ass’ to me. And you know what they say: ‘If it looks like a dumb ass and it sounds like a dumb ass, it’s probably a dumb ass."
The woman is eyeing us warily. "I need to get the Principal for this. Would you two take a seat over there, please?" The registrar points to a wooden bench placed beneath a bulletin board.
I give a flourish with my arm, "After you, Miss …"
"Just shut the fuck up, Harper."
I love life. Sometimes, I really, really do. "Hey, look, Kels, there’s a dance this weekend."
All I get for my effort is a sullen stare.
"Come on, buck up, Little Roo."
She turns her green eyes on me and I feel a little bit of my heart melt. Damn, she’s good. No wonder they made her an anchor. "Why probation officer?" she asks.
"Well, it would have been a bit cliché for me to come in as a gym teacher, chér." I give my most charming smile, which is, I admit, quite charming. "Besides, we don’t know if someone in the administration is in on the sourcing. Trust no one, right?"
"We aren’t the X-Files, Harper."
"I dunno. They’re partners and not sleeping together either." I slide a little closer to her on the bench. "But everyone wants them to."
"Once they sleep together, the ratings will go down. Look at Maddie and David on ‘Moonlighting.’ And I know how much you value ratings."
This I find highly amusing. "Oh my God, you still remember their characters’ names! You must really have had a thing for Cybill Shepherd." I laugh a bit more, ignoring my partner’s discomfort, noting the lack of denial for the object of her affection. "Personally, I like cute, short blondes."
She is forming a retort when the registrar appears before us. "Principal Downey will see you now."
Saved by the bell, so to speak.
We’re sitting in Algebra II. Kelsey is seated in the second to last row, next to the windows. I’m sitting further back, at the teacher’s desk. The principal agreed to admit Kels without too much of a fuss. Apparently, a couple other kids here came back to school that way. It’s California’s way of getting serious about probation. All juvie offenders have to be escorted for their first 60 days out. This puts an unimaginable strain on the probation officers, but it does seem to be having some effect on juvenile recidivism.
Kelsey is playing the part well enough: snapping her gum and displaying that air of disinterest she does so well. She looks out the window and leans back slightly as if trying to get a better look at something, when the teacher loudly clears his throat and raps on the blackboard with a ruler.
"Ms. Dumas, if the outside world is too distracting for you, I can change your seating assignment," he offers magnanimously.
My partner looks back to him immediately and offers him a shy smile and a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Thanks for the offer, teach, but I’m with ya now."
He watches her a moment longer before turning back to the lesson. Aside from a few sly glances out the window, Kels manages to pay attention.
After Algebra we go to History. As we make our way down the hall, we’re both watching the other students. What a mix. Everything from designer suits – hey, who knew- to punked-out, spiked-hair and leather dog collars.
"I need to make a stop." Kels tugs on my arm.
"Rest room?"
"No, thanks." She rolls her eyes at me. "Locker. I’m dumping some of these books." She grumbles as she leads me to a wall of lockers. "Unless you’d like to carry them for me?"
"Are we going steady?"
She laughs, and I am extraordinarily pleased by that reaction.
I lean against another locker as she fumbles with the armload of books and her combination lock. "Here let me." I take her books and tuck them away under my arm as she plays with the lock.
"Thanks. But don’t get any ideas."
"Fair enough." Suddenly, I remember her distraction in Algebra class. "Hey, what did you see outside?"
She looks up and crinkles her brow in confusion.
"Algebra? Mr. Daniels?" I prompt, waiting for her eyes to glimmer with recognition.
"Mmm." She shrugs, looks back to her lock. "Maybe nothing. A couple little gatherings in the student parking lot. One of the guys seemed shady."
"Seemed shady?" I repeat slowly. "You want to elaborate?"
"Not really. Just shady. I think I’m gonna skip Algebra II tomorrow."
"I’ll have to come look for you," I warn her with a smirk.
"I don’t care. Just let me do my job, Tabloid." She jerks her locker open then reaches for her books. As she stuffs them in, I notice a ‘jock’ type taking an interest in the new student.
"You have an admirer." I nod at the young man who slowly runs his eyes up and down my partner’s body before he closes the door of his locker. He keeps that up and I’m gonna take them out for him.