When Beau finally got to the aisle, he caught a glimpse of the lecturer shielding his eyes so as to see who was making all the fuss. He was one person Beau wasn’t going to ask for a letter of recommendation.
Feeling emotionally as well as physically exhausted at the end of the school day, Cassy made her way down the main stairs of the high school and exited out into the horseshoe drive in front. It was pretty clear to her that from a teaching standpoint she liked elementary school much better than high school. From her perspective high-schoolers generally seemed too self-centered and too interested in constantly challenging their boundaries. She even thought a number of them were downright mean. Give me an innocent, eager third-grader any day, Cassy reflected.
The afternoon sun felt warm on Cassy’s face. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she scanned the multitude of vehicles in the drive. She was looking for Beau’s 4×4. He insisted on picking her up each afternoon, and was usually waiting for her. Obviously today was different.
Looking for a place to sit, Cassy saw a familiar face waiting nearby. It was Jonathan Sellers from Mrs. Edelman’s English class. Cassy walked over and said hello.
“Oh, hi,” Jonathan stammered. He nervously glanced around, hoping he wasn’t being observed by any classmates. He could feel his face blush. The fact of the matter was, he thought Cassy was the best-looking teacher they’d ever had and had told Tim as much after class.
“Thanks for breaking the ice this morning,” Cassy said. “It was a big help. For a moment I was afraid I was at a funeral, my funeral.”
“It was just lucky I’d tried to see what it said about Faulkner in my laptop.”
“I still think it took a bit of courage on your part to say something,” Cassy said. “I appreciated it. It certainly got the ball rolling. I was afraid no one would speak.”
“My friends can be jerks at times,” Jonathan admitted.
A dark blue minivan pulled up to the curb. Nancy Sellers leaned across the front seat and popped open the passenger-side door.
“Hi, Mom,” Jonathan voiced with a little self-conscious wave.
Nancy Sellers’s bright, intelligent eyes jumped back and forth between her seventeen-year-old son and this rather sexy college-age woman. She knew his interest in girls had suddenly mushroomed, but this situation seemed a wee bit inappropriate.
“Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Nancy asked.
“Yeah, sure,” Jonathan said, eyeing the crack in the sidewalk. “This is Miss Winthrope.”
Cassy leaned forward and stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Sellers. You can call me Cassy.”
“Cassy it is then,” Nancy replied. She shook Cassy’s outstretched hand. There was a short but awkward pause before Nancy asked how long Cassy and Jonathan had known each other.
“Mommmm!” Jonathan moaned. He knew instantly what she was implying, and felt mortified. “Miss Winthrope is a student teacher in English class.”
“Oh, I see,” Nancy remarked with mild relief.
“My mom is a research virologist,” Jonathan said to change the subject and help explain how she could say something so stupid.
“Really,” Cassy said. “That’s certainly an interesting and important field in today’s world. Are you at the University Med Center?”
“No, I’m employed at Serotec Pharmaceuticals,” Nancy said. “But my husband is at the university. He runs the physics department.”
“My goodness,” Cassy said. She was impressed. “No wonder you have such a bright son here.”
Over the top of the Sellerses’ van Cassy caught sight of Beau turning into the horseshoe drive.
“Well, nice meeting you,” Cassy said to Nancy. Then turning to Jonathan she said: “Thanks again for today.”
“It was nothing,” Jonathan insisted.
Cassy half skipped, half ran up to where Beau had pulled to the curb.
Jonathan watched her go, mesmerized by the motion of her buttocks beneath her thin cotton dress.
“Well, am I giving you a ride home or not?” Nancy questioned to break the spell. She was becoming concerned again that there was something going on she didn’t know about.
Jonathan climbed into the front of the car after carefully depositing his laptop on the backseat.
“What was she thanking you for?” Nancy asked as they pulled away. She could see Cassy getting into a utility vehicle driven by an attractive male her own age. Nancy’s concerns melted again. It was tough raising a teenager: one minute proud, the next concerned. It was an emotional roller coaster for which Nancy felt unequipped.
Jonathan shrugged. “Like I said, it was nothing.”
“Good grief,” Nancy said, frustrated. “Getting even a modicum of information from you reminds me of that saying about squeezing water out of a rock.”
“Gimme a break,” Jonathan said. As they drove past the black 4×4 he stole another glance at Cassy. She was sitting in the vehicle, talking with the driver.
“You look terrible,” Cassy said. She was twisted in the seat so she could look directly into Beau’s face. He was paler than she’d ever seen him. Perspiration stood on his forehead like tiny cabochon topazes. His eyes were red and rheumy.
“Thanks for the compliment,” Beau said.
“Really,” Cassy said. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know,” Beau said. He covered his mouth while he coughed. “It came on me just before my marketing class, and it’s getting worse. I guess I got the flu. You know, muscle aches, sore throat, runny nose, headache, the works.”
Cassy stretched out her hand and felt his sweaty brow. “You’re hot,” she said.
“Funny because I feel cold,” Beau said. “I’ve been having shivers. I even got into bed, but as soon as I was under the covers, I felt hot and kicked them off.”
“You should have stayed in bed,” Cassy said. “I could have bummed a ride with one of the other student teachers.”
“There was no way to get in touch with you,” Beau said.
“Men,” Cassy voiced as she got out of the car. “You guys never want to admit when you’re sick.”
“Where are you going?” Beau questioned.
Cassy didn’t answer. Instead she walked around the front of the car and opened Beau’s door. “Shove over,” she said. “I’m driving.”
“I can drive,” Beau said.
“No arguments,” Cassy said. “Move!”
Beau didn’t have the energy to protest. Besides, he knew it was probably best even though he wouldn’t admit it.
Cassy put the car in gear. At the corner she turned right instead of left.
“Where the hell are you going?” Beau asked. With his head throbbing he wanted to get back to bed.
“You are going to the student infirmary at the University Med Center,” Cassy said. “I don’t like the way you look.”
“I’ll be all right,” Beau complained, but he didn’t protest further. He was feeling worse by the minute.
The entrance to the student infirmary was through the ER, and as Cassy and Beau walked in, Pitt saw them and came out from behind the front desk.
“Good grief!” Pitt said when he took one look at Beau. “Did the Nite organization cancel your interview or did you get run over by the women’s track team?”
“I can do without your wisecracks,” Beau mumbled. “I think I got the flu.”
“You ain’t kidding,” Pitt said. “Here, come on into one of the ER bays. I don’t think they want you down in the student walk-in clinic.”
Beau allowed himself to be led into a cubicle. Pitt facilitated the visit by bringing in one of the most compassionate nurses and then by going out to get one of the more senior ER physicians.
Between the nurse and the doctor Beau was quickly examined. Blood was drawn and an IV started.
“This is just for hydration,” the doctor said, tapping the IV bottle. “I think you have a bad case of the flu, but your lungs are clear. Still, I think it best for you to stay in the student overnight ward, at least for a few hours to see if we can’t bring your fever down and control that cough. We’ll also be able to take a look at your blood work in case there’s something I’m missing.”