“You needed your mind opened?” a boy yelled.

“Yep,” Rocky answered. “You taste injustice, even if it’s fictional, really taste it, it has a way of doing that. Sometimes, you can never put the shoe on the other foot. We can’t go back in time and know what it was like to be a black person then.” Her eyes scanned the all white faces of her class and she went on. “Even today, when things are supposed to be so much better, not one of you can understand what it’s like to be black, to live with the knowledge of what happened to your ancestry and still face injustice. But that book makes us taste it and, reading it, we know how bitter that taste is and we know we don’t like it. But that bitter wakes you up, and when you wake up, you open your mind to things in this world, you make yourself think. Then you’ll decide you don’t like the taste of injustice, not for you and not for anyone, and you’ll understand that even though all the battles can’t be won, that doesn’t mean you won’t fight.”

“Like Atticus,” a girl called out.

“Like Atticus,” Rocky repeated on a smile and sat straight. “Atticus Finch is the most beautiful man I’ve ever met in print. He’s a good dad and he does what’s right, not what’s safe, not what’s popular. What’s right. He’s gentle. He’s smart. He’s strong. He’s decisive and he’s willing to follow through with his decisions, no matter what the odds. Even if it means doing something heinous, like walking into a street and putting down a rabid dog. Taking the life of another being to put it out of its misery and make people safe. If you only read that one scene, you’d know the beauty that is Atticus Finch. Lucky for us, we had that whole book to get to know him.”

“Is that why you think he’s hot?” a boy asked.

“Yes, Zach, that’s why I think he’s hot,” Rocky answered.

“I liked it when he sat outside the police station and faced down the crowd,” another boy called out.

“That’s good too,” Rocky told him on a smile.

“I liked the courtroom scenes,” a girl shouted. “They rocked!”

“Yes, Luanne, they did. Except for the verdict, they definitely rocked,” Rocky agreed.

“The verdict sucked,” a boy yelled.

“Did it make you angry?” Rocky asked him.

“Well, yeah,” he answered.

“How angry?” Rocky asked.

“It ticked me off,” the kid returned. “I had to quit reading for awhile.”

Rocky smiled at him and asked, “And why did it tick you off?”

“Because it was wrong,” he replied.

“It was more than wrong, Will. It was injustice,” Rocky jumped off the stage, the movement liquid, landing gracefully on her high heels and she walked to stand close to the class. “Open your minds and learn from this tale. Do not stand still for injustice. If you know something isn’t right, find your strength and stand against it. I’m not going to kid you that it’s easy, it’s not. If you think Atticus Finch went home at night and slept easy because he knew he was doing the right thing, you’re wrong. He worried. He worried for his children. He worried for himself. He worried for his town. He worried for the world he lived in and his children were growing up in. He worried for the man he was trying to defend. And he knew he was going to lose. He knew it. But that didn’t stop him. Because even one voice in a wilderness of ignorance is a voice that is heard by someone. Because every woman and man, no matter their color or their religion, is entitled to a good defense. And because Jem and Scout would grow up to be like their father, spreading his wisdom, understanding his compassion and sharing his strength which are the only, the only weapons we have against injustice.” She walked along the front of the class but her eyes scanned the kids while she did it and her gaze was focused, piercing every last kid. “If you’re nothing else in this life, be wise, be compassionate and be strong because those three things are everything.”

There was utter silence until the boy named Dylan shouted, “I’m strong, Ms. Merrick, I can bench press two fifty.”

The other kids hissed, called insults, some threw wads of paper at him and one yelled, “You’re so full of it, Dylan, you can’t bench press a Barbie.”

Rocky was standing in front of the class, arms crossed on her chest and a smile was on her face.

“Dylan,” she called and the kid yelled back, “Yo!”

“Hard not to see you’re ripped,” Rocky commented and Dylan immediately stood and cut some poses, flexing his muscles while more wads of paper were thrown at him and comments were shouted. Dylan ignored them, kept posing and Rocky spoke over them. “That kind of strength, I bet any bully you saw in the halls doing stuff and saying stuff they shouldn’t, you called them on it, they’d stop. That’s strength and compassion.” She grinned. “Now you just have to pass my midterm and maybe you’ll add wisdom to that.”

The class burst into laughter, Dylan grinned back at Rocky, sat down and another kid called out, “Don’t hold your breath, Ms. Merrick!”

The bell rang and Rocky held up her hands. “All right, more Jem, Scout, Boo and Atticus tomorrow and Friday because we’re watching the movie and I’m introducing you to Gregory Peck so be prepared to get your socks knocked off. But remember, Friday, I want you all to bring in the title of your favorite song. We’re talking lyrics, not music, people. And if one of you brings in the title to a boy band song, automatic detention,” she threatened, there was more laughter and she turned toward the stage, saying, “Dismissed.”

The kids shot up and filed out and as they did, Layne realized that every one of them had read the damned book. There was mass participation but even though he barely tore his eyes off Rocky, he’d noticed even the kids who hadn’t called out comments or questions had been totally engaged.

He stepped into the auditorium from the entryway, the kids saw him and some of them stared, some grinned, some nudged others and avoided his eyes.

But when Dylan saw him, he turned back and shouted helpfully, “Mr. Layne is here, Ms. Merrick!” and a bunch of girls giggled when he did.

Rocky had been picking up her papers but she whirled at Dylan’s comment, scanned the back and her eyes locked on Layne as he strode forward. She dropped her papers and started up the aisle toward him, meeting him halfway with a smile.

“Hey,” she said softly through her smile.

“Hey,” he replied and tore his gaze off her dimple to look in her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Wanted to watch you do your thing,” Layne answered.

The smile faded but her lips parted and she stared up at him with something in her eyes he couldn’t quite read.

So he guessed.

“Baby, I was only there for ten minutes. I didn’t –” he started to explain but she cut him off on a whisper.

“You wanted to watch me do my thing?”

Layne studied her face, still couldn’t read it so he kept explaining. “You made me want to reread that book and the way you did it made me appreciate it in a way I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t loved it so much. You told me you were teaching it and…” Layne stopped talking when she looked down and to the side and he lifted a hand to curl it around her neck. “Roc.”

Her head twisted back, her eyes locked on his and she whispered, “Jarrod didn’t discuss my kids, my work, none of it. He had zero interest. None. And you’re spread so thin it’s a wonder you aren’t transparent and you find the time…”

She suddenly trailed off, bent to the side, dislodging his hand and looked around him as he heard the sounds of kids entering the auditorium.

“Up front, center, first three rows,” she called to the kids. “Kayla, do me a favor and tell folks when they come in. Mr. Layne and I need a minute.”

“Sure, Ms. Merrick,” Kayla called back and Layne wasn’t sure what was going on in Rocky’s head, even though he figured it was good, but he was fucking thrilled the “Ms. Merrick” thing had caught on.

Rocky grabbed his hand, her fingers wrapping strong around his and she tugged him down the aisle and along the front of the seats. She kept hold of his hand as she led him up the steps at the side of the stage and then ducked backstage with him.

When they were out of eyesight, she stopped, kept hold of his hand and stepped into him so their bodies were nearly brushing.

“Okay, well, it goes without saying if a hot private investigator can’t make out with me at a football game, I can’t lay one on a hot private investigator in the school with my class assembling fifty feet away so you’ll just have to make do with the knowledge I really, really want to make out with you right now, Tanner Layne,” she announced and he grinned as he stifled a laugh.

He dropped her hand and put both of his to her hips, bringing her the inch forward he needed for their bodies actually to be brushing while he murmured, “Sweetcheeks.”

She rested her hands on his chest and asked, “Was it okay?”

“Was what okay?”

“The lesson. There’s just so much to say with that book, you can’t get to it all so I have to melt it down. I mean, we could talk about it for a month and not –”

Layne cut her off. “It was okay.”

She stared into his eyes. “You sure?”

He dipped his face closer to hers and whispered, “Baby, they were eatin’ it up.”

She instantly blew off his compliment. “It’s a good class. Those kids are bright.”

“No, Roc, you’re a good teacher. Those kids might be bright but you make it interesting and I reckon you changed a few lives in there today, or at least the way they look at things.”

“You think?” she whispered.

“Oh yeah,” Layne whispered back.

She smiled, eyes bright with dimple and, fuck, but he wanted to kiss her.

“You need to negotiate a new contract, sweetcheeks,” Layne informed her and she burst out laughing then tilted her head down and pressed the top into his chest above her hands before she leaned back and looked up at him.

“Guess what?” she asked, the laughter still playing about her lips.

“What?” he asked back, watching her mouth.

“Adrian Cosgrove called in sick Monday and yesterday,” she stated and his eyes went to hers.

“Yeah, you told me.”

“Well, he didn’t call in sick today.”

Layne’s brows shot up. “No shit?”

She shook her head. “No shit. You haven’t heard?”

“Been busy, baby.”

“Then you should call Colt or Merry and get the lowdown because he barely stepped in the door when the principal called him into his office. Then, about five seconds after Principal Klausen suspended him, Chris Renicki and Marty Fink arrested him for assault and battery.”

Layne grinned. “Day’s lookin’ up.”

Rocky grinned back. “Definitely.” Then her grin faded and she stated, “He’ll make bail.”

Layne shook his head. “Don’t worry, Roc, Paige and Seth will stay where they are until they’re safe. They’ll be covered.”

She nodded and asked, “Did Jas call you during lunch?”

“Nope,” Layne answered. “Everything okay?”

She nodded again and said, “Yeah. Apparently Tripp negotiated a double date.”

“Come again?”

“He asked Giselle if she’d ask her parents if it was okay, after football practice but before Youth Group, if Giselle could go out with Jas, Keira and him for pizza and then Jasper could take her home and they said yes.”

Layne smiled. Jas was right. Religious or not, the parents had caved.

“Why are you smiling?” Rocky asked.

“Nothin’, sweetcheeks.”

She let it go and announced, “That means I’m heading home tonight.”

Layne’s smile died. “Why?”

“The boys won’t be at your place, you told me you have to work late and then you’re staking out Gaines’s car so you won’t be there and as much as I like Devin, without you and Jasper and Tripp running interference, I don’t know if I could take a night of mostly full on Vera while waiting for you to come home.”

It was definitely time to have another chat with his mother.

“Roc –”

“Anyway,” she interrupted him. “It feels like I haven’t been home in ages so it’ll be good to go through mail, make sure no lab experiments are fermenting in my fridge and watch something other than football and cop shows.”

“There’s something other than football and cop shows?” Layne asked and she smiled.

“Yes, celebrity dance contests,” she answered, Layne tipped his head back to look at the ceiling and tipped it down when he felt her press close. “I’m kidding, sweetheart. I hate those shows. I much prefer football.”