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teach in a school?”
    I nodded. “Middle school. Seventh grade. Your dad tells me that you’re quite advanced for your age.”
    It was his turn to nod. “Testing at sixth grade levels,” he said with the same proud tilt of his chin. “They say that’s why I don’t do well in class. I’m not challenged enough.”
    “ Why do you think you don’t do well?” I asked.
    He shrugged. “I get bored.”
    I put my glass on the table beside the lounging chair. “Okay, rule number one: you never get to say you are bored. Bored is for the ignorant or the dull. I don’t know you very well, but I’m pretty sure that you are neither of those things. If you are intelligent and talented, there’s absolutely no way to get bored. There are always new thoughts to think, and new ideas to spark into plans. We are a species driven by innovation and creativity. The world is full of information and any number of things to learn and discover at any given time, so if you are bored, it’s your choice. As such, you’re not allowed to complain.”
    He looked absolutely taken aback that I could speak to him so forcefully upon our first real meeting.
    “Do you read?” I pressed on. He nodded, but wisely opted to say nothing. “I’ll give you a reading list,” I said. “Whenever you think that you’re bored, take out a book and lose yourself in a story. We can also approach the lesson plans a little more liberally, if there’s one subject that stimulates you more than the other. Once you discover what you love about learning, you can apply it to any subject. It’s all about perspective.”
    “Well, well, well,” I heard a male voice drawl from just beyond the fence. I turned to see what might have been Drew Fullerton’s scruffier, more uncouth twin. He was just as tall as Drew, with the same dark hair and light eyes and sculpted features. This man, however, sported long hair, a close beard and wore a flannel work shirt, faded jeans and dusty, worn cowboy boots.
    “Uncle Alex!” Jonathan exclaimed gleefully as he shot up off of the chaise lounge. He ran to the gate and around the yard until Alex Fullerton hoisted him up in one powerful arm.
    “How you doin,’ kiddo?” Alex asked with a wide smile. He tugged at the orange belt. “You’re not a black belt yet? What’s wrong with you?”
    Jonathan laughed at Alex’s teasing tone. “It takes time, Uncle Alex.”
    “For everyone else,” Alex dismissed. “But for Jonathan Fullerton? I think not. You are made of too much awesome.”
    “Lemme show you some new moves!” Jonathan offered as he hopped down.
    “Now, buddy,” Alex chastised gently. “Don’t forget your manners. Why don’t you introduce me to your new friend?”
    Jonathan walked closer to the fence where I sat. “This is Rachel Dennehy. She’s my new teacher.”
    I stood and approached the iron fence. “We’re still working on that part,” I corrected. “I’m in the interview process, you could say.”
    Alex’s hands landed on either of Jonathan’s shoulders. “Hope Master Jonathan here went easy on you,” he offered with an easy smile that never quite made it up to those steely eyes, which gave me the same critical once-over his nephew had.
    “Hey, are those Cleo’s homemade chocolate chip cookies?” he asked. Jonathan nodded, so Alex patted him on the back. “Feel like fetching your old uncle a plate?” Another vigorous nod before Jonathan raced off into the house to accommodate a man he clearly idolized.
    Knowing what little I knew of their family history, I felt it a tad ironic.
    Alex leaned over the fence. “So my brother finally did it,” he commented as his eyes swept o ver me.
    “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
    “Brought in a ringer,” he clarified. “What better weapon to prevent his ex-wife from getting full custody than put a matronly female influence right in the house?”
    Matronly? Was that a nice way of calling me fat? I stood straighter. “I’m just here