Perverted Daddy System

Chapter 121 - Planning on twinning

Lunchtime arrives with the clatter of trays and the roar of a hundred conversations. The cafeteria is a large room with long wooden tables with worn surfaces, flickering fluorescent lights, and the smell of institutional food — something involving ground meat and steam. Students line up at the serving counter, jostling and laughing, backpacks piled on chairs to save seats.

I find a spot near the window where I can see most of the room. It's a strategic position — I can watch the flow of students, note who sits with whom, observe the social hierarchy in action. The girls from wealthier families cluster by the windows, posture perfect, laughter practiced. The sporty types huddle near the serving line, tracksuit jackets over their uniforms. The quiet ones — bookish or shy — tuck into the back corner, heads down over their trays.

Hope waves from the line. I don't see Hester.

A few minutes later, Hope sits down across from me with a tray of mac and cheese — an unsettling shade of orange — and a side of steamed vegetables that have long since surrendered their color and texture.

"Looks appetizing," I say.

"Tastes better than it looks." She takes a bite. Her expression is carefully neutral, which tells me everything.

"Where's Hester?"

"Over there." She gestures with her fork. I glance over. Hester is sitting at a table near the far wall with two other girls. She's pushing her food around her plate, not eating. Her shoulders are tight.

"She's going to do it after lunch. She told me."

"Good."

"She's scared."

"Fear is normal. She'll do it anyway."

Hope nods and starts talking about her morning — a history quiz she thinks she aced, a funny comment from Melissa about the principal's bow tie, a rumor about two teachers dating that's been circulating since homeroom. I let her talk, chiming in occasionally, playing the attentive father.

But my eyes keep drifting to the twins.

They're sitting two tables away, heads close together, whispering. They eat the same food, move in sync without thinking about it. When one reaches for her water bottle, the other does the same a second later. Fascinating to watch.

They're both pretty in an understated way. Same brown hair, braided differently. Same light eyes. Dana has a small mole above her left eyebrow. Gina doesn't. That's the only difference I can spot from here.

"Do you know Dana and Gina?" I ask, keeping my voice casual.

Hope follows my gaze. "The twins? Yeah, they're in my history class. Why?"

"Just curious. They seem nice."

"They are. Quiet. Keep to themselves mostly."

"They seem close."

"They're twins, daddy."

I smile. "Fair point."

Quiet. Close. Keep to themselves. No noisy friend group to navigate. No protective social circle to break through. Perfect targets. But I'll let Paul's call with Mary open that door — cleaner that way. A mother's permission is worth more than a casual invitation.

I finish my lunch and stand, squeezing Hope's shoulder. "I'm going to see Paul. I'll be around."

"Okay. Don't get into trouble."

"No promises."

She laughs at our role reversal. I walk out of the cafeteria. The noise fades behind me as I head for the stairs, the clatter of trays and chatter receding with each step.

Paul's office is on the second floor, at the end of a hallway that smells like old paper and coffee. I knock on the open door.

He looks up and breaks into a warm smile. "Mr. Ben! Come in, come in."

I close the door behind me and sit in the chair across from his desk. The man's loyalty is maxed. No skills needed around him. He'd do anything I asked without hesitation.

"Busy day?"

"The usual. Paperwork, meetings, mediating disputes between teachers who can't share supplies." He leans back. "How's your visit going?"

"Good. Met the teachers. Mrs. Albright is sharp — she'll need more work. Harrison is forgettable, not worth the effort. Miss Delaney is interesting."

He nods knowingly. "She's young. Enthusiastic. The students like her. She's also single, which I assume you noticed."

"I noticed."

"She's a candidate for the school."

"I figured you'd say that." He pulls a folder from his drawer and slides it across the desk. "I've been compiling a list. Teachers who might want a change of scenery, retirees who'd come back for the right offer, people with the right skills in bad situations who might be open to a new opportunity."

I flip through it. Ten names with notes beside each one. Miss Delaney is on the list, marked high potential. Mrs. Albright has a question mark beside her name.

"Good work, Paul."

"Thank you, sir."

I set the folder aside. "There's something else I need from you. Mary Hudson. The twins' mother."

His expression shifts to thoughtful. "The single mother. Struggling financially."

"Yes. I want access to her girls. Tutoring at my place."

He nods slowly. "I know Mary. Comes to every parent-teacher night alone, always sits in the back. Works at the dental clinic on Main Street. She's mentioned money being tight more than once."

"How tight?"

"Tight enough that she asked about the school's assistance fund last year. Used it for uniforms and supplies."

A struggling single mother in a conservative town, desperate to give her daughters opportunities but barely keeping her head above water. Two teenage girls, no father in the picture, bills piling up. And here I am — a generous donor with a math background, offering free tutoring in my spare time.

She won't refuse. She can't afford to.

"Call her," I say. "Tell her the girls' math scores are slipping. Mention that Hester had the same problem last semester and I helped her improve by two letter grades. Say I offered to tutor any struggling student for free, as a community service to the school."

Paul picks up his phone without hesitation. "Now?"

"Now."

He dials. I lean back in my chair and listen.

"Mrs. Hudson? This is Paul from the school. Yes, I'm doing well, thank you. I'm calling about Dana and Gina's recent math scores..."

The dominoes are falling. I can hear them.