Students will take a walk down (naked, oiled) memory lane.
I stampedmy boots on the mat, dislodging wet slabs of snow as I watched the last bus pull away from the school. Bus duty was far superior to putting up with the carpool loop. Even if some of the buses always ran late, I’d never find myself fighting with a minivan’s sliding doors or directing traffic out in the middle of the street just to get the line moving.
Still, bus duty days when the cold, damp winter wind seemed to cut right through my coat and drive all the way down into my bones were rough.
Or maybe I was overly sensitive to everything right now. Every chilly day, every traffic jam, every paper cut, every last minor inconvenience made it hard to breathe. Hard to stop myself from pulling the blankets over my head and hiding from the world until it learned to treat me a little better.
It was probably a bit of both.
With frozen fingers, I pulled out my phone and fired off a quick birthday text to my best friend from back home. Highschool home, as it was. I had a lot of homes. Asking me where I was from was a ride most people didn’t survive.
I returned to my classroom but headed straight to the adjoining door leading to Jamie Rouselle’s first-grade room. The heat really cranked in there and she always had top-shelf snacks. Another bonus: I didn’t have to pretend to be a functional human with her.
I was all right because I had to be all right.
Because it was frowned upon to be an unwashed hermit who ate dry cereal by the handful and watched rom-coms only to sob-scream “Lies!” at the happy endings.
Because I had a job that required me to keep twenty-six second graders entertained for seven hours a day.
Because Grace was never more than one feisty mood away from calling off the wedding. And it didn’t matter what kind of emotional shitstorm I was living through, I wasn’t about to let her do that or throw away the money I’d spent on that bridesmaid dress.
So, I was all right. I was okay. I was capable of functioning—but only when necessary.
I found Jamie pressing a can of Diet Coke to her forehead. “How long until April break?” she asked, her eyes closed.
“Fifteen school days.” I dropped into a seat across from her at the small group reading table and dug into the bag of popcorn waiting there. “Assuming we make it that far.”
She opened the Diet Coke with a sigh. “We’ll make it.”
“Speak for yourself,” I said, shoving a fistful of popcorn into my mouth. The manners on me were A-plus. “Your class doesn’t try to stage a coup every other day.”
“I survived them,” she said, “and you will too.”
My second graders had been her first graders last year, and they were a handful. I didn’t have enough paraprofessionals to support all the learning and developmental needs in myclassroom, and the one I did have split her time with another class. The school had been trying to hire more staff all year, but now it was almost the end of March and I’d resigned myself to the situation.
Jamie tipped her chin toward the hall as she ate some popcorn. “Has Grace already left?”
Now that I’d staved off hypothermia, I shook out of my coat. “She’s meeting with the photographer before her shift.”
“You know,” Jamie started, frowning at her Diet Coke, “I want to support this side hustle of hers, but I’m worried things would change between us if I did.”
“Do you know what’s involved in a full bikini wax? I do—because I used to live with her and listen to her stories.” I shook my head. “Don’t do it. And not simply because you’d need to hold your butt cheeks open for her to get all the way in there.”
“I mean, I’ve been in stranger positions and with stranger people.”
I choked down a laugh. “You don’t need to get waxed. Moral support is enough.”
Grace had worked as an esthetician all through college. She still picked up shifts after school and over the summers, and she’d added more in the past few months to chip away at the wedding costs. From what I’d gathered, she was very good at her work—always in demand—though I wasn’t sure I wanted her ripping hair from my skin. I knew her evil side too well.
My phone buzzed several times on the table. I glanced at the screen while stuffing more popcorn into my mouth.
Wildcat: thanks
Wildcat: it’s good to hear from you
Wildcat: I was thinking about you the other day
Wildcat: any chance you’re free for dinner sometime soon?
