That was how I ended up spending most of the day in room nine at Hope Elementary with Kelli Calderon, whose baby boy had arrived very early and was doing well but she required more time at home with him before returning to school.
She showed me around her room and gave me an overview of her plans for the first two months of the year. While I was comfortable with second grade and happy to jump in, this was a huge shift for me. I wasn’t just subbing anymore. This was a commitment unlike covering a few classes when a teacher was out for professional development or a personal day. Starting a school year with a group of kids was a big deal. I had to get this right because there was no way in hell I’d turn a disaster of a class over to Kelli come November.
I had to getmyselfright. I had to accept that I wasn’t going to float through this year, itinerant and free from any real responsibility. I couldn’t phone this in. No more lazy mornings in the garden or late-night wine-and-TV binges. I had to get back into teacher mode.
After my crash course introduction to room nine, I headed to Little Star to meet Gennie. I was feeling frazzled when I rolled up to Noah’s crisp white farmhouse, partially because I’d only consumed a pudding cup and a mediocre drive-thru coffee today, but also because I’d intended to use this morning to prepare for my work with Gennie. I had a bunch of books I’d paged through but no real game plan for our time.
I didn’t see Gail Castro or her horses today, which was a surprise. When I knocked on the door, no one answered. I checked my phone on the off chance Noah had canceled. No messages.
I trundled down the front steps, my book tote biting into my shoulder and my phone clutched in my hand. For several minutes I paced the gravel drive, glancing down the worn paths cutting between the rows of apple trees and back at the house. The late August heat was oppressive, even in a breezy dress, and it wasn’t long before I felt frizz forming along my hairline and sweat behind my knees.
I ran the back of my hand over my forehead as I debated how long it made sense to wait here. I could go up to Little Star’s central operations at the old Barden house or I could swing by the Castro ranch or—
I turned as Noah’s truck thundered down the lane. Though the windows were rolled up, I caught the muffled sounds of Gennie’s voice and saw Noah motioning for her to settle down.
As soon as they came to a stop, Gennie’s door swung open. “—and we’re late! See? She’s already here and it’s no fair because—”
“You will have your playdate,” Noah said as he stepped out. “If you ask Shay, I’m sure she’ll hang around a bit longer tonight.”
“Because you made us late!” Gennie cried.
“For a good reason,” he replied. He came around the front of the truck, shaking his head. “Why don’t you tell Shay the news? She can decide if the delay was worth it.”
He caught my eye, giving me a quick nod that saidplease back me up on this.
“What’s your news?” I asked her, closing the distance between us.
Instead of putting one foot in front of the other, my shoe sank into a depression in the gravel and I teetered hard to the side. This sent my other foot kicking out which led to my shoe flying off. My bag fell from my shoulder to the crook in my elbow, which messed with my balance and sent me teetering in the opposite direction, all while I repeatedly yelped “Whoops!” and “Whoa!”
Gennie and Noah rushed toward me though I waved them off as well as I could when hopping on one foot and weighted down at the elbow. “Did anyone see where my shoe went?”
Noah took hold of my upper arm while motioning to Gennie. “Look around, okay?” He reached for my bag, saying, “Would you give me that before you face-plant in my driveway? For fuck’s sake, Shay.”
“I lost my footing,” I argued, pointing at the gravel. Of course it looked perfectly unremarkable. “It was the ground. And the shoes. They’re all wrong for this kind of surface.”
Also true but not something I was prepared to announce: sweating profusely in sandals rendered them wrong for most surfaces.
He stared at me, his eyes concealed behind sunglasses. His jaw was rigid, the little muscle up near his earlobe twitching as I studied his face.
“Found it,” Gennie called from the other side of the lane.
“Why are you shaking?” he asked, his fingers sliding up my arm.
“I’m not. I’m just a little jittery. I’ve only had coffee today.” I tipped my head to the side. “And a pudding cup.”
“Coffee,” he repeated. “Anda pudding cup.”
“Yeah. I got a call from the school and—”
“One shoe, coming right up,” Gennie sang as she jogged over. She dropped it in front of me.
“Thanks,” I said to her. I slipped it on and stepped back. Noah didn’t release me. “You’re such a big helper.”
“You kicked it really far.” She sounded impressed.
“I don’t even know how,” I replied.
“Coffee. And a pudding cup,” Noah murmured.
