After breakfast, I shower, dress, and kiss my mother and Snorty goodbye for the day.
“Don’t give Snorty too many treats,” I say, leaving the house.
The cold morning air wakes me up more than the coffee ever could. I bundle my coat tighter around me as I walk the two blocks to the train station.
It’s just a normal day. But the second I walk through the school doors, I feel it. Eyes on me.
Not from the kids. From the staff.
They’ve seen the tabloids.
I hadn’t thought of that when I was in Las Vegas.
As a group, my fellow teachers don’t seem the type to read gossip.
But then again, they seemed judgmental enough for me to disguise myself with fake glasses and schoolmarm clothes.
I keep my head down as I walk to my classroom. But Mr. Walker appears in the doorway before I can set down my bag.
“Maddie? Got a minute?” The tone says everything. I follow him into his office, sit in the hard chair.
He doesn’t waste time. “It’s official,” he says. “The district cut the program.” The words hit like a slap. But outwardly, I barely blink.
“I see.”
He swallows. “You’ll finish out the three remaining months of the school year. After that, it’s done. I wish I had better news.”
I nod once. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Don’t be disheartened. Three months is more than enough time for you to find a new school. A new position. I’ll help you.”
“I appreciate that. But that's not my objective. I'm not leaving my students to fend for themselves. They won't survive a larger school. I’m trying to get the funding we need, right now. Right here.”
“Well, good luck to you,” he says. “Good luck.”
The rest of the day passes quickly. Yet I stop every so often to document student activities. Or take pictures of students proudly standing next to their finished projects.
At the end of the day, I sit at my desk and pull out my laptop.
Things hadn’t ended well with Mr. Lemon. But if I explain myself properly, I feel certain he’ll understand.
It takes more than a few practice tries to get the tone of my email request right. But when I finally do, I attach the pictures of the students, insert my report, and then press the ‘send’ button on my keyboard.
As soon as I do, I feel as if an enormous weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
I’ve done everything I can. For the kids. For the school. For my mom. And for myself.
The rest is up to fate.
CHAPTER 35
RIO
The icy New York wind slams into me like a pissed-off ex, whipping my face the second we step outside from baggage claim.
Keith barrels out behind me as we watch our limousine approach the curb.
"New York, you beautiful bitch!" he bellows, diving into the limo's fridge for a beer before the door even swings shut.
