Standing in the doorway, I listened to the trash talk as the boys elbowed and nudged each other while on screen they raced their cars around the virtual track. Feeling like I was missing out, I dragged the bean bag out of the corner.
“I’m playing the winner,” I declared, settling in.
It was getting late and the boys were fading fast. After losing the fourth straight race to a couple of kids, my ego wasn’t the only thing that was ready to call it a night.
“All right, boys. That’s it.”
“Uncle Luca…” Rohan complained with a yawn.
“Nope. Bedtime.”
“Are we staying here?” Jake asked, and I wasn’t sure if he was okay with that or not.
“Yep. Your mum’s already asleep, so you’re crashing here tonight.”
“Yes!”
“So, who’s sleeping in the spare room?” I asked, watching their enthusiasm vanish. Apparently, boys weren’t keen on sleeping in the purple unicorn room. “Or… or you can crash in here on the couches?”
Half an hour later and they’d made themselves at home in my family room and were lying in the dark, talking about how cool it was to be staying out on a school night. Giving up on trying to get them to quieten down, I headed to my own bed, but I wasn’t under any illusions sleep would come easily. I was already busy making plans on how to get on with the next step of my life. Something I was vibrating with excitement about.
Chapter Twelve – Elise
I hated Mondays. This one more than normal. I wasn’t ready for a new week and I had no one to blame but myself. After Luca dropped me off, I walked into my apartment, dumped my bag on the chair, and then lay on the couch and stared at the ceiling.
I should’ve got up and done something. I know I should’ve. But after falling down the YouTube rabbit hole, I ended up eating popcorn for dinner and binge-watching Hugh Grant movies. Spending the afternoon with Hugh seemed like a better option than working on my program.
Now I was heading towards my classroom, juggling my handbag, a bag filled with books and folders of shit I should’ve done over the weekend and didn’t even take out, and trying to balance the largest cup of coffee the café sold, all the while hoping my wine hangover would hurry up and lift before I was surrounded by kids who didn’t know the definition of an inside voice.
Stumbling up the stairs, I splashed my coffee on my shirt, and I almost cried. Not because it’d stained my pale-pink top or because it scalded my skin, but because it meant there was less in my cup to help get me through the day.
By the time I made it to my desk, I was already exhausted and not in the mood for bullshit. So when the bell rang and Nerilee came racing up to me, tears streaming down her cheeks, I wanted to hide under the desk and hope she couldn’t find me. She was so worked up she could barely get her words out.
“M-M-Miss McCoy.”
Squatting down to her eye level, I reached out and held her arms, steadying her. She was shaking all over. “Nerilee. Sweetie…what’s wrong?”
“Simon…S-S-Simon…” She was really struggling to get air into her lungs and her words out.
Looking down at the terrified kid, I noticed blood on her shirt. “Nerilee, whose blood is this? Is it Simon’s?” When she nodded, I shot to my feet and took hold of her hand. “Can you show me where he is?”
Following her, we wound around the building until I found where a group of my kids were gathered around looking completely freaked out. Hurrying my steps, I looked down and saw what had everyone worried. There Simon was, his face covered in blood. Grabbing Tara and Karenya, I sent them to the office to get some help.
After pushing the kids back a bit, I knelt down beside Simon. “Simon? Are you okay?”
“My head hurts,” he mumbled as he tried to sit up.
“Just stay still for a minute.”
“Okay.”
Half an hour later and Simon’s mum was on the way to pick him up, and I was back in my classroom. Turns out a game of tips had ended when he tripped over his own shoelaces and fell, knocking his head on the edge of the path. Thankfully he wasn’t badly hurt. A bump on the head, a couple of stitches, and he’d be fine.
By the time the lunch bell rang, I was starving. Hungry and playground duty didn’t work together. Especially not for me. Digging the bruised, seen-better-days apple from the bottom of my bag, I slid on my sunglasses and headed out into the playground.
When I got hit in the boob with a soccer ball, the result of a stray kick, I was ready to call it a day, head home, and crawl into bed and pretend today never happened. But I couldn’t. Instead, I kicked the ball back in the direction of the game, at least I tried to, and headed over to the benches to check on a game of handball that was getting heated. Who knew a tennis ball and a couple of eight-year-olds could cause so much trouble?
When the final bell rang, I was so done. After making sure they were all safely out the door, I cleaned up, got my shit, and made my escape before someone asked me a question or tried to get me to help with something. I just couldn’t people tonight.
