A knock taps against the doorframe, and a woman steps inside with a clipboard tucked against her chest. She’s young, probably not much older than me, with black rimmed glasses and a friendly smile.
“Hey, gotta run,” I tell him. “I’ll call you later when I’m off.”
“Bye,” he says and disconnects.
“Hi, I’m Elena,” she says, shaking my hand. “The guidance counselor.”
“Poppy,” I say, offering my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
She glances past me at the shop floor, where a group of girls is crowded around an engine in the bay. “You’re becoming quite popular, Miss Murphy.”
I laugh. “Thanks. I’m having a lot of fun, and I’m really glad to be here. And actually it’s Mrs. Kendrick now.”
Elena smiles wider. “I heard. Congratulations! We’ve had a ton of requests for kids to switch into auto class. Mainly female students. They’re very excited.”
I smile. “That means a lot.”
“It should,” she says. “You’re doing something special. The kids are all really enjoying the class. Of course, everyone loves Jim, but it’s fun to have someone new around who gets more kids excited.”
We chat for a while, and after she leaves, I sit there for a second and let it sink in.
I eat my lunch at my desk, answering emails and jotting notes for tomorrow. I catch myself smiling again, like my face doesn’t know how to stop.
I’m teaching. I’m helping kids. I’m building something solid.
For the first time in a long time, my life feels like it’s moving forward instead of just holding steady.
And I love it.
Owen wanders in like he does every afternoon after basketball practice, backpack slung low, already mid-conversation with a few of the kids. They’re bent over an engine bay, heads together.
“No, see,” Owen says, pointing. “If you listen when it turns over, you can hear it hesitate right there.”
The older kid looks impressed. “You know a lot.”
He shrugs, trying to play it cool. “I’ve been around my sister a lot. She’s the teacher here.”
I watch from my desk, smiling and aching all at once.
Owen shows a couple of the kids how to check a belt, confident and careful, not bossy. He belongs here in a way that makes my chest swell, and he’s not even in high school yet. And then it hits me how different this is from when I was his age.
I wasn’t hanging out after school, having fun. I was working at my dad’s shop. Doing the jobs my dad wasn’t keeping up with to make sure our bills got paid and learning that my value came from what I could do for someone else. Back then my dad treated me differently. Extended praise and encouragement. But was it genuine? I think he just wanted me to work for him like a slave and take care of Owen. He never seemed to care what I wanted. I blink and wonder would I have chosen this life if I had a chance?
I shake it off and think it doesn’t matter now. I want this life I’ve made. It’s a pretty great life, actually.
I don’t want what I had for Owen. I want him to be a kid. To chase whatever makes him happy. Basketball, or engines, or something we haven’t even imagined yet. Lately, he really seems to enjoy the horses out at the Wilder Ranch, so there’s also that. Life is too short not to do what we love.
Ollie wants that for him, too. We’ve talked about it. Neither of us had a childhood that felt soft. We worked hard and were expected to be grateful for it.
Owen deserves better than Sully. Hell, I deserved better than Sully.
When we leave the school, it’s already getting dark. We swing by the general store for groceries. I grab a basket and fill it without doing the math in my head. Chicken, pasta, vegetables, and a brownie mix.
The relief is huge. I can grab groceries without counting out the total beforehand. Having a solid paycheck is everything right now.
Then I see him. Sully stands near the coolers, eyes sharp and cold when they land on us. On Owen. Then they move to me.
I lift my chin and keep my shoulders back, even though my pulse is hammering.
