“Looking up ideas?” Fritz asked, writing down something ineligible on the idea pad of paper. “I think if you wore different shoes, wore half your hair one way, and the other half different, that’s a good start.”
“I’m emailing Fred.” Fred had been Fritz’s and my fiduciary since our inheritance was released from the trust. Every transaction involving my money went through him.
“Um, thought we agreed for you to not spend money.” Fritz frowned at me and tilted his head to the side. “Gil, come on. Youjustagreed, and you’re flaking out?”
“No, I’m emailing him to make sure I don’t have access to any money for the month, except for my paycheck. I’m updating my spreadsheet of exactly how much I need for food, gas, utilities for the next four weeks, and that I cannot touch anything else. Not a dime. Then, I’m giving you my credit cards.”
“Whoa,” Grace said, her eyes going wide, and her tone impressed. “You’re taking this seriously.”
“While you two were brainstorming, I was daydreaming about sneaking off to the store and not telling you.” I looked at my best friend and brother and refused to feel guilty that maybe I was a bit high maintenance with money. “I want to get rid of any temptation so this guy can’t say a single thing and”—I paused to swallow my pride—“I need to prove it to myself that I’m more than money.”
“Well done, Gil,” Fritz said, grinning at me as he clicked his tongue. “Once you get that figured out, let’s come up with your outfits all week.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Dang,I wish I could spend money. Knowing I couldn’t intensified the urge. I could always call my advisor to have him unlock my account, but that defeated the whole purpose. My normal confidence shattered into pieces when I got to school and saw teachers decked out in all sorts of opposite gear.
One third-grade teacher had an outfit that had one side white, the other side black. It was incredible. I nodded at them as I walked into the building with my teacher bag and hot tea, but it faded when my gaze landed on Christopher—who was walking backward as he talked to Kennedy.
“Oh, you’re so clever!” she said, putting a hand on his arm, and he grinned down at her with amusement in his eyes. “I love it.”
“Thank you,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his. “I might look like a doofus, but it’s fun. Your idea is great too. Big fan of the crazy hair.”
I wanted to vomit. He was flirting with her even though her opposite day outfit was lackluster. His, though…
I gritted my teeth as my anger flared. He’d dressed like a student all the way from the light-up shoes, the blue shorts, a school T-shirt, the backpack, the name tag, andwhat the heck?
Jonathan Simpson, one of the students both Christopher and I had, walked out of his Christopher’s classroom wearing a blue sweater with elbow pads, gray pants, and a name tag that saidMr. Callahan.
Damnit! His idea wasawesome.My inside-out clothes and opposite shoes seemed silly in comparison to his student-teacher opposite idea, but I stood taller as I approached our classroom doors. He stopped walking and grinned at Kennedy before she kept heading down the hallway to the fifth-grade wing.
“Well, best of luck, Ken. I’ll see you at lunch.” He held out a fist to Jonathon. “See you in twenty minutes, yeah?”
The kid nodded, but my brain was stuck on how everyone seemed to like Christopher besides me. He’d called her Ken. He had a nickname for another teacher after just one week, and he looked at me like he wanted me to burn alive? Yeah, this was so not fair. My plan was to speak in opposites all day and do a handstand for my class as often as I could. Now those ideas seemed to evaporate when his icy-blue gaze landed on me.
He pressed his lips into a flat line as he scanned me up and down, his nostrils flaring. “Not a dime, huh? I doubt that.”
“I didn’t spend anything,” I seethed, my face burning hot. “I already owned every item of clothing I have on. Trust me.”
He made a face that said he did not believe me, but he arched one eyebrow and smirked like he knew he’d won the competition. He stepped closer to me, and his subtle cologne tickled my nose. “Wearing your clothes inside out is a little too cliché, don’t you think?”
“It’s fun and clever and cheap.”
“It’s interesting,” he said, dragging out each syllable as his tone dropped. “You’re just proving my point over and over.”
“What point?”
“Youthinkyou’re so creative and fun,” he said, his gaze dropping to my mouth for one split second. “But you’re not. The first time you’re challenged to not steal or bribe or buy your way into first place, you’re average.” He barked out a humorless laugh and straightened his posture as he gloated. “Man, it feels so good knowing I’m right.”
He spun around and moved to his classroom before I had a chance to react. My eyes stung, and my stomach hollowed out at the underlying doubt I carried around. I did think I was creative, and my students loved all the fun stuff in my room. They fought to take turns with whatever new gadgets I had, but now…I hated that they made me feel gross.
Like I did buy my way into being their favorite teacher.
I grabbed a tissue to make sure my momentary tears didn’t ruin my mascara, and my hands shook a little as his words played over and over in my mind. The seed of doubt was growing into an entire tree in my soul.
I didn’t have to wait long. The familiar sounds of the rumbles and engines of the buses carried through the windows and excited little voices echoed in the hall. Students were here.
They’d attended school for half days the Thursday and Friday before. Today was the first full day of class, and my belly danced with butterflies. My crazy pink-and-purple dress was worn inside out, my shoes were different, each knee-high sock was a plethora of colors, and I used body glitter to cover my arms and face. I positioned myself outside my classroom door and didn’t have to pretend to smile as the first group of kiddos came walking my way.
