“I think we’re all set! Be there by eight.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you later.”
“Wait!” I click over to a video call, and he answers immediately, his bright-blue eyes peering at me through the screen. “Did you get a question today?”
His chin dips with a silent laugh, pulling the phone closer to his face. Every inch of my screen is covered by Malcolm—piercing blue eyes, smile lines, and his perfectly trimmed, light-brown beard on full display. “Oh, I got one,” he whispers, eyes darting around, checking if the coast is clear. “Did you?”
I pout. One of the highlights of my day is sharing the ridiculous questions and anecdotes I endure as a high school teacher. It's rather startling howout theresome teenagers can be in their thought process. Even if the majority of my classes are filled with seniors who are children approaching adulthood in a matter of months, I am constantly shocked at the things said in my classroom. Today, though, I came up short. No revelatory remarks or bizarre inquiries to share. “Aside from the penis museum, I got nothing. Now you go!”
“Well, to maintain the student’s dignity, I will keep their name off record.” He waves a tsking finger at me when I try to retort. Clearing his throat and raking his fingers through his damp hair, he says, “I was asked if you can get cancer from smoked ham.”
“What?” We stare at each other through the phone, both rolling our lips and cheeks splotching red as we fight the inevitable. I break first, a wave of cackling laughter bellowing out of me. Laughter overtakes us, and I have to hang up without speaking.
“What are you bringing tonight?” Benny’s voice startles me as he approaches.
“Cheese and rice, you scared me!” I jump, somehow hitting the back of my head against the locker then dropping the poster and my phone onto the grimy hallway tile.
“Maybe you should check your surroundings, then.” He chuckles as he picks up the poster board. “Oh, is this the infamous penis poster?” His eyes are full of mischief and delight as he attempts to unfold it.
“Did you know about this too?!” I snatch it from his greedy paws and hit him in the arm with it.
In one swift motion, my annoyingly athletic cousin jukes to my left then to the right, grabbing the poster board so fast I don’t even have time to respond. He walks into the teacher’s lounge, opening the poster and reveling in all its glory. A cackle leaves his mouth as I follow him.
“Whoa,” Ellie giggles over our shoulders. She must’ve snuck in behind us. “What a detailed presentation.” She points at different pictures on the board, belting out a trill of laughs. Benny joins her. Their synchronized pre-marital chuckling is so adorable I almost forget what they are laughing at.
Almost.
Unfortunately, the images are burned into my brain, so I’ll probably never forget.
“Anyway,” I say through gritted teeth, “are you guys coming tonight?”
“Of course,” Benny says, still heavily focused on the poster. “You think this could be used for actual scientific research?” He bites his fist to stifle his laughter. It’s unsuccessful.
“Alright, that’s enough out of you!” I snatch the poster board and wave my finger at him. “I would think our vice principal wouldn’t be favorable of this kind of presentation.”
Benny shrugs nonchalantly. “Charlie put in a lot of effort. I couldn’t tell him no. Plus, I figured it would end your week on a high note.”
“A hard note,” Ellie corrects with a laugh. “No, a limp note!”
They both burst out into hysterics, and all I can do is groan as I storm out of the break room. What’s the point of enduring their jokes if Malcolm isn’t here to enjoy it too? He is the first person I want making fun of my classroom torture, and he’s missing out on it.
“Kate, wait!” Ellie calls after me as I head into the hallway.
The crowd of bodies has slimmed to a few wanderers as we mosey back down to my classroom.
“We’re sorry. It’s just so funny. You know it is.” She hooks her arm around mine.
“It is.”
“Then what’s wrong?” She follows me into my classroom as I shove the poster board into the supply closet. I’ll just give Charlie aBand call it a day. No need to endure actually evaluating this thing any more than I already have. I definitely won’t be checking his sources of information either.
“I’m just distracted.” I sit at my desk and pull out my phone.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Ellie sits at the student desk directly opposite me.
“Will this be a friend talk or a therapist talk?” I roll my eyes.
“Ouch.” She crosses her arms, leaning back in the chair. She’s not offended by my words in the slightest, I’m sure. My attitude doesn’t hold a candle to the people she’s had to deal with as a therapist. But maybe receiving a reaction like that from a friend isn’t ideal either.
