“I’ll get you keys made today for the front door,” he clears his throat, “but I have to be out in twenty, so if you could…”
“Oh yeah,” I slide back from the counter, almost spilling my coffee, and straighten out. “I can take Daisy to school, if that makes it easier for you?” I offer.
Brighton stares at me for a second, considering this before setting the bag at the other end with a bottle of water. “Yeah…” he says. “You sure?”
“We’re going to the same place,” I remind him.
“That’s right, you… teach… gym?” It takes him a minute, and the muscle in his jawline flexes tightly as he guesses totally off base.
“Art,” I chuckle.
Please stop doing that thing with your jaw. It’s making it impossible to focus.
“Sorry, Day tells me all of this stuff about you guys, but she talks in circles.” He runs a hand through his messy hair, and all the muscles in his arm ripple in the most distracting way.
“It’s okay, I don’t really screamart teacher,” I point to myself and realize I’m wearing a sports bra and my rugby spanx, and suddenly feel very exposed. “...I’m going to go get dressed.”
Living with a man is going to take some adjustment.
“I’ll go get her up,” he says, his eyes trailing over me before snapping up with the turn of his head.
The morning students flood into the art room, and it’s clear from the moment they start huddling that something is going on they don’t want the teachers to know about. This happens on occasion; they get restless over some gossip, and everything else in their lives takes a backseat, including school.
I clear my throat, “You guys gonna let me in on the intel or ignore me the rest of the morning?” I put my hands back on my desk and lean against it with my legs out in front of me. Garth, one of the hockey boys, turns with a smirk.
“Nothing to worry you with, Ms. D.” He smirks, but when Daisy wanders into the room with her friend Lori, the room goes silent.
“Mmm.” I narrow my eyes at him, and he shrugs, taking his place at the back table with his buddy. I tap my fingers out over the table and stand up to do a circle as they pull out their projects they’ve been working on for the art exhibit at the end of the year. I stop at the table of boys, and the whispers die. “Can I see what you’re working on?” I ask.
“I left mine at home.” Henrik, one of the kids struggling through every subject, is quick to spit out an excuse.
“Yeah, Ms. D, unfortunately, we were all at Henny’s house last night working hard on our projects, and we just worked so hard into the night that we forgot them at his house.” Garth smiles at me like it’s supposed to make me believe him.
“Oh, Garth.”You stupid little fuck,I think and roll my eyes at him. “Guess you all need to start new projects,” I say, leaning over the table while looking at the six of them. “Or me and Coach Marchan are going to have a really nice conversation about your asses sitting on the bench this hockey season.”
Their smiles drop.
“You shouldn’t swear, Ms. D.” Henrik dares to say.
“And you shouldn’t lie. Guess we’re both breaking some moral codes,” I respond dryly. “Go get your extra books from the back, and they stay here. I want to see art by the time the bell rings, boys.” I pat the table before wandering away.
Daisy and Lori sit quietly across the room, with their sketchbooks and canvases strewn out on the table, working through scraps of magazines and massive boxes of junk. Daisy tucks a chunk of blonde hair behind her ear, and for the first time, I can see her father in her. Her focused face is similar to the look he gives me when I’m talking too fast, and it makesme smile as I pull a chair around and sit on it backwards to investigate what they’re doing.
“How’s it going?” I ask, leaning over to peek at what Lori’s sketching. “Is that a bullfrog?”
“I’m going to put him in a Halloween costume, but I can’t decide if he’s a devil ears and tail guy, or if I should dress him up like Shrek…” she trails off.
“Definitely Shrek.” I laugh. “He’d look pretty cute with astay out of my swampsign.” I circle a blank space on her page, and she looks up at me with a smile. “And you, Daisy?” I ask her, not realizing she has her headphones in and the volume turned up. Lori taps her, and she removes one, “What are you doing for the dream project?”
“Uh.” Daisy chews her lip.
It’s a simple project that I set almost every year because it’s one that students usually run with in the funniest ways. They’re meant to take something from their dreams and put it down on a piece of paper in any way they want to convey it. Most just draw or paint something, but every once in a while, I get a student like Daisy who works a little harder. Her brain works a little faster and a little more creatively than the rest of the kids.
She’s got a base of scrap paper, randomly glued to the page, and at first glance, it looks harmless, but then I realize most of the scrap paper is darkred, yellow, or a heavy blue color. She’s sketching on top of the mixed media, and I can’t really tell what it is because of the different tones, but her fingers are covered in pencil, and she throws her arm over it when she sees me inspecting it.
“It’s stupid and not finished,” she says quickly.
“Alright,” I say, throwing my hands up. One of the older girls, Carly Stepson, parades into class ten minutes late, cutting off my train of thought, and Daisy’s expression goes from concentrated to terrified as the girl wanders over to throw her arms around Garth. “One ruler apart, Carla, you know the rules.” I snap my fingers at her.
