Then I read about the other animals who trudge through rain and darkness to find Bear, how they won’t let anything stop them from finding their friend.
The front door chimes, and I can’t help but glance up, thinking Kathleen might have brought her son again this week. Instead a tall man walks into the store, his presence taking up a sizable amount of space. He’s accompanied by a seven- or eight-year-old girl wearing a sailor dress and white sandals embellished with silver bling, her pale-blonde hair brushed back into a ponytail.
My eyes refocus on the book, but I’m relieved to see Dr. Nemeth, hoping that he also has my book and some news. Then my relief turns to slight embarrassment that I’m wearing my striped socks and cape. I shouldn’t care what he thinks—he and I are both teachers in our own way, but his teaching is probably done in a classroom with students who don’t blurt out about their new underwear.
After adjusting my cape, I finish the story about Bear and then peruse the three books that remain unread on the table beside me. “We only have time for one more.”
The kids begin shouting out the names of their favorite books.
Smiling, I glance at the girl with Dr. Nemeth—his daughter, Iassume—as she maneuvers through the children to find herself a seat. Then I pick upStephanie’s Ponytail, another Robert Munsch classic. When I read the title, the girl smiles back at me.
I tell the story of Stephanie, a girl who wants to be different from all her classmates, wearing her ponytail different ways because each time she changes the style, everyone in the school copies her. Catastrophic for an independent girl like her.
“Time for hot chocolate,” Brie calls after I finish this story. Kids roll away like tumbleweeds, and I’m left in a quiet desert, the observer of a wild storm on the other side of the room.
Dr. Nemeth takes his daughter’s hand and moves toward me. While she has dressed up for story time, he’s wearing jeans, a lime T-shirt, and rather worn flip-flops.
I slip the pile of books beside me back into the crate. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“You too,” he says. “I read about the story time online. I just didn’t realize you’d be doing the reading.”
“Every Saturday morning.” I bat my cape back over my right shoulder. “Story Girl, the kids call me.”
The girl in the sailor dress inches up on her toes beside me. “Ilike it.”
“Thanks.”
She flings her ponytail back and forth. “And I liked the story about Stephanie.”
“I hope you don’t shave off your ponytail.”
She laughs. “Never.”
“This is my daughter,” Dr. Nemeth says. “Ellabean.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s Ella, Dad.”
He shrugs before smiling back at me. “I always mess it up.”
“It’s a beautiful name.”
She fidgets with the bow on her dress. “My mom picked it.”
“She did a fine job.”
Dr. Nemeth nudges Ella’s shoulder. “Why don’t you have some hot chocolate?”
Instead of turning toward the pack of kids, Ella eyes the castle, and I admire the way she chooses adventure over chocolate. Abold move.
“It’s fine with me if she’d like to explore inside. There’s even a slide.”
He scrutinizes the castle as if it might be in jeopardy of falling. “I’m not sure...”
“My brother-in-law built it,” I say. “He’s a carpenter.”
One of his eyebrows slides up. “A good one?”
“Journeyman,” I assure him.
