“Are you gonna teach us to rope things?”
“Uh, no. This is a nature trip, not a rodeo.”
Tommy’s face falls. “But my dad told me you were a real cowboy.”
“Well, I?—”
Faye appears at my elbow. “Tommy, have you said goodbye to your mom yet?”
“Oh! No!” He takes off running.
“Tommy, slow down and stay on the sidewalk.” She watches him go, then turns to me. “Real cowboy, huh?”
“My reputation precedes me.”
Her lips twitch. “That’s not reassuring, Mr. Evans.”
I smirk. “Wasn’t meant to be.”
Faye shakes her head as if I’m her twenty-third kid on the trip and not adult help. She’s not wrong.
The parking lot continues to fill. More kids, more parents, more bags. By seven o’clock, the class is assembled in a chaotic cluster around the bus.
Faye raises her hands, and miraculously, the children quiet down.
“Alright, class,” she calls out. “Let’s line up by walking pairs. Remember, you stay with your buddy for the entire trip. No switching. No wandering off. If you need help, you find me or Mr. Evans. Understood?”
A chorus of “Yes, Miss Rose” echoes back.
I’m impressed. I can barely get Remy to follow instructions, and he’s thirty years old.
The kids organize themselves into pairs and form a line. Parents hover with last-minute reminders to behave, listen to their teacher, and be good. To have fun but not too much.
Bettany flutters around, taking photos of everything. The bus. The kids. Faye talking to parents. Me standing awkwardly on the sidelines. She’s going to have six hundred pictures to send to the parent group chat before we even leave.
At seven fifteen, Faye does a final headcount. “Twenty-two! Perfect. Everyone on board. Walking buddies sit together.”
The kids stampede up the steps. Rhys goes with Bettany’s daughter, claiming a seat halfway in the back.
I wait until the last kid boards before climbing up myself. Rhys and his classmates bounce in their seats, loud but not wild. The driver still seems resigned to a noisy trip.
Faye stands at the front, doing another headcount, her lips moving as she ticks off names.
I hover in the stairwell, waiting. When she finishes and finds me standing behind her, her eyes widen. Because she forgot I’m around? Or am I standing too close?
I gesture to the empty front row. “Is that seat taken?”
Faye glances at the pair of empty seats, then back at me. That pretty pink spreads across her skin.
“No,” she says softly. “It’s available.”
I take the window seat, and after a moment’s hesitation, she slides in beside me. She could’ve gone to the opposite side, which is also free. But she sat with me. A silly grin splits my face.
Grow the fuck up, Ryder. I’m losing it over my crush sitting next to me on the school bus. At this rate, I’m going to prom-pose to her before the end of the trip.
The bus driver closes the door. The engine rumbles to life beneath us. Parents wave from the parking lot as we pull away, and kids press their faces to the windows, waving back.
Faye pulls out a tiny plastic case from her bag. Inside are two fabric bracelets with buttons sewn onto them.
