Getting Schooled

by Parker, Ali

  It was impossible not to stare at the most beautiful girl in the room.

  Emelia was stealing the show at dinner just like she had at the wedding six years ago. Her laughter was the same, vivacious and contagious, and she held herself with the same grace and elegance she had that night.

  Maybe even a little more.

  Paying the bill was a battle. Even though I’d invited John and Marie out for a celebration meal on me, they still were hesitant to let me pick up the bill. Emelia put up a bit of a fight too, saying she could cover her own and I’d take care of the others.

  In the end, I got my way and made a bargain with the waitress to leave the bill with me when the night was through.

  Marie had been covering her yawns for the last half hour. When full night settled outside, she looked around at the three of us. “I’m sorry. I think I have to call it a night.”

  Emelia smiled. “That’s all right. I should go too. Lots of unpacking still left to do this weekend.”

  I was speaking before my brain caught up to my mouth. “Stay for one more drink.”

  John and Marie were silent as Emelia blinked at me.

  “What’s the harm in one more drink?” I asked.

  She licked her lips. “I suppose one more couldn’t hurt.”

  John popped to his feet. “That’s our cue, honey. Grab your coat. Catch you on Monday, kids. And Em, don’t worry about what I said. The students will love you. I’m sure of it.”

  Emelia arched an eyebrow. “You can’t repair the damage you’ve done. My anxiety is going to eat away at me from the inside out until I see for myself.”

  John winced. “Sorry, Em.”

  She grinned. “Don’t worry. Karma’s a bitch.”

  Her playful side was coming out now that she’d had some time to relax over the course of dinner and drinks. John squeezed her shoulder in farewell and gave me a curt nod. Then he threw his arm over his wife’s shoulders. They made their way out of the restaurant, heads bowed together, and disappeared through the front doors and around the corner outside.

  Emelia nudged my shin with the toe of her tennis shoe. “You think they’re talking about us?”

  I flagged down a server. “I’d bet my salary on it.”

  Emelia rolled her eyes in good humor and turned to the server who arrived at our table to take our last drink order of the evening. I opted for a coffee since I’d already had two beers and still had to drive home. Emelia ordered herself an iced tea.

  “Some drink,” I mused as I sipped my coffee a short few minutes later.

  She shrugged. “Parenthood, right?”

  “Yeah. Parenthood.” I definitely hadn’t expected Emelia to be a mother. In hindsight, I didn’t know why it had never occurred to me. Of course, some other guy would have swept her up. The catch was I was fairly certain she’d moved here just her and her son. So that left me wondering. “And single parents to boot.”

  Her eyebrows lifted in a knowing micro-expression that was gone as quickly as it appeared. “I’ll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours.”

  “Deal.”

  She rested her elbow on the table and her chin in her palm and stared at me expectantly. “Go on then.”

  I chuckled and scratched at the five o’clock shadow already tickling my jaw. “All right. Where to start?”

  “When did you meet her?”

  Thankful for her guiding hand, I began sharing what I was willing to about my broken marriage. “I met her a couple months after the wedding, actually. Her name was Gwen. She was beautiful. Smart. Passionate about travel and architecture. She fit into my life like a missing puzzle piece, and I fit as easily into hers. Cheesy, I know, but true.”

  “What happened?” Emelia’s tone was soft. Her eyebrows were drawn together with concern and empathy, not pity like I was so used to seeing in the eyes of people who found out about my wife leaving me and our son behind.

  “She got bored, I guess.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.” I shrugged. “Gwen wasn’t cut out for motherhood. Or responsibility of any kind. Once the excitement of having a baby wore off and the reality set in, she bailed. Packed up her shit, called a cab, and left.”

  “That’s deplorable.”

  “Among other adjectives, yes.”

  Emelia let out a bitter sigh and shook her head. “Well, you deserve far better than that. And so does your son. How someone could be so selfish that they would—”

  “I’m glad she left.”

  “Oh?” Emelia asked.

  “Things weren’t good with her around. Not for her, me, and definitely not for Paxton. It’s hard for Paxton to navigate this new reality without his mother, but I have to believe this is better than the alternative. She’d let him down regardless of whether she’s here or on the other side of the world. It’s just who she is. When he gets older, he’ll understand. I hope.”

  “He will. He has you.”

  I drummed my fingers on the edge of the table. “Yeah. And I have him. So, your turn.”

  Emelia shifted in her seat and sipped her iced tea. When she set the glass down, beads of moisture wicked down the side to pool at the bottom of the glass and bleed onto the table. “I’m afraid my story isn’t nearly as interesting.” Her eyes widened. “Wow. That was rude of me. I didn’t mean to imply your trauma was interesting, I just meant—”

  “It’s fine.” I motioned for her to continue.

  A little red in the face, she did. “My ex, Harvey—I should have known he was bad news just by his name, you know—he was in the picture for four years. Most of Linden’s life. It was smooth sailing in the beginning. He loved Linden, and Linden loved him, and nothing ever felt like work. Harvey stepped up to the plate, knowing I was never going to put his needs ahead of my son’s, and that was fine. For the first year. And then things changed. He grew irritable. Things weren’t light and breezy but rather dark and somber. I never knew what to expect from him when he got home from work. Anger. Demands. The silent treatment.” Emelia drew her finger through the moisture on the table, leaving a wet line across the surface. She shook her head at herself and carried on like she was speaking to herself in a room with nobody else. “I should have walked away from him long before I did. The last year was too hard on Linden. It was unfair.”

  “You were hopeful.”

  Her big brown eyes swept up to meet my stare. “I was foolish.”

  “We both were.”

  Emelia drained the rest of her iced tea like it was full of vodka. Then she smacked her lips together and wiped the table down with her napkin. “I’m glad it’s in the past. Now all that’s left to do is look to the future. Linden is handling it all better than I am, I have to admit. Funny, kids, aren’t they?”

  “They certainly can be.”

  Emelia turned her gaze to the window and up at the night sky. Stars dotted the dark canvas, and part of the Big Dipper showed above the roof of the two-story retail buildings on the other side of the street.

  “Well, speaking of kids, I think it’s time I get home to mine,” Emelia said. “Thank you for dinner. And the extra drink. It was nice to catch up like this.”

  “I’m glad you stayed.”

  She smiled. “Me too.”

  After the bill was paid, we found ourselves out in the parking lot of the restaurant. The night had a chilly bite to it, and Emelia stood on the curb with her arms wrapped around herself as she called a cab. She steadfastly refused to let me drive her home, saying I’d done enough and it was no bother for her to take a taxi.

  Secretly, all I wanted was an extra ten minutes in her company.

  She gave me a firm handshake, not a hug, and wished me a good night. “I’ll see you on Monday morning?” she asked.

  “Find me in the break room. I’ll walk you to your class.”

  “Thank you.” She grinned.

  I stood with her and waited the four minutes for her cab to show up. I wasn’t wired to let a woman stand alo
ne at night waiting on her ride. I held open the door for her, and she slid across the back seat, pausing to peer up at me as she did up her seat belt. “Thanks again, Jace.”

  “You’re welcome. Goodnight.” I closed the door. The cab pulled away, pausing briefly at the exit to wait for a few cars to pass.

  I stood with my hands in the pockets of my jeans, watching the taillights get dimmer and dimmer as she drove away.

  Six years ago, I was in the backseat of a cab with her, the two of us dead set on getting back to my hotel room at two in the morning. We’d stayed late at John and Marie’s wedding to help clean up. Not that we were much help. We kept drifting away from the others in the bridal party who’d stayed behind to make out. Eventually, we threw in the towel and left.

  It was worth every second.

  I smiled to myself as I made my way to my truck.

  Life was funny. Emelia and I had fallen down similar paths, single parents, teachers, hopeless romantics at heart. And here we were, living in the same town doing the best we could to make ends meet and raise responsible young men.

  Too bad I’d let her slip through my fingers all those years ago. If I’d had any sense, that son of hers might have been mine, and she and I could have built our life together.

  But then I never would have had Paxton. And there wasn’t a thing in this world I’d change for fear of losing him.

  Chapter 10

  Emelia

  Annapolis Secondary was a bigger school than I’d initially anticipated. The township itself was fairly small, with a population of around forty thousand people. Now, most of those people were not youths. Annapolis was an older community with plenty of retired folks. It was also thriving with young new families who were new to the area, families like me and Linden.

  So, with all that in mind, I hadn’t considered the fact that I’d be starting my new job as a high school teacher at a place this large. Or intimidating.

  I adjusted the strap of my purse on my shoulder and stared up at the building.

  Annapolis Secondary was split into three sections: the entrance and main hallway down the middle, the gymnasium and multipurpose and band rooms on the right, and the tower on the left, which was four stories high. That was a whole two stories taller than most schools I’d worked in as an assistant or a substitute. Red brick walls gave way to windows and doors trimmed in white. It was an elegant building to be sure, and that was probably what made it all the more daunting.

  If it wasn’t for the banner above the front doors in yellow and blue, the school’s colors, one would never know it was a school. It could have passed for a hotel. Or a hospital from the sixties. The roof had been redone recently and was a terracotta color. Flower planters lined the walkway from the parking lot to the stairs that led up to the front door, and I imagined it was a very nice place in the spring when the flowers began to bloom. I could picture it now, the walkway trimmed with pretty pink and blue petals cascading from pots and leaving bright little puddles on the pavement.

  I licked my lips. This was it. My first day as a teacher. What I’d been working toward for years.

  “You’ve got this,” I said to myself. But my voice was weak and wavered in my own ears. I lifted my chin, hardened my resolve, and squared my shoulders. “You’ve totally got this.”

  Then I put one foot in front of the other. The heels of my tennis shoes were silent on the pavement as I made my way to the base of the stairs. There were only a couple clusters of students outside, most of them milling about on the patches of grass on either side of the entrance. Most were on their phones or had earphones in, and a couple were chatting quietly. I felt like their eyes were on me. I was the new teacher, after all, and teenagers could smell fresh blood a mile away.

  They were like hormonal little sharks with big appetites and poor vocabularies.

  When I reached the front doors, I tugged them open and ducked inside. The cream-colored linoleum floors reflected the light of the fluorescents mounted in the ceiling above, and I found myself staring down the barrel of a long, wide hallway lined in royal-blue lockers. About twenty feet from where I stood, the ceiling gave way to a glass A-frame, which let in tons of natural light.

  Determined not to let my nerves show, I marched forward. Halls broke off to the left and right, but I figured the teacher’s break room would be right off this main drag. Students were out in the halls, some of them with their heads buried in their lockers. The inside of the doors were plastered with pictures cut out of magazines or printed from their parents’ printers at home. Magnets with funny sayings winked at me as I walked briskly down the hall, hellbent on looking like I belonged here.

  For some reason, I felt like a kid again.

  That same unsureness had crept right back into my bones and made a home there.

  Back when I was in high school, I never would have dreamed I’d choose to work in a place like this. I thought I’d get as far away from schools as possible. But here I was, itching to get back and share my love of history with young minds.

  This was the right fit for me. I knew that in my soul now. It was just the new place and new smells and new faces I had to get used to.

  And boy, there sure were a lot of new faces.

  Determined not to let the curious looks from the students in the hall shake me, I kept marching, one foot in front of the other. I was about to ask someone where the break room was when I spotted a half-open door coming up on the right. Voices poured out of it—adult voices—and I slowed down and moved toward the door to poke my head in.

  Praise the lords, I thought gratefully. I’d found my people.

  Other teachers.

  They milled about the break room like grazing animals. Only instead of chewing on grass, they were sipping coffee. They stood in clusters, but I saw straight through to the back of the room for the one person I was looking for.

  Jace.

  He had his back to me. It didn’t matter. I’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere. He was dressed in a plaid button up which he’d tucked into his black jeans. His brown belt matched his boots, and he was holding a mug that said, “I Hate Kids” on it.

  I smiled as I shouldered my purse and moved into the room.

  Jace was in the middle of a conversation with another teacher when I approached. The other teacher was a slim woman with thick black glasses, purple lipstick, and wild bleach-blonde hair. When I first saw her from across the room, I assumed she was in her early thirties, but when I got closer, I realized I was far off. She had to be fifty at least, with joyful wrinkles in the corner of her eyes and about two dozen rings on her hands.

  Her deep green eyes flicked to me, and she smiled. “Hello, dear. Are you lost?”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but Jace turned, saw me, and reached out to put a hand on my shoulder. “Erin, this is our new History teacher, Emelia West.”

  “Ms. West.” Erin smiled, and her purple lipstick framed her very white teeth. She held out a hand, and I shook it. Her rings pressed into my knuckles uncomfortably. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Erin. I’m the librarian here.”

  “Hi, Erin. Please, call me Emelia. It’s nice to meet you too.”

  Erin gave Jace a knowing smile before angling herself toward the door. “I have to go. I’m sure there’s already a line up of kids wanting to get into the library to check out laptops. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better, Emelia. Have a good first day.”

  “Thanks,” I said as she slipped away, her long skirts and Victorian-style boots reminding me of a Tim Burton character. “She’s friendly.”

  “She’s something.” Jace chuckled. “Some of the kids think she’s a witch.”

  I blinked. “Pardon?”

  “You know. The clothes. The rings. The lipstick.”

  “Oh.”

  “You don’t see it?”

  I cocked my head to the side and watched as Erin ducked out of the break room. “I mean, I’d say gypsy, not witch. But that’s just me.”
>
  Jace snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Gypsy. Much more accurate.”

  I smiled. “Does she know the kids call her a witch?”

  “Definitely. That’s why she brought a crystal ball in to work, and she leaves it right on her desk.”

  I frowned. “Isn’t that a fortune teller thing, not a witch thing?”

  “Beats the hell out of me,” Jace said before sipping his coffee. Then his eyes widened, and he looked from his mug to mine. “Sorry, I’m being rude. Care for a cup?”

  I shook my head. “No thank you. I’m already strung out on my nerves. Caffeine will just give me the shakes, and my students will think there’s something wrong with me.”

  “Cannibalism,” Jace mused.

  “Or withdrawal.”

  He laughed. “You’re going to fit in just fine here, Ms. West. Just fine. Now what do you say? Should I walk you to your classroom? You have about ten minutes before the first bell goes off, and then another six before class starts. You strike me as the sort of woman who’d like to arrange her desk.”

  I nodded. “That would be lovely.”

  I wasn’t lying. It would be lovely. What would have been even more lovely was if the school let me come in last week to see my classroom and get a feel for things, but apparently, that hadn’t been an option. So today would be the first time I saw my workspace for the year. I had no issues making improvements where I needed to, so today would be all about assessing the situation and looking for opportunities.

  Jace held up a finger. “One second.”

  I waited as he drained the remnants in his coffee mug and went to the sink, where he rinsed it out, gave it a quick scrub, and set it on a towel on the counter to dry. There were already a couple other mugs there from other teachers—early birds, I assumed.