When there was ten minutes left in the class, I decided to let them practice in a little scrimmage. The girls were definitely not excited about this, but when I cut my glance to Asher, I could tell from his beaming smile that he was in his element.
"Why don't you play center since you're more experienced," I told Asher. "Who likes to be defense?" Amy, a little girl with red hair, and Taylor, a large boy with brute strength, both raised their hands from the blue team, and I showed them where to stand.
Once I had people in their positions, I blew the black whistle that hung from my neck and dropped the puck between Asher and Kellan, both centers from the two teams.
I had to admit that I didn't expect Asher to be very experienced. He danced with the puck, handling it like he was much older and sharing it with the other students, like he knew not to show off. I respected him, which was strange since he was probably eight or nine.
Blue team won by two goals, but everyone genuinely seemed like they had a good time. When I blew the whistle and announced the winner, the blue team cheered. They huddled together, laughing as they slapped hands. Red team was more somber, but they were still muttering 'good job' to each other and smiling.
"Please put your sticks back into the can. Leave the colored part up so they fit better. Tomorrow we'll practice some more and have a longer game. Did you guys have a fun time?"
"Yeah!" a few of the students yelled.
"All right. Line up in two equal lines and we'll finish the class." I always had the students split into two lines and say good job to each other before we left. I knew a lot of kids from playing high school varsity sports, and the most important thing I hoped to emphasize to these kids was respect. I hopped at the end of one of the lines and did the same.
"Have a great day, kids!"
"Bye Mr. Wilson!" a few of them answered before they left.
"Hey, Asher," I said as I noticed him lag behind the rest of the group. His bag was at the far end of the bleachers, so I ran to catch up with him. "You were really awesome. Do you play?"
"Thanks Mr. Wilson!" He smiled back at me. "I'm on a travel team at the Shelton rink."
"Wow. You think you can help me out tomorrow?"
"Help you with what?" he asked. His fingers played with the loose strap of his backpack. I hoped I wasn't making him nervous.
"I can use you to demonstrate some moves. Nothing crazy. You'd really be helping me out." I pleaded with my eyes, hoping that he would do this for me. I knew that it might help him come out of his shell. The other kids would like him more, too—or at least know his name.
"I guess that's okay." He shrugged his shoulders. His eyes darted to the door, like he was looking for an out.
"Thanks, buddy. See you tomorrow then." He smiled again and walked away. I watched him leave, my arms crossed over my chest. I narrowed my eyes at the door as he walked through, trying to get a read on him. I couldn't tell if he liked me or not. It seemed like he didn't trust me. Something definitely was going on.
Wednesdays were my most packed day of teaching. I had my fifth grade group that I only saw half the week and my kindergartners who I only had once a week. They were back to back, so it was very hard to plan with my tools since their levels were at opposite ends of the spectrum.
I didn't have Western today, which relieved some of my stress. I envisioned my afternoon while I waited for the kids to come in. I would go back to Lindsay's, watch TV, and eat more of her amazing cookies. I'd do a couple lesson plans and then be set for the night. I'd probably get some pizza and pass out early on the shitty couch.
All of the fifth graders stormed into the gym at once. They threw their backpacks near the bleachers, most spilling out into the hallway. I was lucky because they went easy on me. I hadn't been able to get a good read on most of them, but I knew from my teachings that they were a tough group. They were in that in-between stage of trying to look cool and fit in, but not knowing how to do so.
I liked to keep my lesson plans consistent, so I had all of the grades doing floor hockey at the same time. It was easier to keep the same equipment out, instead of switching things around all day. Maybe I was just lazy. I was able to do a lot more with the fourth and fifth graders than the younger groups, but they still had a blast.
I had a lunch break before my last class of the day, so I walked over to the teacher's lounge. I hadn't been in the room before. I walked through the door and found only half of the five tables were full. The small room had a microwave, refrigerator, and a few vending machines with soda I knew the kids weren't allowed to have.
"Mr. Wilson?" a woman asked from behind me. I looked over my shoulder as I pressed D2 on the vending machine. My salt and vinegar chips clinked at the bottom of the machine, and I bent down to retrieve them before I turned and faced the woman.
"Hi, there. Kara Renrick." She held out her hand to me, and I shook it, noting her soft fingers. She looked beautiful—blonde hair, blue eyes with brown makeup accentuating them. Her hair hung down to her waist in soft waves.
"I'm Luke," I said as I let go of her hand.
"I'm new here, too, so I know how you feel," she said, rolling her eyes at the other teachers in the room who appeared to all know each other. They seemed cliquey.
"Do you want to sit together?" I asked as I popped open my chips and pulled one out. The vinegar was strong as it wafted up at me face.
"That'd be awesome. You're a lifesaver."
"So, do you live in the area?"
"I just moved to Fairfield County. My family is actually from South Carolina, but I went to school at UConn and was offered a job here, so I decided to stay. Are you from here?" She twirled a strand of platinum hair around her pointer finger, flirting with me like it was her main job.
"Yeah. My family lives in New Canaan. What year did you graduate?"
"Technically, I graduate in December because I had three more credits, but I'm taking the class online, so I'm basically done."
"I just graduated last December. That's strange we never saw each other."
"Oh. Well…Isn't this just awkward…" She pursed her lips and looked down at her fingers. She picked at her chipped red nail polish, little flakes landing on the table.
"What?" I asked, confused with where she was going with this. She had flipped on me, suddenly angered. "Do I know you or something?" I truly had no recollection of who she was.
"You know, I didn't think you were an asshole, but I guess I was wrong." She pushed up from her chair, the legs grinding against the tiled ground. She caught the attention of the other teachers as she stormed out of the room. They looked at me with furrowed brows.
I followed her, wanting to get to the bottom of her outrage. I had no idea what the fuck was going on, but I clearly knew this girl, and she was clearly mad that I forgot. Her heels clicked against the tile, loud and fast.
"Kara, wait!"
"Oh, you know my name now that we're alone?" When she turned and faced me, I saw her glassy eyes. I felt like shit. She wiped under her eye and then looked up at me.
"How do I know you?"
"Shit," she muttered as she crossed her arms over her chest. "You seriously don't remember?"
"I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about." I shook my head.
"We hooked up at the black and gold party after homecoming last year, and then the next morning, too. It's not a big deal. I guess you were trashed or something."
"Oh," I muttered. I could feel my stomach twist and my face heat.
"I thought you were pretending to forget because of the other teachers." She brushed her hand over her chin and glanced away.
"No."
"Well, no hard feelings. I'm good, really."
"I'm sorry that I forgot you." I didn't know what else to say.
"Friends?" she asked as she held out her hand again.
"Sure. Friends." As she clicked her heels down the hallway, I watched her butt swaying. Something was off with that girl. The conversation gave me whipla
sh. I turned and sat by myself in the lounge, finishing off my chips and Coke.
My day was finally coming to an end, and I needed some serious Advil to cure my headache. The kindergarten group bounced off the walls for a full fifty minutes, driving me absolutely insane. They loved playing with the sticks and shooting on the net. I got the feeling that they wanted to learn and enjoyed when I taught them new things, so that was a positive. I loved working with them because their minds were the most moldable.
I grabbed my now full briefcase of real papers and slung my jacket over my shoulder. I took participation into the most account for the students, so every night, I made it a priority to write a plus or minus in the date's column so I wouldn't forget. I shoved the grade book into my briefcase.
The announcements began. The walkers were dismissed from their classes first, all the students rushing from their classrooms. The halls filled with laughter and chatter. I walked alongside a huddle of students and found my way to the front of the school. I broke from the group and went towards the parking lot instead of where the buses lined up.
My phone rang in my pocket, and I saw Finn's name flash across the screen. "You get my text?" I asked him as I paused just in front of the glass entrance doors. The bell hadn't rung, so it was quiet, despite the first round of walkers.
"I did, man. How's it going? Big teacher and all that?" Finn was one of my best friends, but since he was on a professional hockey team, I never got to see him much. He traveled a lot, and when he wasn't traveling, he was practicing or rehabbing his knee.
"It's all good. I decided to start the year with floor hockey. Want to make a special visit?" I left my voice high and trailing, hoping that he'd take the bait. The kids would love it.
"Dude, I would. It's my busy season, though. New kids are trying out, and with my bum leg, who knows how I'll do. I wish I could, man. I'm just swamped with practices and rehab on the ACL."
"It's all good," I said, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice. "Let me know next time you're visiting your parents. We should hang out."
"Definitely will. Catch ya later!" I clicked the phone off and walked through the glass doors, a chill smacking me in the face. A wave of leaf-smelling air ruffled my too long hair. I spotted a Honda not too far off and immediately froze in my spot. It was a piece of shit car, but that's not what stopped me.
What the hell was she doing here?
Maggie stuck her head out of the window of her car, and I ducked behind one of the stone pillars near the front entrance where the security guard's post was. She looked angry, agitated with the parents around her as she was idling in the pick-up zone.
Her presence at the school didn't make sense to me. Why was she here? Maybe she was a babysitter or nanny or had a sibling in the school. I shuddered and frowned, rubbing my eyebrow as I watched her like a creepy stalker. I immediately glanced around me to make sure that nobody was witnessing my display of creepiness.
I was about to walk over to her car and ask her what was up when a group of students rushed out from the school. I faintly heard the bell ringing. I recognized two of the kids from my class. Kellan saw me and waved.
When I looked back to Maggie's car, her eyes were roaming around the entrance. I didn't want to be found out or caught staring. I turned around and fast-walked to my truck.
For some reason, I wanted to know what made her so sad right here, yet fiery when she was in class. Why was she even at the school? I had to ask her. I had to find out what was going on. Something about her intrigued me to a point that she had me hooked without even trying.
Chapter Eight
Maggie
I waited in line to pick up Asher at school. I had been sitting in the same exact spot behind a line of mini-vans for the last fifteen minutes. I stuck my head out the window to see if there was some sort of accident, but I just saw people chatting outside of their cars, the engines idling.
Most parents didn't bother to talk to me. I was an outcast within this strange clique of adults. It felt like high school all over again, but worse because they were screwing with other adults. I didn't care much, to be honest. As long as the kids weren't teasing Asher, then I was good with it. He was the sensitive child, not me. I could handle a little cattiness.
A bell rang in the distance, and I heard a voice yell out over the loudspeaker telling students to be careful and remember that tomorrow was a C day. I looked out the passenger side window at the glass wall of the school and spotted Asher's dark head of hair.
But he didn't see me right away. He paused at the end of the sidewalk, his head bobbing back and forth, up and down the walkway. I rolled down the window and called for him.
"Asher!"
His head whipped towards me, and then he broke out into a jog, grinning the entire way to the car as he ran between two buses.
"Hey, bud," I said as he jumped into the backseat. He threw his backpack across the bench and buckled in.
"We're getting my stick today, right?"
"After your haircut!"
He groaned, but as I checked the rearview mirror, I could swear I saw a little smile. Plus, it was worth it to get the mop off his head.
I took Asher to the hairdresser in the middle of town. The woman, Claudette, was really great with him. She promised him that he'd love his new do and that she'd make him look even more like a hockey player.
"Here he is," Claudette said and spun his chair around. He had a black cape clasped around his slender neck. I swore I was looking at a different boy. I got up from the plastic folding chair and checked him out.
His hair was cut around his ears. I could actually see them without having to tuck strands back. The front bangs were no longer getting into his eyes, and it made them stand out so much.
"You look awesome!" I told him as Claudette handed him a small handheld mirror.
"I guess it's all right." He lifted the mirror all around his head, checking himself out. He was being modest on purpose. I smiled to myself. Leave it to him to get the stubborn gene, too. He would never admit that he loved it.
"Do you want to know the best part?" Claudette asked him, bending down and placing her hands on her knees. She was treating him like a five-year-old. I clenched my jaw and tapped my foot.
"Sure," he said, shrugging.
"I left enough hair on the top that you can do a faux hawk." She spun him back around and squirted some gel into her hands, rubbing them together. She pushed her hands into his hair, almost in a prayer motion, and began to spike his hair up.
This was just what I needed. I was sure that my grandparents would have great things to say about Asher having a Mohawk, but honestly, I didn't care too much. However, they did have some leverage over me. One call to the lawyer about some made up transgression I allegedly committed, and I could lose Asher to them. It was too much of a risk.
"This is great. Thank you so much," I told her, slipping a ten dollar bill into her hand. I helped Asher down from the seat after he thanked Claudette also and then paid at the front desk.
Our next stop was the sports equipment store. It was only four-thirty and Asher didn't have practice for a little bit, so we took our time walking through the store. Every five seconds Asher asked if he could have something. I had to let him down softly.
"Can I help you?" the store clerk, Justin, asked us. I had been at this store enough times that I was on a first name basis with all the people who worked here.
"Hi, Justin!" Asher shouted and jumped up to give him a big high five. "I'm going to get the Vector. Right?" Ash looked over at me, and I nodded, rolling my eyes towards Justin.
I sat where people got fitted for skates and shoes and waited for Justin to finish sizing Asher. He had to cut the stick to make it fit Asher's height. Asher tested the stick out, bending it this way and that and pretending to shoot without a puck.
When it was cut and ready to go, I walked to the check-out desk and paid Justin. It set me back a hundred dollars, even with the twenty percent discount h
e gave me for being a frequent customer. But when I looked over at Asher, who was clinging to that stick like it was his best friend, I knew it was well worth it. His face was like a spot light.
Asher refused to put the stick in the trunk when we got out to the car. He clung to it as he climbed into the back seat and placed it beside him like it was a person. He strapped the seatbelt around it and then clicked himself in.
"I can't wait to use it tonight."
"Please, don't break it," I begged him.
"The last one wasn't my fault. That big kid tripped over it, and it just snapped."
"Okay. But if this one breaks, you're going back to your other one. You won't get a new one. So treat it very nicely."
"I will," he groaned, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Do you want to get dinner now, or after practice?" I asked him as I started to drive out of town.
"Now."
I figured it would be easier to get food at Stop and Shop than to get fast food. There was one right before the highway on the way to the rink. I was starving, so I was glad that Asher wanted dinner now. I could have gotten us a meal at the rink, but I was tired of hot dogs, hamburgers, fries, and soda.
I pulled into the crowded parking lot and luckily got a decent spot near the exit. Most people ate dinner at home, with their families, but I doubted Asher and I would ever be considered normal.
Asher leaped out of the car, and we walked together into the cold store. I hated how supermarkets were always so chilly. Of course, I never remembered to bring a sweater or anything even though I had one just lying in the back seat of the car. I grabbed a cart, and Asher stepped onto the front of it, facing me as I drove us around.
When I passed by the cereal section, he jumped off the front and sprinted towards it, yelling something about having to choose between Capt'n Crunch and Lucky Charms.
I grabbed a box of white rice before following him down the aisle. I looked up and saw a man talking to Asher.
What the hell?
For The Love of Ash Page 6