“Dog Leash Dude!”
“Oh. Well . . . it’s been a while. You guys were overdue.” Kent, or Dog Leash Dude as he’d come to be known among their circle of friends, had been a thorn in Hannah’s side throughout the summer. He’d tacked up posters all over Kendal and the neighboring towns on his personal crusade to keep dogs on leashes and to dissuade the public from voting in favor of the proposed dog park. But he’d taken things a step too far when he attempted to affix a poster to Hannah’s storefront windows. She’d chased him away, and understandably so, as owner of The Barkery—a doggy wonderland filled with homemade treats, toys, and a state-of-the-art day spa.
“I thought I’d finally gotten rid of that pest, but there he was, popping up out of nowhere, totally putting a damper on my day.”
“Oh, Hannah, c’mon. Are you seriously gonna let that guy get under your skin? You’re the most bubbly, cheerful person I know. Don’t let him get the best of you.”
She blew out a sigh. “You’re right. I have better things to think about. We’re fully booked today, and I’ve got a speed dating consultant coming in later to chat about my idea.”
Rebecca leaned against the wall next to her office. “You’re still going through with the dog speed dating event?”
“Of course! I’ve mentioned the idea to some of my clients already, and they’re completely on board.”
“I see. And does this consultant know that you’re consulting about dogs and not people?”
Hannah didn’t speak for several seconds. “I don’t think I specified, but what should it matter? It’s the logistics that are important. I’m gonna get these dogs their happy-tail-wagging-ever-after, damn it!”
“You really need to get laid.”
“You’re one to talk. Hey, any luck on finding a younger man yet?”
Rebecca opened her mouth to speak, but low moans and heavy panting stole her attention. Alarming, since it was coming from her end of the line. Her eyes scanned the hallway, then landed on the culprits. “Oh, jeez. I gotta go. There’s a pair making out in the hallway who are creeping into way-too-hot-and-heavy territory. How do they hook up on the first day back?”
“Hormones, baby. Long-dormant hormones.”
“I’ll call you later, hon.”
“Godspeed!” Hannah gasped. “Oh, my God. That’s it.” She could practically hear the lightbulbs blinking to life inside her friend’s head. “Dogspeed! That’s the perfect name for my event!”
Laughing, Rebecca ended the call, then put on her best “I mean business” teacher face and headed toward the pair playing tonsil hockey. Some things never changed.
3
The first month of school raced by in a blur. It usually took about that long for Rebecca to settle into a routine and figure out which students were buying in and which were going to require a different approach. She’d lucked out this semester with her teaching timetable. In the morning, she taught a senior girls Phys. Ed. class, followed by a ninth-grade girls Phys. Ed. class. After lunch, she had her co-ed fitness class, and her day ended with a seventy-five-minute prep.
She’d also lucked out in sharing gym space during period two with Margaret Robinson, her mentor and the woman she most looked up to, besides her mother. Margaret taught two sections of dramatic arts, in addition to her ninth-grade boys Phys. Ed. class. She could appreciate why Margaret liked to immerse herself in both subjects, as they were both very physical courses, designed to get students up and moving, problem-solving, and interacting with one another in a deeper, more meaningful way. But Rebecca much preferred the calmer chaos of basketballs bouncing on the gymnasium floor or the squeak of soles against hardwood to the assortment of bizarre—and sometimes distressing —noises that often emanated from the drama classroom.
“It never ceases to amaze me how well-trained your students are,” Rebecca praised her while the boys in Margaret’s class cleaned up the equipment spread around the gym without complaint. Rebecca had sent her girls to get changed.
She couldn’t blame the kids for falling under Margaret’s spell. After all, Rebecca herself had been put under that spell over twenty years ago. Tall and slender, Margaret carried herself with the grace of an athlete, her posture never wavering. She had a sparkling personality to match the silver-streaked hair that fell halfway down her back. She was kind, but she expected the same in return and wouldn’t take anything less.
Margaret smiled. “Only took me thirty-two years to get here.”
Behind that feigned modesty was a competitive streak Rebecca envied most of all. Margaret was good at her job, and she damn well knew it. And the shrine of teaching awards in her office proved the school board knew, too. “You’ve always been an incredible teacher.”
“My star pupil,” she returned with an affectionate wink. “Plug your ears for a second, hon.” Pressing her index finger and thumb together in her mouth, she whistled so shrilly, the boys all stood at attention. “Thanks, guys! You can go get changed now.” Turning her attention back to Rebecca, she asked, “How are the rest of your classes going?”
“Pretty good, for the most part. I’ve got a couple students in my senior class I could use a bit of help with. I know you’ve taught most of them before. They’re a good group, but these two wild cards kinda throw off the whole dynamic, ya know?”
“Come see me during your prep this afternoon. We can talk about some potential motivational strategies . . . among other things.”
She raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Other things?”
“Oh, you know, young people things. The goings on in your life, the latest sneakers you’ve added to your collection, your romantic interests . . .”
“I love how you just so casually slipped that last bit in there.” Her thoughts shifted to Towanda then, and she was reminded how nothing had come from her palm reading yet. Maybe it was foolish of her to believe something would. “It’s drier than the Sahara in these parts.”
Ever the optimist, Margaret said, “Perhaps we’ll get a new hire.”
“Really, Mags? You know I don’t date teachers. Derek Campbell kind of killed any possibility of that ever happening again.” Her ex-fiancé formerly taught at Kendal High, but the history teacher quit not long after marking the historic end of their relationship. And even two years after the fact, there were certain teachers in the building who spoke fondly of him. Like he hadn’t ripped out her heart so he could “find himself” à la Reese Witherspoon in Wild. “Besides, no one new ever comes here. People usually stay until they croak,” she added pointedly.
“Or retire. I’m out next year, if I can last that long.”
All jokes aside, Rebecca was dreading the day Margaret left the school. Not simply because of their personal connection. She was the undisputed heart and soul of Kendal High, involved in every initiative, organizer of plays and countless staff/student events, club supervisor, coach, and certified giver of the best advice. “If you go, I go.”
Margaret shook her head, smiling. “Silly girl.”
The bell rang for lunch, which meant she had about ten minutes to scarf down her food before heading back to the gym.
“I do actually need to go.” She laughed. “I’ve got lunchtime supervision. I’ll see you this afternoon!”
“Sounds good. I’ll snag some cookies from the culinary arts class to help us concentrate.”
Rebecca squeezed Margaret’s shoulder as she rushed by. “See, this is why you can never leave, Mags. You’re invaluable.”
Will drove through the bustling streets of Kendal, a bit stunned to see so much activity. In all honesty, he was anticipating a sleepy little town, but he should have known that was far from the case after his first encounter this morning. Since he’d be teaching at Kendal High School every Wednesday through Friday, and it was a two-hour, bumper-to-bumper round trip from the city where he attended his college classes on Mondays and Tuesdays, he’d decided to rent a basement apartment to avoid the daily commute. Carmen Deacon’s beautiful two-story
home on Crescent Street seemed like the perfect solution.
When he’d popped by for a viewing, he was glad to learn the basement had a separate entrance because the woman all but devoured him with her eyes. But the rent was reasonable, and there was another guy living in the upstairs unit, so it couldn’t be that bad. And if it was that bad, he had his apartment in the city to crash in.
His practicum lasted for two months, but he signed a lease for three. Clearly no slouch when it came to negotiating, Carmen got him to agree to the extra month, whether he stayed there or not, saying she wouldn’t be able to find another renter in December anyway. He couldn’t imagine a scenario where he’d opt to stick around for that extra month, but stranger things had happened, he supposed.
At a stop sign, he glanced around the town square at the fall decorations strewn about and marveled that they were already into October. The first month of his program had flown by. After that disastrous dinner at his parents’ house, he’d immersed himself in his studies, more determined than ever to earn his teaching certificate in physical education. He hadn’t spoken to his parents since then, which was probably for the best. They all needed some time to cool off. He just hoped they’d come around to his way of thinking. It didn’t matter to him if they ever accepted his new career path, but he’d be damned if he let them erase Aly from their family.
Pressing the accelerator, he carried on in the direction of the school, memories of his sister flickering through his mind like a film reel. Despite the ten-year age difference, they’d bonded early on and were sort of kindred spirits in a way. They had the same sense of humor, liked the same foods and the same movies. He’d been the one to introduce her to the best flicks the ’90s had to offer. They’d made pillow forts in the den, popped popcorn, and binged on hours of terrible action movies.
When he’d left home to go to school, she wrote to him a lot. And he usually responded. But as the years went on, the letters became fewer, or maybe he just didn’t write back as much as he’d done in the beginning, and every time he’d visit home, she looked a bit different. Her smile was gone. Dark shadows swallowed the space beneath her blue eyes. He figured her sullenness was a symptom of being a teenager, that she was staying up late and neglecting her sleep like most other kids her age. She claimed she was in the running club to explain away her thinness, but most of the time she hid her figure beneath baggy clothes so no one asked any questions.
The signs of her eating disorder were there, lurking below the surface, but hidden enough that they’d all missed them. And then came the blame game. How could they have missed them? How could he? Why hadn’t she asked them for help? Why hadn’t she asked him for help? He could have done something before it was too late.
He let his foot off the gas as he turned onto Tupper Street. Kendal High School loomed in the distance, and suddenly, the reality of the situation he found himself in made his throat constrict. He pulled the car over to the curb and gulped down water from the bottle he’d tucked into the cup holder. “Whitney, you’re being ridiculous,” he told himself. “Today is just a test run.” He’d exchanged a few emails with his mentor teacher, Pete Derenberger, and they’d spoken once on the phone to set up a meeting at lunch. Pete planned to show him around the school, and Will would shadow him for the afternoon.
He took another drink and glanced at his watch. Lunch started in five minutes so there was no more time to waste. Showing up late was out of the question. With a firm nod, he returned the bottle to its holder, flicked on his signal, and pulled back onto the road. The large brick building grew closer and closer. A strange sense of calm enveloped him at the sight of several teenagers hanging out on the front steps, soaking up the sunshine. They didn’t look too intimidating from his vantage point. He pulled into the parking lot and found a spot in the section designated for staff use. Staff. That has a nice ring to it.
Climbing from his car, he checked his reflection in the window, satisfied with his appearance. He’d worn tan dress pants and a plaid button-down shirt in hopes of making a good impression. Doors locked, shades on, he strode toward the front entrance of the school, his confidence surging with each step. The cement walkway narrowed into a rail-guarded incline. As he passed by a couple of teenage girls who sat atop the railing, one of them wolf-whistled then called after him, “Now there’s a hot piece of ass.”
Dumbfounded, Will spun around to the pair openly gawking at him, then struggled with what to do next. He couldn’t exactly reprimand them, could he? He wasn’t an official teacher yet, but he’d be teaching there next week and it was so not okay for them to make such comments to a soon-to-be-teacher. Oh, Christ. Instead of saying anything, he frowned and hurried for the front door.
Once inside, he tucked his shades in the open collar of his shirt and wiped the sweat from his forehead. There weren’t too many students in the foyer, but all female eyes seemed to be focused on him. He had no idea where Pete’s office was or even the main office, so he figured he’d ask a student, deciding it would be safer to approach one of the males.
“Hey,” he said to a guy leaning against the wall, studying his phone like it held the answers to all of life’s mysteries. “Can you tell me where the Phys. Ed. office is?”
Not bothering to look up from his screen, the teen wordlessly pointed to his right.
“Uh, thanks,” Will said. He walked toward the bright blue hallway indicated. Aggressive music thumped through speakers teenagers carried in their backpacks. Loud chatter fought to drown out the already ear-splitting noise. Some teens sat right in the middle of the hallway eating their lunches, some stood in groups and stared at their phones, and some preferred to practice their French skills on one another. Sheesh. His high school hadn’t been anything like this. For starters, everyone had worn uniforms. Here, they wore hoodies, baggy jeans, crop tops, and other questionable styles.
Reaching a suspiciously quieter section of the hallway, his ears were grateful for the break. He paused as he encountered an intersection, where the blue hall met a green hall. It was nice things were color-coded. It probably helped people who had at least some clue where they were going.
“You lost, sir?” He turned to his left to see the braces-filled smile of a ninth grader, he deduced, judging by her height and the fact that she wasn’t eying him like he was a piece of meat. The “sir” part was unsettling enough.
He smiled in return. “Yeah, I am a bit lost, actually.” Literally and figuratively. “Could you tell me where the Phys. Ed. office is?”
She cocked her head. “Next to the gym.” So nice of her to leave the “duh” off the end of her statement. “Straight ahead.”
Ah, good. The other kid hadn’t steered him wrong. “Perfect! Thank you so much.”
“You here for an interview or somethin’?”
He glanced down at his outfit. “Sort of. I’m a teacher-in-training, and I’ll be practicing here starting next week.”
Her smile stretched wide. “Oh, cool. I guess I’ll see you around, then.”
“Guess so,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m Wi—er, uh, Mr. Whitney,” he said, stretching out his arm.
She shook his hand. “Magenta.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“My parents met at a screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, the stupidest movie ever. Anyway, good luck, Mr. Whitney.”
He laughed. “Thanks again, Magenta.”
She waved and darted back to her group of friends. She was a really cool kid. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here after all.
“Why does it smell like a damn pumpkin pie in here?”
Rebecca tore her gaze from the computer screen and turned toward the door. Pete’s burly frame barely squeezed through the opening of their shared office. He raised the collar of his shirt over his nose as he stomped to his desk, as if he preferred his own body odor to the warm, inviting smell of autumn.
Shrugging, she answered, “Pumpkin spice air freshener.”
He rolled his eyes.
“This is a sickness. You know that, right?”
“Hey, it’s better than the sweaty gym socks alternative.” She was used to the usual unpleasant aromas that came with working in the Phys. Ed. department at Kendal High School, but the boys this semester were a particularly ripe bunch.
“Got my student teacher coming in today. He’s meeting me and the kids before he starts next week, just to get a feel for the place.” Opening the mini fridge, he grabbed the grocery bag inside containing his lunch, which usually consisted of at least three courses.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Hey, grab mine, too,” she said before he’d shut the fridge door.
He obliged, nosily poking his head inside her lunch bag. “What is that, a veggie wrap?”
“Roasted red pepper, eggplant, and extra garlicky hummus.”
Shuddering, he tossed her the bag and took a seat at the desk opposite hers. “Now you’re gonna have garlic breath all afternoon, Ledgey.”
“Exactly, and I’ll threaten to breathe on the little punks if they don’t do as I ask.”
“Harsh. I like it.”
She smiled as she bit into her wrap, chewing as quickly as she could before her lunchtime supervision in the gym started. “So, what’s his story?” she asked. “The student teacher.”
“Graduated from Columbia and worked at some big ad agency. Can't believe he quit to become a teacher.”
“Our lives are so glamorous. Everybody thinks so.”
He snorted as he poured dressing over his salad. “Probably got fired for screwing his secretary.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes, but it was hard not to let her own mind wander there, however briefly. For a guy to take such a one-eighty in the career sphere . . . must have been something major that spurred on the decision. She couldn’t deny her curiosity. Checking her watch, she chomped into her wrap again, because she couldn’t deny the students their gym time at lunch, either.
A knock at the door captured her attention. Normally, they’d battle it out with a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who’d have to answer it, but Pete was already on his feet.
Learning to Love Page 3