While Mr. Brooks told each kid which plant to pick from, Sean handed me a pair of shears and gave a quick run-down on how to harvest each of the plants. I learned about the “cut and come again” method for the lettuces and green leafy vegetables, and to loosen the dirt around the carrots to make them easier for the kids to pull out.
“What if I mess something up?” I asked, a little nervous about my lack of gardening knowledge.
“Just blame it on one of the kids,” said Sean.
I laughed, relieved to know I wouldn’t be kicked out for killing a lettuce plant. “Seriously, though, you’ll be fine. Just let me know if you need help with something.”
“Ok,” I said. “I got this. Who should I help first?”
“Why don’t you help Jaycee and Cameron with the tomatoes and then help Marcus and Emberly with the lettuce. I’ll be over in the green beans.”
I quickly got to work, helping Jaycee and Cameron find the best tomatoes, making sure we left the ones that hadn’t fully matured. Then I cut some iceberg and arugula with Marcus and Emberly. When I finished with that, I could see some kids next to the carrot patch jumping up and down chanting my name, so I strutted on over like a celebrity getting ready to dole out autographs. I loosened the dirt around the carrots, then let the kiddos work their magic. Seeing the looks on their faces when they pulled them out of the ground was like seeing the lights on a Christmas tree being plugged in for the first time. They were the most genuinely happy expressions I’d ever seen.
After everyone had finished harvesting, we took the vegetables to the water pump to be rinsed. Then the kids sat around the table under the gazebo while Sean, Mr. Brooks and I cut and chopped it all into bite-sized pieces. Mr. Brooks mixed it all together in a big bowl. “Salad time!” he called out. Most of the kids were excited, except Cameron, who whined that he hated salad. I put some of the sliced carrots and tomatoes onto his plate and squeezed some ranch dressing out on the side, which made him happy.
Once all of the kids had salad on their plates, we offered them dressing and helped them mix it in with their forks. Mr. Brooks also provided little paper cups of water and passed around some pretzels. “So, this is pretty much it,” said Sean, once all the kids were busy eating their snack. “We’ll do basically the same thing each day but with a different group of kids. The older ones are a little more self-sufficient, so it shouldn’t get any more difficult. What do you think so far?”
“It’s great! This is the most fun I’ve had in months,” I said, wondering if I sounded a little too excited about it. “Does that make me sound lame?”
“No,” said Sean, biting into a pretzel. “I think it’s fun too.”
“More salad!” shouted Marcus.
“And how do we ask for more?” said Mr. Brooks, who’d been monitoring the kids on the other end of the table.
“May I have more salad please?”
“Much better,” said Mr. Brooks. “Who else is ready for round two?”
Almost everyone’s hand went up. Seconds of salad and dressing were put on their plates. The pretzels and water pitcher were passed around again too. When everyone was done eating, Sean and I helped Mr. Brooks clean up the gazebo. Then the kids lined up and we began our walk back to the school. Yoan and Ciara wanted to hold hands again, so of course I indulged. For the first time ever, I wondered if I might have a future as a teacher. I had always seen myself doing something more solitary, like accounting or software engineering, but over the last couple of hours I’d finally started to feel like I was a part of something bigger than myself, and it was a feeling I enjoyed. I knew that teachers weren’t paid as much as they deserved to be, but clearly it wasn’t the money that attracted them. It was the feeling of satisfaction after helping a kid learn to read or add numbers, or in this case, take care of a garden, and it was something I could get used to.
We went back into the school through the same doors we had exited from earlier. Mr. Brooks held the door open for everyone. “Kids, you have a few minutes to play before you go home for the day,” he called out. Then he turned to me. “Darcy, thank you so much for coming today. It was a big help for us, and I can tell the kids really like you.”
“It was my pleasure,” I said. “I can’t wait to come back.”
“Oh, and tell Ms. Rose she should join us sometime too!”
“I will,” I said, just as he went running off toward the other end of the lunchroom to confer with the other teachers.
Sean and I went to retrieve our backpacks from the corner table. “Is Ms. Rose one of your teachers?”
“Yeah, she’s my English teacher. She’s friends with Mr. Brooks, and she’s the one who recommended this program to me.”
“What school do you go to, anyway?”
“East Point Prep,” I said, throwing my backpack onto my shoulder. I followed Sean as he stepped outside.
“So, you’re rich then,” he said with a grin.
“No,” I said frankly. “I’m there on a cleaning scholarship. Normally, I have to stay after school every day to mop and wipe down all the desks and stuff, but Ms. Rose is paying my tuition for the next month so I can do this program instead.”
“Wow. That’s really cool.”
“Which part?” I asked.
“The whole thing,” he said. “I mean, I don’t know many people who would clean after school every day just to get a good education, and I don’t know any teachers who would pay someone’s tuition so they could spend a month volunteering. It sounds like a good situation.”
“Yeah, I guess so. I feel kind of embarrassed about it sometimes, though. I’m the only one at my school with the scholarship, and I feel like everyone looks down in me because of it.” I looked over to see a bench a few feet away and decided to sit down. Sean sat next to me.
“Well, they won’t be looking down on you when you get into an Ivy League school. Colleges recognize people in unique circumstances, especially when it shows how hard they work.”
“We’ll see. So, where do you go to school?” I asked, eager to steer the conversation away from me.
“The Academy for the Arts.”
“Really? I’ve heard a little about that, but I’ve never known anyone who went there. What’s it like?”
“Academically, it’s not great, but the arts programs are some of the best in the country for high school, so if that’s what you want to major in for college, it’s a good place to be.”
“What’s your program?”
“Visual art. I draw.” He took a sketchbook out from his backpack and flipped through it in front of me, giving me a glimpse at his talent.
“Those are amazing,” I said. The sketches were of various Cincinnati landmarks, the Roebling Bridge, Music Hall, the city skyline from a bird’s eye view. They were all done with impeccable detail and precision.
“I prefer to sketch people,” he said. “I did these for an assignment.”
“Well, they’re really good,” I said. “I’ve never known anyone who could draw like that.”
He shrugged. “I’m alright.”
“Better than that” I said, lightly bumping his shoulder with mine. I suddenly felt self-conscious. Was I crossing some sort of physical boundary? I decided I should dial it back, subtly scooting away, before making a fool of myself. “So, is that what you want to go to college for?”
“Yeah, I’m hoping I’ll get into DAAP.”
DAAP, at the University of Cincinnati, is one of the country’s most competitive collegiate art programs. You typically only get in if you have high test scores, excellent grades, and impeccable artistic talent. “I bet you’re a shoe-in, with drawings like that,” I said.
Sean continued flipping through his sketchbook. Toward the end he landed on one of a girl, just from the shoulders up. Her heart-shaped face was framed by long, dark locks. She had full lips, a celestial nose, and freckles at the tops of her cheeks. “Wow,” I said. “She’s beautiful.”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” said
Sean, quickly shutting the book and putting it away. “I should probably start walking to my bus stop. How are you getting home?”
“I’m taking the bus too.”
“Do you want to walk with me?”
“Sure,” I said, popping up from the bench.
We headed in the direction of the park. The sidewalks were becoming crowded with youngish adults going in and out of the various restaurants and bars. “So where do you live?” I asked.
“Hyde Park.”
“Hyde Park?” I asked, picturing the large Victorian and Colonial houses that I silently fantasized about living in whenever my mom took Madison Road to drive me to school. “It sounds like you’re the rich one.”
Sean chuckled. “Well, my parents are both doctors, so I guess they’ve got some money. I wouldn’t say we live in a mansion or anything, though.”
“Still, Hyde Park is on a way higher level than Norwood.”
“Norwood, huh?”
I nodded. “I know it doesn’t have a great rep, but our street is nice. It’s where I’ve lived since I was in Kindergarten.”
Sean smiled, shaking his head. “I was just saying that because it’s so close to Hyde Park. Maybe when I get my car, I’ll come pick you up sometime.”
My heart leapt like a klipspringer, he wants to pick me up, but I tried to contain my excitement and stay cool. “You’re getting a car?” I asked.
“Hopefully. Sometimes my dad lets me drive his, if he’s in the right mood and isn’t planning to go anywhere, but my parents said they’d get me my own car for my birthday, if I stay on the straight and narrow. It probably won’t be a Lexus or anything though.”
“Hey, a car’s a car. I’d take anything with a working engine. I’d also take a ride in anything with a working engine.”
“Me too,” said Sean. “Anything beats the bus.”
We arrived at the bus stop and could see the Hyde Park bus coming from the next block. “Good timing,” said Sean. “Is yours coming soon?”
“I think so, but if it doesn’t, I’ll just call my mom. She’s probably getting off work right about now.”
“Cool,” said Sean as his bus pulled up to the curb. “See you on Friday?”
“Yep,” I said. I watched as he pulled his earbuds from his pocket and put them in place. Then, as he stepped up onto the bus, he pulled his wallet out from the other pocket and scanned his bus card.
I looked down the street and felt relief to see my bus coming as well. I took out my change and earbuds in preparation. After sitting down and selecting my playlist I pinched myself on the back of my hand. Had all of that actually happened? I’d just had the best afternoon of my life since starting high school. I’d met dozens of new people, and it hadn’t even been stressful. The work had been invigorating and rewarding, and talking to Sean had been a breath of fresh air. Friday couldn’t come soon enough. I put my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. Thank God for Ms. Rose, I thought.
Chapter 10
The next day at lunch I found Paige at her usual table with Audrey and Ava, and wanting to be good on my word, I sat down with her too.
“Darcy,” Paige said cheerfully, “I’m so anxious to hear about your volunteering yesterday. How did it go?”
“Great!” I said, unpacking the contents of my lunch bag. I could see Audrey and Ava were apathetic, so I ever-so-slightly turned my back, putting my full attention on Paige. “The kids were really sweet, and I had an amazing time helping them. I was so worried that I didn’t have enough gardening experience, but it didn’t matter at all. Especially since Sean was there to walk me through it.”
“Wait. Who’s Sean?” asked Paige, just before putting a dainty bite of salad into her mouth.
“He’s the other high school volunteer. He really knows his stuff, and he’s really cool too.”
“Is he cute?”
I could feel myself blushing. “Yeah,” I said. “But I think he might have a girlfriend.” I thought of the drawing from his sketchbook of the gorgeous and seemingly naked, or at least scantily dressed girl.
“That doesn’t really matter. I mean, I had a boyfriend when I met Tom, and that didn’t stop me from falling for him. If he does have a girlfriend, he can break up with her.”
“I don’t expect anyone to break up with their girlfriends for me anytime soon.” I said, especially not ones that look like Greek goddesses. “Besides, I still hardly know him. Anyway, how is Tom?”
“Good.” Paige ate another, larger bite of salad. The expression on her face had changed to one of worry. “I mean, I think he’s good. He’s been so busy with school lately that we haven’t talked very much.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, I suppose college is more demanding than high school.”
“Yeah,” she said, “that’s true.” She moved her hand above her eyes as if she was shielding them from the sun.
“Paige, are you okay?” I whispered.
Suddenly she shot up from the table and quickly walked out of the cafeteria. I looked over at Audrey and Ava. Audrey shrugged, and Ava turned back to look at Paige fleeing the scene. “Boy troubles, I guess,” she said. I waited for one them to do something, but they started talking amongst themselves about how Paige was better off with Matt. “She never got upset like that when she was with him,” remarked Audrey.
“I’m going to go talk to her,” I said, getting up from the table. I left the cafeteria and went to the hallway, where I saw her going into the girls’ bathroom. I ran after her, hearing the sound of her locking a stall just as I entered. “Paige, are you ok? Are you sick?”
“No,” she said through intermittent sobs.
“Do you want to talk? Is it something with Tom?”
She unlocked the stall and came out, her mascara smudged around her eyes. “I think he’s going to break up with me,” she said.
“Why do you say that?”
She walked over to the wall and sat down on the windowsill. I sat down next to her. “He used to text and call me all the time. If I messaged him, he’d reply almost instantly. But now, it seems like we only talk if I call him, and he’s always in a hurry to get off the phone. He’ll tell me that he’ll call me later, but then he’ll just send a text late at night saying he’s too busy studying or something. I don’t know if he’s really busy or if his feelings about me have. . . changed.”
“Maybe you should just ask him,” I said.
“I want to, but I’m too scared. I don’t want to sound needy or desperate, plus I’m afraid of what he’ll say.” She paused for a moment, blowing her nose with a wad of toilet paper. “It’s just, I broke up with Matt to be with him, and now Matt’s in another relationship, and I’m afraid of getting dumped and feeling humiliated.”
“If he does break up with you, there’s no reason you should feel humiliated. It would be his loss, right? And even then, would you want to get back together with Matt anyway?”
Paige shrugged. “Probably not. It’s just nice to have the security of a boyfriend, and I don’t want to lose it. But more importantly, I don’t want to lose Tom. I really care about him.”
“Look, I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure relationships aren’t supposed to make you feel insecure and scared. I mean, I know they take work and aren’t always perfect, but overall, a relationship with someone should make you feel good, right?” I put my arm around her shoulders. “Plus, you would probably find someone new in like ten minutes,” I said, trying to sound jovial.”
“Are you saying I’m easy?” She raised her eyebrow and frowned at me.
“Noooo, not at all. I’m saying. . . you’re Paige Evans. You’re beautiful and smart and athletic. Even if you’re being super selective, I don’t think it will take long for you to find a new boyfriend, if that’s what you want to do, and that’s if you and Tom even break up.” I watched as Paige’s mouth shifted to something resembling a smile. “I guess what I’m saying is that you should talk to Tom and get some answers, and try not to worry so much
about the possibility of not being with him. You’ve got lots of other options, one of which is being single. That I am an expert on, and you know, it’s really not so bad.”
“Really?” She asked, as if I had told her chocolate cake doesn’t have carbs.
“Really,” I said. “I can just do my own thing. I can flirt with someone, make out with someone, maybe feel like a fool the next day when they reject me, and then just move one.”
Paige laughed. “You shouldn’t feel like a fool. Tristan should feel like an asshole.”
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging, no longer feeling the raw hurt I had experienced the day after Paige’s party. “There are just more important things to worry about, you know?”
“Like what?” asked Paige, sounding skeptical.
“Climate change, poverty, social injustice. Trying to figure out what defines me. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’m starting to realize that it’s not being someone’s girlfriend.”
“That’s a good point,” said Paige. “I guess I need to figure that out too. I mean, I already wrote my essay for Ms. Rose, but I need to figure it out for more than a grade.”
“So, what did you write about?”
“Providing medical care,” said Paige sniffling and wiping her nose. “When I was in Costa Rica, I volunteered at a hospital. I brought patients their meals, kept the little kids company, and sometimes got to help the nurses with changing bandages and stuff. It’s where I met Tom. It changed my life. So now I’m starting to think pretty seriously about medical school.”
“That sounds amazing,” I said. “And I think you’d be an incredible doctor.”
“Thanks. We’ll see.” Paige stood up from the windowsill and went to look into the mirror above the sink. “I know you think my life is perfect, and it is pretty close to perfect I guess, but it’s a lot of pressure, trying to live up to everyone’s expectations all the time. I mean, if Tom dumps me, will I still be the it girl of East Point Prep?” She made air quotes when she said it.
Suddenly, I realized that maybe I had been a part of Paige’s problem, always placing her on a pedestal, frequently reminding her how flawless she was. “Paige, you don’t have to be perfect, and I’m sorry if I’ve fed into this idea that you should be. Before we became friends, I always thought you were the opposite of me; graceful, fashionable, admired by all. But now I know you’re more than just the stereotypical popular girl. You’re caring, you have empathy, you’re practical, and you’re fun to talk to. Those things aren’t going to change if you lose your boyfriend.”
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