FAITH
Five Days Later
Today’s fieldtrip went smoother than I thought it would, given the circumstances I'm under. Though I'm not one hundred percent yet, I still gave it the best I had. Thank goodness for chaperones.
We return to the school. Each kid unload themselves off the bus one by one. Some of the parents are already here to pick up their children, and the remaining few that are left, come back with me inside of the building.
We get settled into the classroom and kill time with drawing, coloring, puzzles and such. Everyone seems content, smiles and playful laughter vibrating the room, everyone except her—my star student. She stands by the door on her tiptoes, fingers tightly gripping the windowpane as she looks out. She has not been herself today, and she won't tell me what is exactly wrong with her.
“Logan, sweetie, come have a seat.”
She turns my way and reluctantly follows my orders and goes back to her desk. She did tell me she missed her dad. Maybe that's what's bothering her. I go over to her desk just to check one more time to see if there's anything else she'd like me to know.
“Is everything okay?”
“I'm fine,” she says.
“You don't look fine.”
“I am.” She hides her face in her arms, lays her head down on the desk. I try to lift her head again, searching those pretty eyes and say, “You can talk to me, Logan.” But she doesn't say anything back. I'll leave it alone for now.
The school bell rings for the end of the day. Everyone jets out of the door, including Logan. I chase after her and grab her backpack from behind.
“Logan your dad isn't here yet. I don't want you to have to stand out there. It's too cold. Let's wait in the class until he comes, okay?” She agrees and heads back with me, taking quick glances back and forth at the front of the school.
“He's outside. I know he is,” she says.
“Well if he is then he'll come in here and get you like he normally does.”
She again goes back to the classroom door and stares out of it impatiently.
“Where is he?” She mutters.
“Come on. Come over here by me.” I take her by the hand and walk us back to my desk. Crayons, pencils, markers, construction paper, I set it all before her so she can keep herself occupied until he comes.
“What's all this for?”
“Don't you like to draw?”
“I do, but I don't want to today.”
“How come?”
“I don't have anything to draw.”
“Well, you could write then.” I hand her a good pen and some college ruled loose leaf.
“About what?”
“Today. The fieldtrip.”
“And say what?”
“Well, you could write about how much fun it was. Maybe write about what you learned.”
“Why do that when I can just tell you?” She says so seriously. I'm not even sure if I should laugh or what. This is not a child I'm talking to.
“Okay, well tell me, how did you like it?”
“It was okay.” It's that casual response that makes me second-guess that maybe that trip wasn't as great as I thought it to be.
“Well did you like anything about it?”
“Um, maybe one thing.”
“What was that?” I hope she gives me something to brag home about.
“Leaving.” She grabs a marker from out of my pail and begins scribbling on her paper.
“Why'd you want to leave?” I'm curious to know now because, from the looks on all of the other kids' faces, I could tell that they enjoyed themselves so why not her?
“I don't like planes. It's for boys.”
“That's not true. Don't you remember the first woman to fly a plane?”
“She looked like a boy.”
I giggle and snort unexpectedly. She smiles at me and busts out in a laugh herself.
“Amelia Earhart did not look like a boy,” I tell her. “Okay, you don't have to say anymore. I understand.” My chuckling subsides, and she goes back to doing whatever she is doing on that paper; drawing and writing and humming. I take a look at her work.
“You really love your dad, huh?”
“Yeah. He's my favorite guy.”
“That's good. What about your mom?” My question seems to make her speechless. She never parts her lips to answer me even though I wait for one. And just as I feel like asking her again, a knock sounds on my door.
“Logan, your favorite guy is here,” I nudge her. She jumps out of her seat and dashes over to what's temporarily keeping them apart. She swings the door open and leaps into his arms.
“Hey beautiful,” he says. That hug looks so warm I almost feel it myself.
“I'm so sorry I'm late, Ms. Faith. Please forgive me.”
I wave him off. He doesn't need to apologize to me. I love being with Logan.
“It's really no problem. I know things are busy.”
“Yeah…” he stops as if he wants to say something else but doesn't.
“Well thank you so much for keeping her for a little bit. I've never been late like this before.”
“Mr. Wilhite, it was no problem, honestly. Logan is a pleasure to be around.”
He fixes her hat and pulls tight her hood. She turns to me, waves goodbye. Those two are the cutest combo I've ever seen.