“THIS BUS IS sick, yo.” Maya and Jayden run their hands along the smooth white exterior as they stare at their ride for the field trip. Leo stands beside me, chewing complimentary pastry noisily in my ear as the students file onto the massive, gleaming double-decker bus parked outside the school. Vinea has somehow set up a breakfast cart on the curb, with smiling servers keeping up with the masses of Franklin students clambering for croissants and cold-pressed juices.
Leo elbows me in the ribs. “She sent food for the whole school, you know. Not just the kids going on the bus.”
“Mmm.” I grunt at him, fidgeting with my clip board, suddenly wondering if I’m under dressed again for this adventure in a shirt, tie, and sweater vest. The bell rings for first period and Leo starts wrangling seventh graders inside the vehicle. I climb inside and am hit with a fresh scent. The air doesn’t smell like bus air at all. The temperature is cool, the ambient music is soothing, and the driver grins at me as I make my way to the top level to count students, who are all beside themselves stroking the leather arm rests and adjusting their overhead lights.
Margot raises her hand and I nod at her. “Mr. T…this is amazing.”
I nod. “It’s really something.”
“Mr. T?”
“Yeah, Jayden?”
“This company has fuck-you money.”
The kids burst out laughing and I take a deep breath, reminding myself they are young tweens exercising their independence. Margot grimaces, and says, “They must be rolling in ice if they can casually send this sort of stuff for us.”
I nod at her. “Vinea is on the brink of becoming publicly traded on the stock market. Do you all know what that means?”
Margot and her classmates shake their heads. The kids I grew up around talked about investments at the breakfast table. My students rely on the school to provide their breakfast. “Well.” I fidget with the clipboard again. “We’ll go over it in a little more detail later, but let’s just say your first impression is pretty spot on, even if your language is crude.”
Eventually, with all students accounted for, I head back down to the first level of the bus, where Leo pats the seat beside him, smirking. “I heard that.” He takes a sip of coffee.
“How did I miss the coffee? I only saw ginger carrot juice.”
Leo hands me a coffee and winks at me as I inhale it greedily. I can’t hold back the moan of pleasure. I need to find out where Vinea orders their coffee and start ordering these beans by the bushel. “AJ, I’m just saying, there might be another explanation for why CEO Vine would roll out this kind of bling.” He emphasizes each syllable of CEO with a fist pump.
I raise a brow at him, too blissed out by the coffee to engage him with proper sarcasm.
“She could be trying to impress you.” My eyes widen at him. “She could be trying to get in your pants.” He pops the P in pants and nudges me with his shoulder. The bus lurches forward and the students all start applauding before I can tell him he’s being ridiculous.
All morning, as the kids are treated like royalty, I should be focused on the career readiness information Samantha’s staff is presenting for the students, but I can’t get past Leo’s suggestion that this decadent, wet dream of a field trip might in some way be an effort to impress me. Someone like me.
I remember my first interaction with Samantha at the nonprofit thing and decide it’s possible I misjudged her. Although, come to think of it, we haven’t seen her yet today.
Shane, who I remember from the last time I was here, is breaking the students into groups to test out Vinea’s software programs. Once Shane sends the kids off with various Vinea employees, I pull them aside. “Hey,” I say and they smile.
“Mr. Trachtenberg,” they say, extending a hand for a shake. “I remember you from our nonprofit summit. I’m delighted to build this partnership with our public schools!”
“Oh.” I never know how to respond to enthusiastic people. Even before Lara ripped my emotional guts out I was more of a silent observer than a gesturing shouter. “Well, this is indeed terrific for the students. But I was wondering…” I can’t believe I’m both asking about the whereabouts of the CEO and nervous about doing so, but here I am. “Are we going to be seeing Ms. Vine today? To thank her, you know, for the hospitality.”
Shane smiles wider. “She’s meant to drop in on one of the sessions later, yes.” They lean in conspiratorially and whisper. “She’s having a very, very dramatic week, though, so I didn’t want to preview that for the students in case it doesn’t work out.”
“Oh, of course,” I say, nodding. I remember how I told Margot the company was on the brink of going public. And I remember how the Vinea CFO explained that process for the middle schoolers while also highlighting the ways finance and math can fit into careers in STEM fields.
This entire fucking day is basically our principal’s fantasy. Samantha Vine is showing these kids a future they could grasp and giving them contact information for mentors who want to help them get there. And why shouldn’t she. Isn’t this why I teach? To offer opportunities and epiphanies to young minds?
I wander out the door into the hall, intending to check in on one of the student groups, but I catch sight of Samantha through the windows of a conference room. She’s pacing and clenching and releasing her fist, passing the phone to her other hand and repeating the motions. She looks more like she did the day I met her, like she’s on the brink of exploding. I think of how casually she leaned on the door in my classroom and dropped dissection jokes, how she tossed banter at me at the bar like it was nothing.
I wonder which is the real Samantha. I can just make out her words as she paces by me and I hide my face behind a pamphlet. “Sara, do you think it’s fair of you to say that to me? It’s reasonable for an adult to chip in for a parent’s birthday gift…I’m not asking you to pay for the meal…Of course I didn’t ask if you were available tonight. Today is his birthday. I also am not available tonight, but I’m making it work…I’m not rubbing anything in your face. I have to get back to work.”
I watch as she slaps her phone on the table and takes deep, heaving breaths. I watch as she smooths out her skirt, like she’s preparing for battle rather than leaving the battle. She opens the door, and I expect her to approach me or Leo or the students, but she breezes right past us down the hall.
Two men in designer suits stand holding folders, eyebrows raised, expecting something. “Gentlemen!” She beams at them. “So sorry to keep you waiting. Please make yourselves comfortable and we can go over the paperwork together.”
I don’t like the disappointment that rolls through me as I realize I’m not going to get to talk to her. Not for a while at least. And then I force myself to stop thinking about it. I walk back into the room where my students are navigating an online program used by the world’s most prestigious scientists and research institutions. And I feel proud seeing how well they understand the concepts and the scientific terminology.
By the end of the day, Dante and Margot have both proclaimed they will be applying for summer coding camp scholarships and the rest of my students have already figured out how to link their new tablet devices together to join worlds for a massive Minecraft game. Shane informs the students there is wifi on the bus, and I’ve never seen middle schoolers file back into a coach so quickly in all my years as an educator.
We’re about to close the doors and shove off when a blonde blur comes rushing out the sliding glass doors of the Vinea headquarters. “Wait!” Samantha swings her way into the bus and leaps up the staircase. She stretches up toward the top level and then squats down to wave at the ground level. “I hope you all had a terrific day,” she says and smiles as the students all cheer. Beside me, Leo also cheers. I glower at him, inexplicably, and he shrugs. “I so wish I could have spent more time with you but I know we’ll meet again when you all apply for summer internships with Vinea, right?”
When she winks, I think every human on this bus falls in love with her. I worry about the reaction I’m having in my pants as she tells the students how to access her contact information in the tablets they all received, and encourages them to “at” her on social media. With a final wave, Samantha pivots off the bus and rushes back inside the building. As the bus pulls away, I watch her staff descend upon her, each person waving papers and vying for her attention.
“You’ve got it bad, amici.” I realize I’m leaning across Leo to stare out the window, and I feel myself blush as I sit back in my own seat. “You should ask her out. I’m telling you.”
“Does she look like someone who has time to go on a date with a middle school teacher in a sweater vest?”
Leo punches me in the arm. “She’ll make time when you ask her.”
I spend the rest of the ride back silently stewing, angry with my friend for leading me down a line of thinking I’ve tried to suppress. No more fancy women who want fancy things. I’ve done that already and I’ve got the emotional scars to prove it. Samantha Vine can have her swanky company with excess riches and amazing coffee.
I’m fine over here with my family, my work, and my students. “Shit,” I murmur as the bus pulls up outside of the school. “I forgot to ask where they get their coffee.”