My anger hadn’t dissipated at all in the four days since our showdown. It was Sunday afternoon, and my best friend, Grace, and my brother sat in my living room, laughing their asses off after I told them all about Christopher.
“What is so damn funny about this?” I spat out, pushing off the couch and placing my hands on my hips. “I can beat him at this stupid not-a-dime competition. I will.”
“Uh, okay, sis,” Fritz said, hitting his knees as his shoulders shook with laughter. He shared a look with Grace and rolled his eyes. “You spend thousands of dollars on your classroom and nails and hair. There’s no way you won’t cheat.”
My face heated, and I pointed my finger at his chest, showing my teeth as I tried to come up with something to prove him wrong. “I can do it. I’m not that entitled.”
“I dunno, Gil.” Grace winced and wiped the smile off her face when I glared at her. “You need something, you buy it online in an instant. Should we check your Amazon account? I saw four packages on the counter when I walked in.”
“Or her subscription addiction? Did you know she gets perfume, clothes, and shoes delivered to her every month?”
“I like those things! Sue me!” I yelled, super annoyed by the truth to their words. “Fine, I spend money a lot. I like it. It doesn’t mean I can’t work hard though.”
“We’re not saying that at all, Gilbert,” Fritz said, using my childhood nickname and softening his tone. “You’ve always worked hard, but—now don’t kill me—he has a point.”
My left eye twitched. I sighed and ran a hand over my face. “So what the hell do I do?”
“You don’t spend money on this competition. Prove him wrong, duh.” Grace wiggled her eyebrows and picked up the pad of paper where I’d scribbled ideas down. “Dang, Fritz, wanna take a bet on if she can do it or not?”
“Oof, no, because I know she can’t.”
“I can do a damn week on a budget. I’m not that bad.” A dull ache started behind my left eye, and I wanted to slam a pillow into my best friend’s face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I love you, Gil, but you can’t do it.”
“Yes, I can. I can even do it longer than a week. Two.” I puffed out my chest as my pulse raced. My nerves danced at the doubt in their eye. “Swear.”
“Make it a month,” Fritz said, his voice getting serious. “One month, just your teacher paycheck.”
“What do I get if I do this?”
“Bragging rights, respect, knowing we were wrong about you,” he fired back, raising his brows. We weren’t athletic like Grace or her husband, but competitiveness lived in our blood. We thrived on being the best.
“Fine.” I swallowed. “I’ll do it.”
Fritz grinned and relaxed into his seat as Grace cleared her throat and scanned the pad of paper.
“Okay, let’s brainstorm then,” Grace said in her teacher voice. “Day one is opposite day. What does that even mean? Opposite?” She shared a smile with my brother. They doubted me, that was obvious. While I liked excess things, I still had my pride, and I would prove to them I could do it.
Tight budget for one month. No funsies or extras or pedicures.
I gritted my teeth and plopped down on the couch, determined to win against Christopher, but also to prove to myself my money didn’t define me. “I found the coolest ideas online, but they all cost money. I’ve never needed to win something more than I do this SPIRIT week. If he wins, I might have to quit my job. Working with him all cocky and gloating…” I trailed off, and my entire body shook with dread. “Yeah, it can’t happen.”
Fritz laughed and picked up his phone. “Let’s go through ideas?”
“Please.”
Grace offered different ways to style my hair or wear two different shoes, which was a great start, but not enough. Christopher didn’t have to know I spent money if I made things look like they were older. My stomach soured at the thought of essentially cheating, and I got my laptop from the counter. It hadn’t even been five minutes since I made the bet with Fritz, and I was thinking about sneaking around.
I knew what I had to do.
“Looking up ideas?” Fritz asked, writing down something ineligible on the idea pad of paper. “I think if you wore different shoes, wore half your hair one way, and the other half different, that’s a good start.”
“I’m emailing Fred.” Fred had been Fritz’s and my fiduciary since our inheritance was released from the trust. Every transaction involving my money went through him.
“Um, thought we agreed for you to not spend money.” Fritz frowned at me and tilted his head to the side. “Gil, come on. You just agreed, and you’re flaking out?”
“No, I’m emailing him to make sure I don’t have access to any money for the month, except for my paycheck. I’m updating my spreadsheet of exactly how much I need for food, gas, utilities for the next four weeks, and that I cannot touch anything else. Not a dime. Then, I’m giving you my credit cards.”
“Whoa,” Grace said, her eyes going wide, and her tone impressed. “You’re taking this seriously.”
“While you two were brainstorming, I was daydreaming about sneaking off to the store and not telling you.” I looked at my best friend and brother and refused to feel guilty that maybe I was a bit high maintenance with money. “I want to get rid of any temptation so this guy can’t say a single thing and”—I paused to swallow my pride—“I need to prove it to myself that I’m more than money.”
“Well done, Gil,” Fritz said, grinning at me as he clicked his tongue. “Once you get that figured out, let’s come up with your outfits all week.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Dang, I wish I could spend money. Knowing I couldn’t intensified the urge. I could always call my advisor to have him unlock my account, but that defeated the whole purpose. My normal confidence shattered into pieces when I got to school and saw teachers decked out in all sorts of opposite gear.
One third-grade teacher had an outfit that had one side white, the other side black. It was incredible. I nodded at them as I walked into the building with my teacher bag and hot tea, but it faded when my gaze landed on Christopher—who was walking backward as he talked to Kennedy.
“Oh, you’re so clever!” she said, putting a hand on his arm, and he grinned down at her with amusement in his eyes. “I love it.”
“Thank you,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his. “I might look like a doofus, but it’s fun. Your idea is great too. Big fan of the crazy hair.”
I wanted to vomit. He was flirting with her even though her opposite day outfit was lackluster. His, though…
I gritted my teeth as my anger flared. He’d dressed like a student all the way from the light-up shoes, the blue shorts, a school T-shirt, the backpack, the name tag, and what the heck?
Jonathan Simpson, one of the students both Christopher and I had, walked out of his Christopher’s classroom wearing a blue sweater with elbow pads, gray pants, and a name tag that said Mr. Callahan.
Damnit! His idea was awesome. My inside-out clothes and opposite shoes seemed silly in comparison to his student-teacher opposite idea, but I stood taller as I approached our classroom doors. He stopped walking and grinned at Kennedy before she kept heading down the hallway to the fifth-grade wing.
“Well, best of luck, Ken. I’ll see you at lunch.” He held out a fist to Jonathon. “See you in twenty minutes, yeah?”
The kid nodded, but my brain was stuck on how everyone seemed to like Christopher besides me. He’d called her Ken. He had a nickname for another teacher after just one week, and he looked at me like he wanted me to burn alive? Yeah, this was so not fair. My plan was to speak in opposites all day and do a handstand for my class as often as I could. Now those ideas seemed to evaporate when his icy-blue gaze landed on me.
He pressed his lips into a flat line as he scanned me up and down, his nostrils flaring. “Not a dime, huh? I doubt that.”
“I didn’t spend anything,” I seethed, my face burning hot. “I already owned every item of clothing I have on. Trust me.”
He made a face that said he did not believe me, but he arched one eyebrow and smirked like he knew he’d won the competition. He stepped closer to me, and his subtle cologne tickled my nose. “Wearing your clothes inside out is a little too cliché, don’t you think?”
“It’s fun and clever and cheap.”
“It’s interesting,” he said, dragging out each syllable as his tone dropped. “You’re just proving my point over and over.”
“What point?”
“You think you’re so creative and fun,” he said, his gaze dropping to my mouth for one split second. “But you’re not. The first time you’re challenged to not steal or bribe or buy your way into first place, you’re average.” He barked out a humorless laugh and straightened his posture as he gloated. “Man, it feels so good knowing I’m right.”
He spun around and moved to his classroom before I had a chance to react. My eyes stung, and my stomach hollowed out at the underlying doubt I carried around. I did think I was creative, and my students loved all the fun stuff in my room. They fought to take turns with whatever new gadgets I had, but now…I hated that they made me feel gross.
Like I did buy my way into being their favorite teacher.
I grabbed a tissue to make sure my momentary tears didn’t ruin my mascara, and my hands shook a little as his words played over and over in my mind. The seed of doubt was growing into an entire tree in my soul.
I didn’t have to wait long. The familiar sounds of the rumbles and engines of the buses carried through the windows and excited little voices echoed in the hall. Students were here.
They’d attended school for half days the Thursday and Friday before. Today was the first full day of class, and my belly danced with butterflies. My crazy pink-and-purple dress was worn inside out, my shoes were different, each knee-high sock was a plethora of colors, and I used body glitter to cover my arms and face. I positioned myself outside my classroom door and didn’t have to pretend to smile as the first group of kiddos came walking my way.
“Good night! Good night!” I said to all of them as they either smiled or looked at the ground nervously. “Didn’t you hear? It’s opposite day!”
One young girl beamed up at me. “I hope you have a bad day!”
“That’s the spirit!” I said back, my blood buzzing with the high of knowing this was what I was supposed to do. Teaching was my passion, my call to the world, and it didn’t matter that someone thought I bought my way into their hearts and minds. I loved what I did.
“You have the funnest class,” a young boy said, stopping just outside my door. I made sure to shake all their hands before they entered, and I nodded.
“We have lots of fun while we learn.”
He went inside with the rest, where I had large nameplates cut out from my Cricut letting them know where their cubbies were and their desks. I might’ve gone a bit overboard by giving them each a packet of stickers and supplies, but seeing them use the cool pencil and show it off to their friends brought me joy.
“Yeah, we’ll see whose class they enjoy more,” a low voice said, making me whip my head to my left. Christopher leaned toward me, a smile still on his face as his students walked into his class.
“Is this another challenge, Mr. Callahan?” I asked between clenched teeth. I didn’t want to scare my students on the first day with a scowl, so I kept my smile wide. “My former students have siblings, and they know how my class is.”
“Yeah, I know how it will be too. All flash and flair from materialistic items you got from grants.”
He bent down to help a student tie their shoe, and my heart lodged in my throat at how gentle and patient he was. This was the glimpse of the man I connected with all those months ago, not the jerk who almost made me cry, twice. My muscles tightened with how unfair it was that I didn’t get to see this nice side anymore.
Before I could say anything else, a new bus arrived and another wave of students flooded the hall with little voices. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and Maggie caught my eye across the hall and waved.
Ready or not, the school year had started.
Hours later, my throat was drier than a desert, and my feet ached. I moved around constantly when I taught, and after three months of being lazy, I lost all my stamina. I heated up another cup of tea in the teacher’s lounge, and while I waited for it to warm, I plopped in a chair and rubbed the bottom of my foot. If I had access to money, I’d splurge on a pedicure, but between Christopher’s words and the fact my best friend and brother laughed at me, it sobered me up.
I didn’t need a pedicure. I could put my feet up when I got home and take a bath. That would work and wouldn’t cost a dime.
That damn phrase. It was starting to rule my life.
After putting my shoes back on, I got my cup of tea and made my way back to the room to pick up for the night. My class was messy, and I always felt guilty leaving crap all over the floor for someone else to sweep up, so I spent ten minutes doing it before I left. I was halfway done when a high-pitched laugh made me stand up straighter.
There was no way that laugh belonged to her. Plenty of people laughed with a high tone and were a bit nasally.
I blew out a breath and focused on the last half of the room, ignoring the way my blood pressure spiked and blood rushed to my ears. All thoughts of her were shoved into a box in the back of my mind that I never allowed myself to think about or open. She was out of our lives, and that was it.
But that laugh…I chewed on my lip for a second and set my broom down. I just had to make sure I was imaging it. I took a few steps outside my door, and voices carried over from Christopher’s classroom. Walking in there would be too weird, too sketchy. I needed a reason to go in there.
Buddy teacher. That’s right. I could ask him about today, how attendance went, that sort of thing. The laughter rang out again, and with a fake smile that stretched across my face, I walked into his room like I belonged and stopped dead at the woman sitting on the edge of his desk.
My blood turned to ice, and my vision blurred.
It was her.
The woman I paid ten thousand dollars to leave my brother.