Wednesday morning usually meant a stupid hump day joke from a colleague and shifting point in my lessons where I would make changes to meet the students where they were at. Instead, I woke up an hour early to get ready for my SPIRIT day.
The email announcement last night had changed everything. I wanted to beat Christopher just to throw it in his face and watch him cry, but now, the winners from each grade level went to a showdown and got to pick the professional development training at the end of the month. This was huge. Bigger than huge.
Christopher couldn’t win because I refused to sit through a training on how to teach without a personality or why white walls are best for inspiration. No. I couldn’t.
That was why I was light-headed from blowing up fifty balloons and taping and tying them on to strings and yardsticks. Nothing was purchased, so I was still following all his dumb rules, and I knew I was going to kick his ass.
Christopher could waltz in here with his rigid lack of fun, but he didn’t know the staff like I did. He didn’t know that Miranda’s mom used to live with her until she relocated to Florida to live with her other daughter. He wouldn’t know that she had a walker with tennis balls at the end unless he was Snapchat friends with her—which I was—so that was how I scored a walker to complete my outfit from the movie Up, going as Mr. Fredricksen. She let me borrow it without even bribing her with chocolate.
My brain felt fuzzy as I blew in the last balloon as Larissa walked in and grinned so wide, I swore I saw every single individual tooth in her mouth. “Holy cow, Gilly.”
“Can you…help me get it ready?” I’d borrowed an old dollhouse from the preschool attached to our building and taped all the balloons so it looked like the house from Up. My classroom had tons of paint, and I used every color I had. “Think this is creative enough?”
“Um, yes. You went far out.” She clapped, looking adorable in her Mrs. Incredible outfit, which would’ve cost forty dollars at the party store. “I’m impressed. For real. You’ll make the rest of us look bad, but it’s worth it. You see APD’s email about the training?”
I nodded too hard and winced. “I’m not letting him”—I jutted my thumb over my shoulder to point at Christopher’s wall—“win. I’d rather eat a tube of glitter glue.”
“I don’t know…the kids love him.”
“Don’t remind me.” I huffed and adjusted the big clunky belt to make my too-large corduroy pants—curtesy of Larissa’s brother—stay up. “Okay, fake glasses. You brought them with you?”
“Sure did.” She handed them over and snapped a photo. “Amazing.”
“Keep the compliments coming. I need the confidence.” I sighed as she frowned at her phone. “What is it?”
“Helen wants to meet to work on our lessons for the week. This observation thing the first full week back is killing me. Are we all doing this crap? Why can’t they let us do this later?”
“It’s just for the new teachers to the school and second-year teachers.” I agreed that the timing wasn’t ideal, but I understood the need to help model how to do anchor charts for classroom rules and policies. “Not all of them know how to adjust lessons into anchors.”
“Fine. You’re right.” She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Can’t wait to hear the gossip about your outfit today. You’ll be the talk of the staff, for sure.”
I winked as she left and lost myself in the lesson that Christopher was going to observe. It was only for thirty minutes since APD would cover his class so he could sit in mine, but it felt bigger than just a lesson. Like my student teaching experience but amplified. Which annoyed me.
I didn’t care what he thought.
Okay, sure.
I had an hour to prepare and check my emails, so there wasn’t time to worry or overthink about the fact he would be in my room, watching me, with my students. I wasn’t going to waste it worrying about some guy.
Christopher was still not in my room as I stood outside my door and greeted all the students. His door was open, but Dave was in there, like it was planned, and my stomach tightened with nerves. Would he show up late to try to fluster me? Was this a trick to mess with my mind?
Either way, it was working. My poor nail was barely there from my constant nibbling, and just as I accepted he would ruin whatever I would do, his tall frame appeared at the end of the hall. He wore a dark jacket with a striped scarf and—oh my gosh, is that a bald head piece?
Were those…pillows in his jacket to make him look exactly like Gru from Despicable Me?
Oh, hell no.
He was mid-laugh with another male teacher when his gaze landed on me, and the appreciative glance he did up and down my body made my skin break out in goose bumps. What the? I was dressed like an old man. There was no way for him to look at me with interest in those eyes.
I cleared my throat at the lack of hatred coming from him and prepared for the worst when he approached my door. “Mr. Callahan, or should I say, Gru? Are you ready to join us for anchor charts?”
“Sure am, Mr. Fredricksen.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, and one side of his mouth lifted on one side. It wasn’t an entire smile, but it was at least a quarter of one, and there was no reason why I returned the same, almost visible smile back. It was because kids were around. That’s the only explanation.
He walked into the room, and in the worst accent I had ever heard, he mimicked the character. “Gooooood morning, my minions.”
“Mr. Callahan! Is that you? Where is your hair?”
“Your nose isn’t big.”
“You need eyebrows.”
“Are you hot? It’s August, and you have a scarf.”
Excited and loud voices greeted our temporary guest, and my eye twitched a little bit at the way they all smiled at him. These were our kiddos, sure, but they liked me for me…not the flashy toys. I was almost sure.
“Okay, my intelligent, kind humans. We are going to do an anchor chart for how-tos. Who can tell me what how to means?”
Danny raised his hand and took a large breath. “Instructions.”
“Yes, excellent.” I grabbed a dry erase marker and drew a cartoon of a young student sitting crisscross on the board with one hand raised and the other in his lap. I wrote WHAT LISTENERS DO at the top of the board. “Okay, can someone tell me what this student is doing?”
“Sitting!”
“Raising a hand!”
“Tooting!”
I fought the urge to laugh and caught Christopher’s eye for a split second. He, too, looked about ready to chuckle, and I forced myself to keep my face neutral. “Great observations!”
I wrote in big handwriting, Raises hand to answer. “Raises hand to answer. Can we all raise our hand and keep quiet, like good listeners?”
They all threw their hand up in the air.
“I want you all to talk for two seconds to the person next to you while I tell the class my favorite color, okay? Whoever can tell me what I say will get to take the lunch menu down to the office. How does that sound?”
They nodded, and I held up three fingers. “On the count of three. One…two…three.”
Conversation exploded in the room as I said in my normal street voice, “Blue.”
“Okay, be good listeners!” I raised my hand and closed my mouth, waiting a good ten seconds for them to settle down. “Who was a good listener? Raise your hand if you heard my color.”
Two students had their hand raised.
“Missy, what did I say?”
“Pink!”
“No,” I said kindly. “Hank?”
“Red.”
“No again.” I smiled and pointed at the drawing. “Can you see why we have to raise our hands when we want to share something? It helps make sure we all can hear each other, and that’s important.” I paused and did a quick sweep of the room. They were all tuned into me.
“My favorite color is blue.” I grinned, and a bunch of chatter started. “Ah, ah, good listeners, right? Now, what can you tell me about his face? Where are his eyes? Are they on his hands or staring forward, playing close attention to the speaker?”
We went through every part of the cartoon’s actions. His feet position, his mouth, what he was thinking about, and by the time we were done, we went through practice on how to be good listeners. The twenty-minute lesson ended, and we moved to language arts as Christopher got up and made his way toward the front of the room.
“Can we all wave good-bye to Mr. Callahan, or shall I say, Gru?”
Twenty-four students laughed and waved at him as he bowed and used the same awful accent to say gudbye. I didn’t have to fake a smile as I walked him to the door, the high of knowing the lesson went great despite the fact he was there, and I had a comment right on my tongue about how I didn’t use a single prop besides a marker when he nodded at me.
“That was good.”
“Wait, excuse me?” I said, blinking and making a real scene about clutching my chest and taking a few steps back. “What?”
He let out an annoyed breath but repeated it. “The lesson was good. Different from what I expected.”
“Did you think I’d fly in on my hoverboard and use holograms? I’m saving those for next week.”
Christopher barked out a laugh, giving me a real, genuine smile that made my toes curl into my old slippers. “Okay, Martha.”
He waved one last time to the class before leaving into the hallway, and my students had zero chill and distracted me before I had any time to analyze his comment. It was for the best because there was no way he would start being nice to me.
Nothing had changed.
The high from the morning only lasted until lunch, where it exploded like a firework when I was midbite into my macaroni bowl. Helen stood up from her lunch table and cleared her throat before smoothing down her blue dress. “Today is the last day, y’all. If you don’t have your money for the group brewery tour, I can’t sign us up as a group. I hate to be that person, but I sent an email about this last week.”
Last week, I had been trying not to have a panic attack that Samantha was here, and Helen emailed the whole staff too damn much, so I often skimmed. She called it a group bonding, and I forgot it was about the trip. Dang it. I never gave her money. My face burned so hot, I swore my skin was going to melt off. How could I forget to pay her, and now my money was tied up? Shit.
What was I going to do? I clenched my plastic fork tighter and tried to rationalize how I could get the money. It was fifty bucks, which wasn’t insane, but not something I just had lying around.
“Did I pay you? I can’t remember,” Peter Dee said, scratching his head and scrunching his eyebrows together. Conversation seemed to stop in the teacher lunchroom. “My mind is just a blur this week.”
Helen laughed. “I know, mine too. Let me check.” She pulled out her phone and clicked her tongue until she nodded. “Okay, for Hops and Hoops get-together, I need Larissa, Gilly, and Maggie. Everyone else is good to go.”
“Can we still sign up if we’re interested? This sounds like fun,” Christopher said, making my blood boil. The thought of him going to it with all the teachers who were my friends was my version of hell. This was supposed to be fun, and seeing him on a Saturday, with the staff that I loved working with, was the opposite.
Helen, the angel, smiled softly at him. “Sorry, Christopher, unless someone doesn’t give us their money, there isn’t a spot. I can let you know at the end of the day if I have an opening or not.”
He nodded, and his gaze flicked to me for one second. I looked at my plate and felt the sweat forming on my brow. Attending an outing at the brewery would be such a great way for all of us to relax and work out the back-to-school nerves, and knowing Christopher was ready to take my spot made it so much worse. He could turn everyone against me.
Fritz. I would call my brother, and he’d lend me the cash, especially if it was for school. I couldn’t feel too bad about asking when it was to further my professional relationships, right? That was work-related. It was important.
Larissa and Maggie excused themselves to go to their classroom to get their checks, and while conversation picked back up again, my heart beat pounded so loud I couldn’t make out the words. I couldn’t finish the salad, so I tossed it into the trash and went into the hallway. My fingers shook a little when I called my brother, hating that I forgot about this cost. This was my own damn fault, and this stupid one-month challenge was biting me in the ass.
“Hey, Gil, what’s going on?” he asked, his playful tone a good sign.
“I need to borrow fifty bucks.”
“Um, no.”
“Please, it’s for this school thing, and it’s due to today and I forgot about it when I did my budgeting. It’s important, Fritz,” I said, almost on the verge of begging.
“Gil, no. We agreed for one month. You need to figure this shit out on your own. If it’s not a life-or-death emergency, then you gotta figure it out. This is what you wanted, okay? I’m not trying to be a dick about it.”
His words were true, but it still upset me. “Fine, yeah, I’ll figure it out.”
“Don’t pout,” he said in a stronger voice. “You can do this, Gil.”
“Yeah, bye.” I hung up and knew my anger wasn’t really at Fritz, more at myself. How could I forget about the payment? I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to think of any way to get that by the end of the day. The only options I could think of were to pawn something or drop clothes off at a consignment shop or sell something online. It would only work if Helen accepted the payment later in the afternoon though. Swallowing down my pride, I tried to sneak into the workroom without making noise, and I approached Helen at the copy machine. “Can I send it to you later this afternoon?”
“The payment?”
“Yes,” I said, hating how I could feel him staring at me. It was like there was a specific jerk detector on my skin that prickled whenever he was around. “I forgot, honestly, and need to get the money. I will though.”
“Okay, Gilly.” She smiled. “If I don’t have it by five, it’ll to go Christopher though.”
“Right, fair. Totally understand,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’ll have it by then.”
“I hope so. We were looking forward to you joining us,” she said, her words soft and sincere. She didn’t speak loud by any means, but that didn’t stop Samantha from snorting at the table nearest the copier. Her little laugh sent ice into my veins, and before I did something stupid, I had to get out of there.
I forced a smile and went back to my classroom. Okay, what could I sell? What if it went to Christopher? God, that would eat me up. I had a dull headache and no answers, but it didn’t matter—there wasn’t time to think about a solution when lunch ended and twenty-four little pairs of feet bounced back into my room.
That was the one thing I could almost always count on. My students. They could distract me from whatever mess my life was in, and I was thankful.
The realization that I had a spending problem stung. Knowing the owners of Bonny’s Boutiques had its perks for many reasons. Getting notified when vintage purses and dresses arrived tended to make my day, but now, it was reversed. She told me if I ever wanted to sell part of my vinyl collection to them, she would happily take them. I rushed home to do just that. I got my Beatles albums that my dad gave me and carefully placed them in the back of my car. She squealed when I handed them to her. Before I could change my mind, I accepted the fifty dollars Bonny offered me and rushed out.
My lower back sweat more than I was comfortable with, but now I could hang with the other teachers for a few hours. I parked a little too fast, my tires over the painted lines, and hustled into the school. I didn’t have much time to drop it off before heading to the tutoring place, so I booked it toward Helen’s room. There were quite a few staff members there at the late hour, but it wasn’t uncommon during the first week or two back. I smiled at Maggie, who was on the phone, before I turned down the hall leading to the upper level classes.
I got three steps closer toward her door when Samantha appeared like a black cat, quiet and menacing. Not a good sign. Her eyes even seemed to glow when she looked me up and down. I sucked in a breath when she crossed her arms, arched a brow, and smiled like she knew all my secrets. “Excuse me, I need to drop this off and head out.”
“Oh, is this the money you said was tied up for a month? Interesting.” She stepped closer to me, keeping that creepy smile on her face, and eyed my hand. “I’m hungry and want the cash. So give it to me, or I’m calling Fritz. It’s your choice, really.”
“Samantha, this is for the Hops and Hoops trip. This is beyond you and me and my brother. Please.” Panic had my heart beating so fast it hurt, and my eyes stung a bit. It would be so unfair if my spot went to Christopher, who started this whole thing in the first place. Seeing him friend everyone would slowly kill me. It was the social event of the semester. Missing that would be awful. They’d bond and have inside jokes for the whole year. Last year, we went to an escape room, and we stilled talked about it. I gritted my teeth as I clenched the envelope tighter. Agreeing to this challenge was all Christopher’s fault. If he weren’t such an ass, I wouldn’t have accepted the not-a-dime crap.
No. It’s mine. I shouldn’t have paid her. I shook the thought out of my head when she ran her tongue over the side of her mouth and grinned.
“I don’t give a shit if it’s for neglected puppies. None of that matters. Give me the cash.” Her voice took on a dark tone, and my stomach dropped. She took her time getting her phone out of her pocket and sliding her fingers over the device. “Hey, Fritz, it’s Samantha. We have a lot to talk about. I left because your sister—”
“Fine, fine.” I shoved the money at her. “Take it. Don’t text my brother, please.”
She grinned like a Cheshire cat, winked, and patted my hand. “I always love when we get together, don’t you? It would’ve been so fun being your sister.” Then she walked off, swaying her hips.
My spot would go to Christopher, and everyone would wonder why I couldn’t pay—that sucked, but protecting Fritz was more important right now. It would always be the most important, and this was my penance for helping him. With a brief moment to feel bad for myself, I straightened and told Helen I was out.
Now, I had to hustle to get to tutoring on time and try not to cry.