Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Callie
Monday morning staff meetings don’t usually feel this tedious, but today, with Royal standing across from me, grinning like an idiot, I can’t wait to escape to my classroom. After our email exchange on Saturday and his inference that I don’t know how to have fun, I composed about seven different responses before deleting them all and deciding to ignore his jabs.
I simply wrote back, “Make the changes, Royal.”
He did so without further comment, only sending me the updated files, which, I have to admit, look really good. I have to admit it to myself, that is. I’d never admit it to him .
“And where are we with the fourth grade field trip?” our principal, Naomi, asks, snapping me back to the present.
I open my mouth to respond, but Royal jumps in before I can utter a syllable, saying, “I made some forms this weekend.”
He steps up to her then, handing her printouts of the forms before stepping back into his place in the loose circle of teachers. My eyes narrow as I stare at him, and he smiles before shooting me a thumbs-up sign.
“These look great,” Naomi says. “Good job, Royal.”
I have the sudden, juvenile urge to shout that I’d helped, too, but I manage to restrain myself. Naomi makes a couple of announcements I don’t hear, then dismisses us. I turn and stride from the conference room, fighting to control the seething anger threatening to overtake me.
I know it’s stupid. I know Royal only does these things to get under my skin because he thinks it’s funny. But even knowing that, I still can’t seem to control my reactions. Normally, I’m a very cool, calm, and collected person, but for some reason, when it comes to him, I seem to lose all of that and fly off the handle at the tiniest of inconveniences.
Raven says it’s sexual tension.
I think she’s lost her mind.
No, I know she’s lost her mind. The tension between Royal and me has nothing to do with sex. The mere idea is ludicrous. Absolutely insane.
Royal Manning is nothing but a pain in my ass. A big kid who never grew up.
I flip on the lights as I walk into my classroom, then I stomp over to my desk. Slumping into my chair, I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths to calm myself. Opening my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh.
I know I overreacted to Royal’s antics this morning. He did ninety-eight percent of the work on those forms, and he deserved all the credit Naomi gave him. Rationally, I know that.
Overreacting just seems to be my go-to whenever I deal with him. It is what it is.
My phone chimes, distracting me from thoughts of Royal, and I welcome the diversion. Pulling the device out of my bag, my mood brightens when I see a text from Emmett. Swiping my finger against the screen to open the text thread, I can’t stop the smile that tugs at my lips.
Emmett: Have you ever wondered why we practiced “Stop, Drop, and Roll” so much in grade school? My teachers had me convinced I’d catch on fire at least once in my life, so I mastered the skill. It’s been pretty useless so far.
A quiet laugh rumbles in my chest as I tap out a response.
Me: Same. Also, I’ve never even seen a pit of quicksand. At this point, I’m not even sure it’s a real thing. But when I was a kid, I was sure that was how I was going to die.
Emmett: Oh, my God. I thought the same thing! But I’ve done extensive research, and you don’t actually get sucked down like the movies depict. You just have to relax, lay back, and float, since it’s more like water than sand.
Me: Seriously?
Emmett: Seriously. Look it up.
Me: No. I meant seriously, you’ve researched quicksand?
Emmett: Yeah. I mean, I want to live.
Another laugh bursts through my lips as students start to file into my classroom. I quickly type out a message that I have to get to work before silencing my phone and shoving it into my desk drawer. I take just a moment to marvel over how Emmett pulled me out of my bad mood with a couple of silly text messages, then my mood plummets again as I hear a ruckus coming from next door.
Royal’s morning ritual of greeting each student with individual handshakes may seem cool to the kids, but it takes forever and interferes with my ability to get my own class to focus over the noise. Closing the door helps, so as soon as my last student slips in, I push it closed and lean back against it with a sigh.
I open my mouth to address the class, but the class next door bursts into laughter, cutting me off. Mr. Manning just cracked a hilarious joke, no doubt. I fill my lungs before blowing out slowly through my nose. The act reminds me of floating on my back in the pool when I was a kid, which reminds me of what Emmett said about quicksand. It’s more like water than sand, and if you just relax and lay back, you’ll float.
My irritation with Royal feels a bit like quicksand. The angrier I get, the easier I anger. I’ve been sucked so deeply into this vortex of irritation and resentment against Royal, everything he does and says sends me into a fresh spiral of rage.
Maybe I just need to let myself relax. Lay back. Float.
Straightening, I clear my throat and say, “Okay, class, you may talk quietly among yourselves until Mr. Manning’s class settles down.”
My students just stare at me with wide, confused eyes as I walk over to my desk and sit down. No one makes a peep, and when I look up at them, they’re still staring. Cocking my head, I twirl a hand in the air, motioning for them to get to it.
“I’m serious. Go ahead. Just don’t get too loud,” I say, nodding for emphasis.
A couple of brave souls turn toward each other and start whispering, and when I don’t react, the others slowly follow suit. I watch them for a minute, then pretend to read some papers on my desk so they can actually relax.
Jesus. Am I wound that tightly? Am I so austere they couldn’t even comprehend my giving them permission to be at ease and chat with their friends?
Royal’s last email about the field trip forms flashes through my mind, particularly the part where he inferred that I don’t know how to have fun. I definitely know how to have fun in my personal life, but here, at school?
Maybe I’ve let myself become a little too professional. I don’t want to be as loosey-goosey as Royal is with his class, but maybe I could stand to loosen the reins a bit with my students. And maybe I could try not to let Royal’s actions burrow under my skin so much.
I realize the noise next door has died down, and I start to settle my own class, then pause when I see how happy they all look. Socialization is an important part of education. I know this, but I think I just forgot for a while.
Relaxing back in my chair with a sigh, I watch them whisper, giggle, and smile. A few more minutes won’t hurt.
I’ll give them five more minutes, then we’ll get to work.