Untitled
Things were a little awkward when Royal and I were packing up to leave the convention yesterday, but not terrible. We were friendly enough, and I feel like we both somehow managed to put that weird scene in the elevator behind us. I was drunk and he was, at the very least, buzzed…I think.
No, he definitely was. Why else would he almost kiss me?
My main problem this morning is that I’m not sure how I should act when I see him at work in a few minutes. Are we friends now? Or will we go right back to being antagonistic rivals now that we’re back in the real world?
A sigh slips through my lips as I check my reflection in the mirror attached to my car’s sun visor. I look…normal, and I have the sudden urge to swipe on some lipstick or at least a tinted gloss. Frowning, I flip the sun visor back up and pop my car door open. I’m being ridiculous.
Grabbing my bag from the passenger seat, I climb from the car and close the door with a bump of my hip. Hitting the button on my key fob to lock the doors, I take a deep breath, lift my chin, and walk into school like I haven’t a care in the world.
And like I wasn’t just considering dolling myself up a bit for Royal freaking Manning.
After checking my mail slot in the main office, I steel my spine and head for the teacher’s lounge. I know it’s where I’ll find Royal, just like every other day. And I’m determined to act normal around him. Just like every other day.
I stop in the doorway to the lounge, and there he is, at the coffee maker… just like every other day. He turns and glances toward me like he somehow felt my presence, and his lips curve up into a smile.
Okay. That’s new.
Twisting his upper body, he grabs my coffee cup from the shelf above the coffee machine. Meeting my eyes again, his holds the mug up and jiggles it, a silent offer to pour me a cup.
That’s definitely new.
It’s okay. He’s just being friendly. No need to get all bent out of shape over it.
I somehow make my lips curve upward and nod, then force my feet to move toward him. I stop a foot away, my lungs working like I’ve just run a lap around the perimeter of the school grounds rather than having just walked across the small room. Casting my eyes downward, I take a second to calm my breaths while hoping Royal won’t notice.
When I look up, he’s holding my mug toward me as he takes a sip of his own. I thank him, the words sounding a bit more breathless than I’d hoped they would. There’s a strange sparkle in his eyes, and it sets off a tiny flutter in my chest. One I try desperately to ignore.
“How are you feeling? Better than yesterday morning, I hope?” he asks with a small smirk, keeping his voice low so none of the other staff members in the room will hear them.
I realize he’s teasing me.
Then, I realize I like it.
If we were having this conversation last week, I would’ve gotten angry and said something snarky in response. Royal would’ve laughed, and I would’ve stomped away, sneering and plotting his demise.
But now? After this weekend? I’m on the verge of tittering like a teenager whose biggest crush is flirting with her.
No. I’m not a kid, and I do not have a crush on Royal Manning.
“I’m good. Thanks again for the coffee,” I mumble, then nod a bit chaotically before spinning around and striding from the room.
Well, if this is some alternate universe, and Royal was actually flirting with me, that psychotic display I just gave him will ensure he doesn’t do it again. Jesus. When did I become such a spaz?
In my classroom, I drop my bag to the floor, set my still-full cup of coffee on the desk, and then slump into my chair. Leaning over, I drop my forehead to the smooth wood and bang it softly a couple of times.
How did a couple of days away from campus change me so drastically? Instead of being irritable and angry in Royal’s presence, I’m a blubbering, panting mess. Straightening, I lean back in my chair and pick up my coffee. Eyes unfocused, I take a sip and think about some of our past interactions.
I always thought Royal thrived on irritating me, and maybe he did, to a point, but what if he’s just been teasing me all along? Have I been the problem, overreacting simply because he has a vastly different teaching style than me?
I’m just so damn confused.
Footsteps squeak and shuffle in the hallway, and I take another sip of my coffee before setting it aside and rising to greet my students. Pushing all thoughts of Royal to the back of my mind, I force a smile as they start to file in. It’s time to mold young minds. I can put my personal bullshit aside––at least, until lunch––and do my job.
Once everyone is settled in their seats and reading from their books, it dawns on me that there is no noise coming from the room next door. My brow furrows as I stare at the wall like I might somehow suddenly gain x-ray vision and be able to see through it. Monday mornings are always chaotic. It usually sounds like Royal’s hosting a rave in his room, I march over and make demands that he calm them down, and he defends himself, saying they have to be rambunctious to get the weekend wiggles out before they can learn.
Every. Single. Week.
And as annoyed as I am––every single week––I don’t feel relieved. I feel curious. Maybe even a bit worried. What’s going on over there?
“Class, I have to step out for a moment. Please continue reading,” I say before I can stop myself.
I open my classroom door and step out before gently closing it behind me. I’m not usually one to look a gift horse in the mouth like this, but I need to know what Royal’s class is doing and why they’re so quiet. I start in that direction then stop and turn back. Stopping again, I heave a sigh and turn back to Royal’s room, walking on silent feet until I stop just beside his door. I bend at the waist, leaning over to peek through the small window.
Royal has a finger to his lips at the front of the class. The kids are giggling into their hands as he pantomimes what I can only assume is some sort of dinosaur even though he really looks like a drunk chicken walking back and forth. Hands go up all over the room, and he stops his little strut. He points to a student, and the boy hops up and runs to the far wall where large prints of various dinosaurs are pinned on a cork bulletin board. He points to a picture of a Gallimimus, and Royal offers him a silent golf clap. The rest of the class copies his quiet clap, and the boy grins as he rushes back to his seat.
I straighten and step back before Royal or one of his students sees me peeping through his window. I don’t even try to fight my grin as I shake my head and walk back to my own classroom. I’m not one-hundred percent sure Royal’s choice of game this morning has anything to do with keeping me happy, but I have my suspicions.
Despite that awkward scene in the elevator Saturday night, things have changed. For the better. I don’t hate it.
Pulling open my classroom door, I slip back inside. Only a few students look up, most of them intent on their task. I walk over to my desk and sit in my chair to go over my lesson plan for today, but I can’t stop my eyes from scanning the class, taking in their somber expressions.
Sure, they’re learning. By the end of the school year, they’ll be ready to move on to fifth grade. I’ll have done my job in getting them there.
But what will they remember about our time together?
Royal’s giggling students flash through my mind, and my shoulders droop. His class will remember him , for sure. As teenagers and adults, they’ll recall fourth grade with happy memories and wide smiles. They’ll remember how Mr. Manning instilled a love of learning inside them, showing them math and science and all of the other subjects can be fun. Exciting.
I know I’m a good teacher, but I have to finally admit––to myself, at least––that Royal is, too.
And while I don’t want my class to be the chaotic environment his is, I could loosen the reins a bit. Make learning a bit more fun for my students. To be a little less rigid. There has to be some kind of middle ground between our two approaches to education, right?
I make the decision to put some real thought into it this week. I know if I put my mind to it, I can come up with ways to bring the fun to this space without disrupting the other classrooms in this wing.
And if worse comes to worst, I can just ask Royal for advice. The thought makes my stomach churn, knowing how smug he’d be if I resorted to that, but it would be worth it.
These kids are worth it.