Chapter 3 #2
Even though I don’t want kids of my own, I genuinely enjoy being around them.
They’re so open and honest and fun. The four year olds in my class are the best and I’m not biased at all.
The kids have a good day and the weather cools down enough for them to play outside.
Twelve preschoolers can only be corralled in a room for so long before we’re all climbing the walls.
I didn’t sleep well last night, and by dismissal time, I’m tired and more than ready to go home.
Our daycare doesn’t provide transportation, and parents filter in to collect their kids. All except one of my students—Freddie. “Mama’s late,” he says, looking up from the picture he was coloring.
“I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” I tell him as I continue putting away toys and straightening up the room. There have been issues in the past with other parents not picking up on time but his mother, Colleen, is never late. She probably got held up at work or had some car trouble or something.
Another thirty minutes passes and the rest of the staff have left except for Mrs. Thomas, the manager. She pokes her head through the door and frowns. “Has his mother called?”
“No, I’ll give her a few more minutes then try her cell.”
Freddie is a nervous kid and the disapproval written on her face is enough to make him start fidgeting. “She didn’t forget me.”
“Of course she didn’t,” I reassure him. “Why don’t you get a juice and a snack from the cabinet while we wait?” There’s nothing like an extra snack to make a kid’s day. He scrambles from his seat.
Mrs. Thomas glances at the clock. “I have a hair appointment.”
“Go ahead. We’ll be fine.”
After a moment of consideration, she purses her lips and nods. “If she hasn’t showed up in another half hour, call me. We’ll need to take steps.”
Absolutely not. She can step her ass on out the door as far as I’m concerned. She’s far too happy to call authorities when they aren’t needed. “Will do.”
Once she leaves, I let a couple more minutes pass before calling Colleen’s number.
It rings a few times then goes to voicemail.
After leaving her a quick message, I return to sit at the little table with Freddie.
Colleen is a single mother and doesn’t have anyone listed as a backup. Hopefully she’ll call soon.
“Do you know where your mom works?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
Freddie nods without looking up from his juice box. “Uh-huh. At the weed store.”
“The weed store?”
“Uh-huh.”
It’s hard to decipher what goes on in a four year old’s head. Marijuana isn’t legal in Kentucky so he can’t mean a dispensary. Unless she works over the state line which I suppose is possible. “Do you mean the flower shop? Or a nursery where they sell plants?”
“Nope. Weed store. Is she going to come soon? I’m getting hungry.”
A few snack crackers are no match for a boy’s appetite. Before I can answer him, my phone rings and shows Colleen’s name. Thank goodness.
“Lila, I’m so sorry,” she babbles, her voice high pitched and frantic. “Kiera broke her arm at school and we’re at the hospital. I’m trying to get one of my neighbors to come get Freddie but no one is answering the phone.”
“It’s okay. How is she doing?”
“They’re taking her back for surgery. I don’t want to leave her, but—”
“No, don’t leave her.” What a terrible predicament to be in without anyone to help. “I can bring Freddie to you.”
“Oh, you’re a lifesaver. Thank you so much. We’re at Community Hospital. Third floor.”
“We’ll be there in a few.”
Before the new management took over, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for one of the staff to end up taking a child home in rare instances, which is why there’s still a booster seat in one of the storage closets. I’m glad we hung onto it even though it’s now against our policy.
“Okay, buddy. Kiera had a little accident at school and has to see the doctor so I’m going to take you to your mom. Go grab your backpack.”
Relief fills his little face. “Okay.”
Once I have him strapped in the backseat, he asks, “Does the doctor have chicken nuggets? I really need some chicken nuggets.”
I’m sure Colleen won’t be able to get him any dinner that doesn’t come out of a vending machine. “Chicken nuggets sound like a great idea. How about some french fries too?”
“I always want french fries.”
We stop at a fast food drive thru. “What does your mom like to eat from here?”
“She always gets a chicken sandwich and awful fries.”
“Waffle fries?”
“Yeah, those.” He points at the waffle fries on the menu.
It doesn’t take long for us to get our food. We’re only a few blocks from the hospital when Freddie speaks up again. “There’s where my mom works.” A glance back shows he’s pointing at the liquor store.
“Oh, that’s not a weed store, buddy.”
“Yes, it is. See the sign? I can read it. I sounded it out.” A large sign hangs from the front of the building bearing bright red capital letters. WE ID. Under it is a smaller banner that warns you must be twenty-one or over to enter.
I’m just going to let his mom explain that one.
Freddie perks up once we get to the hospital. He’s excited about riding the elevator, and begs to ride it again until I point out his mom waiting at the end of the hall. His desire to push the button again dissolves, and he rushes toward her.
“Hi Mama! Ms. Lila got me chicken nuggets and you some awful fries!” He holds up the bag like a trophy.
Colleen gives him a tired smile. “That’s great. I hope you said thank you.”
“I did. Where can I eat? I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving,” she teases, opening a nearby door to a tiny waiting room. “Sit at the table in here and don’t make a mess. I’ll be right in.”
She stays out in the hall with me. “Thank you so much for bringing him and getting his dinner. I don’t have cash on me but—”
“Please don’t worry about paying me back. How is Kiera?”
“They just came out to tell me everything went fine. It was a bad break with a bone protruding which is why they needed to operate so quickly. Her dad is on his way from Ohio and will be here in a few hours.”
“I’m so glad to hear it. Do you know how she broke it?”
“She was trying to do a flip off the jungle gym and landed badly. They say it’s boys that get hurt the most, but she’s my daredevil.”
We chat for a few more minutes before I go. It isn’t until I get back in my car that I see a text from Mrs. Thomas.
Trunchbull
Has Freddie been picked up?
Me
He’s with his mom, and I set the building alarm when I left. All good.
Her response is a thumbs up. There, problem solved.