The Dreams We Share (Love and Other Dreams #1)

Chapter 1

Maya

A heart-wrenching whimper reaches my ears. Though barely audible amid the lively sounds of the kindergarten group, I am immediately alarmed.

It's Frida.

I look up from the cardboard butterflies I'm cutting out for the summer festival, blowing a strand of my long black hair away from my face. The bright June sunlight streams through the windows, casting a colorful glow over the whimsically decorated room. The glass beads of the mobile above the entrance sparkle with a rainbow of colors, and the vibrant red of the play kitchen glows even more intensely.

My gaze continues to wander until I find the crying girl, who shows up at the kindergarten day after day, only wearing tights and a T-shirt. Over in the corner with the building blocks, she buries her head between her tightly drawn-up knees.

"There she goes again." My boss, Nadine, shakes her head with an exasperated snort and reaches for the hot glue gun. "Can't this child go a single day without creating drama?"

I look into her icy-blue eyes. "Why did you become a preschool teacher, anyway?"

Of course, she's the boss, and if I've learned one thing during my internship here, direct criticism is unwelcome. Nevertheless, I can't help but ask her the question.

"That's none of your business." Nadine shrugs indifferently and crumples the red tissue paper in her hand into something that was supposed to be a lovingly shaped flower for the wall decoration.

If it were just about me, I wouldn't say a word. But her cold demeanor is directed at the little innocent beings we have the privilege of caring for.

"Not mine, but it is the children's business." I reply so quietly that she probably can't hear it, pushing the tiny wooden chair behind me as I stand.

I walk past the dollhouse, the construction workshop, and the painting corner. I almost stumble over a miniature train that one of the wild rascals left in the middle of the room.

A few seconds later, I sink onto the soft carpeted floor of the building corner and pull three-year-old Frida into my arms. Her red curls reek of cold cigarette smoke.

"What happened?" I ask the little one, stroking her back reassuringly.

She doesn't answer. I only notice how she plays with my oversized earrings, sparkling in all colors. Frida sure loves that.

"Together, we can solve any problem, you know," I whisper while gently rocking her back and forth. "You remember, don't you? We're both..."

"Superheroes." Frida's voice is so faint that I can hardly hear it.

I smile. Because suddenly, I feel strong too. "Exactly. And what do superheroes do?"

She pushes herself away from me slightly and looks up at me with her green eyes. "They can do anything." A conspiratorial grin appears on her freckle-covered face.

"So if a superhero can handle anything, nothing can happen to them that they can't fix, right?" I lovingly wipe the tears from her cheeks. In the corner of my eye, I see Nadine throwing her arms up in the air. Due to her sour expression, she looks completely out of place in the group room, which appears so cheerful with its yellow curtains and children's drawings on the wall.

"Do I have to do everything alone?" She rants in a volume she knows I can hear. Then she turns with a grim expression to the rainbow-colored stack of construction paper sheets on the craft table.

"Nadine is mad at you." Frida wrinkles her button nose.

Though I flinch inwardly, I mimic the little one's grimace. "So what?" I whisper back. Then I turn my face away so Nadine can't see it and contort my features until the little one giggles.

Experiencing her laughter is worth any sacrifice. No matter how difficult it can be having Nadine as my boss, time with the children makes up for it. With them, I am in a different world. A place where there's no pressure. They don't pretend; they don't lie. And they see the world just the way I love it. Like through a magical kaleidoscope that casts a rainbow hue over everything.

I nod encouragingly to Frida. "Do you want to tell me now why you were crying?"

She lowers her eyelids in shame. I can barely understand what she murmurs, but as I also let my gaze fall, I don't need to understand anymore. She tries to hide the dark stain on her beige tights with her hands, but I can still see it clearly.

"Please, don't tell on me," she whispers with a voice choked with tears.

Instantly, I empathize with her. I feel her shame and guilt as if they were my own. Still, I smile at her reassuringly.

"You can rely on me. And you know what? Coincidentally, I brought a magic cloak with me today." I pretend to pull a cloth from my bright blue flowing skirt. "Anything this covers becomes invisible."

The girl's eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course. What do you think?" I hold the nonexistent piece of fabric in front of her face. "My goodness, Frida, where's your head?"

She leans to the side as if peering out from behind a curtain. "I'm here!"

"Thank goodness. I thought..." I pretend to be relieved, wiping away imaginary sweat from my forehead. The numerous plastic bangles around my wrist make a dull clacking sound while I wrap Frida in the imaginary cloak. One last time, I hug her tightly. "Now you can follow me unnoticed to the restroom. On the count of three, okay?"

"Okay," she whispers almost inaudibly. She nods against my shoulder.

Hand in hand, we make our way through the group room. Fortunately, none of the other children take notice. Melinda and her best friend David are drawing ships, and the preschoolers are having a tea party with the dolls.

Only Nadine notices that we're sneaking outside. She scrutinizes me, the color of her eyes resembling an iceberg. Without reacting to her, I turn toward the exit. Only Frida matters now.

After tending to the girl, I reluctantly take a seat next to Nadine at the craft table. I can feel her eyes on me as I reach for the scissors. Immediately, I'm filled with tension, which threatens to overwhelm me.

"Did she wet herself again?" Her thin eyebrows rise. The hot glue gun in her hand oozes, and the adhesive smell fills my nostrils.

I shouldn't lie to her; that has gone wrong several times already, leading to reprimands. "No, she just wanted to show me something," I say anyway. For Frida's sake. After all, I made her a promise. Hastily, I take the pine-green cardboard and place the leaf-shaped stencil on it. My brightly painted fingernails add a cheerful mood to the plain surface.

"Don't get too attached to the little ones, Maya. You supervise them, teach them something, and when they're old enough, you release them into their future lives." She lazily sticks a tissue paper flower onto the wire stem. "That's it. They're not your children."

Is it supposed to be that simple? Even though my intuition tells me otherwise? "I understand that, but..."

She raises her hand. "I don't want to hear it."

"Something may be wrong at Frida's home." I shouldn't speak that thought out loud, but I can't help it. "Her shoes are too small, and her clothes are frayed and rarely washed. Shouldn't we do something?"

Heat rises within me as I think about what could be happening in her life.

"Enough of that," Nadine warns me emphatically. "Maybe her parents don't have much money, but they're doing their best. And it's not uncommon for a three-year-old to forget to use the toilet while playing. I can recognize children with problems, and Frida isn't one of them."

Surprised, I let the paper and scissors drop. So she has been observing the little girl too. Has she been to her home or talked to her parents? Perhaps Frida's family isn't as bad as I imagined?

It's possible, yet I search Nadine's face for signs that she might be lying to me.

"You're just an intern." She suddenly sounds as if she pities me. She puts her hand on my forearm. "Why do you think that after a few weeks, you can assess a situation better than a seasoned educator?"

Ashamed, I lower my gaze. Because the facts can't be denied. She's the professional, and I'm the intern.

For now.

This internship is the foundation for my special education studies. Only if I accumulate the required practical hours, submit a written assignment, and pass the four partial exams for study eligibility will I be allowed to attend university. If I had completed school until graduation, it wouldn't be necessary. But that's just not how it turned out. At twenty-six years old, I haven't accomplished much in general.

That's about to change.

I want to help children with problems. Children like Frida. This dream has accompanied me my whole life, and a few months ago, I finally found the courage to pursue it.

I'd love to tell Nadine about it. But I don't dare. She wouldn't believe that I could follow through anyway.

Her strained cough doesn't bode well. "And one more thing: I would strongly advise you to dress like an adult. Just a tip." With a disdainful sniff, she scans my rainbow-colored T-shirt.

The children love my cheerful style. And so do I. "A little color brightens up anyone's life," I reply defiantly, but I can't even look her in the eye while saying it.

With a loud creak, Nadine pushes her chair back. "Did I ask you a question?"

No.

"Exactly." She stands up and tugs at her mouse-gray T-shirt as if trying to conceal her rounded hips beneath the fabric. Then she tilts her chin up and calls the children to the gymnasium at a deafening volume.

***

After all the children have been picked up in the late afternoon, I enter the group room. Completely alone, Nadine sits at the craft table, struggling to handle the decorations for the summer festival. She cuts the leaves so carelessly that I almost want to take the scissors out of her hand. I straighten my back and cross the room, which feels eerily quiet without the children.

"Where should I continue?" I ask as cheerfully as possible, taking a seat on one of the small wooden chairs next to my boss.

She doesn't respond.

Better to start working right away. But as I reach for the box with the pre-cut tissue paper flowers to assemble them on the wires, Nadine stops me.

"We need to talk," she says wearily.

I follow her into her office, which is more of a storage closet than an actual workspace. There, she gestures for me to sit on the chair in front of her desk, piled high with folders and books. I feel uneasy. She maneuvers past the table and rests her head on her hands.

Heaven, when she looks at me like that, I feel like I'm four years old again.

"Maya," she begins, letting out a heavy sigh. "This is an educational institution for children aged three to six."

Yes, I'm aware of that. I might be scrunching my face because I have no idea where she's going with this.

"For two months, you've been working here, and I've done my best to make this fact clear to you," she continues, leaning back in her chair. The squeaking of the backrest pains my ears. "I don't like to admit a mistake, but if you have made one, you have to own up to it."

What? Nadine wants to admit a mistake? Something stirs within me. A spark of hope that perhaps my future holds more for me than financial worries and temporary jobs that no one could endure for long.

Positive thoughts are the beginning of all good things , I hear my father's voice echoing within me. For years, I've carried his voice inside me, and whenever he whispers something in his warm bass, I feel a little stronger than before. Even today.

What if behind Nadine's rough exterior, there's a soft core? What if she's been testing me all this time? And what if I've passed the test?

With anticipation, I gaze at Nadine, barely able to contain myself and eager to finally hear what she has to say. She grabs a piece of paper on her desk with the blank side up.

This could be my evaluation .

My legs refuse to stay still any longer. With a fantastic internship certificate, the first step toward admission to university is taken. In just three days, I'll take the second step by completing the required biology exam. A warm tingling sensation runs through my arms, while my palms become damp and simultaneously colder.

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion. Nadine turns the paper over and places it directly in front of me. Curiously, I lean forward.

Termination.

Does it say termination?

No, that's impossible. I read the word again, but termination stubbornly refuses to turn into evaluation letter .

"Dammit, what's going on here?" Did I say that out loud?

"Your behavior has been unacceptable in this institution from the beginning. Today, you lied to me again. Frida did wet herself," Nadine says.

Dammit. How did she know...?

"The replacement tights had a different color." Nadine raises her eyebrows. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

Dammit. She must have noticed during the changing for the gym class. I shouldn't have lied to her. But abusing the trust of the little ones would have been just as wrong. "I wanted to—"

"Enough," she interrupts me. Suddenly, she looks exhausted. "I've never witnessed such unprofessional behavior. Denying it only makes it worse."

But that wasn't my intention. "Let me explain," I stammer .

Nadine shakes her head. "That's not all. You can't handle criticism and consistently execute my instructions incorrectly." She looks at me, full of disappointment. "You know we've discussed this before. You're not suited to be an educator. In fact, you should be thankful that I'm telling you this early."

"But..." Nadine's words circle in my head, but I can hardly comprehend them.

None of our little charges has ever complained. I'm there for them, so it can't be wrong. Or can it?

What if my dream is bigger than I am? What if I'm not meant to help children?

Disappointed in myself, I lower my gaze. "I—"

Once again, she doesn't let me finish. "My decision is final. Today was your last day of work."

What? I can't even stay until the end of the kindergarten year?

What will happen to the summer festival? I had planned game stations and rehearsed songs with the children. And what about Frida? Who will remind her she's a superhero when I'm no longer around?

"How can I make it right?" The pleading in my voice is unmistakable. I slide forward on the chair, almost landing on my knees. "Give me another chance."

Nadine's body tenses up. "You've had too many already."

"I've learned my lesson, honestly. This internship means everything to me. Don't take it away from me." I look at her desperately. She has to understand that my entire future is at stake.

Nadine bites her lip. "Don't make it harder on yourself. Just sign it." She nods toward the termination paper .

Defiantly, I cross my arms in front of my body. "And if I don't?"

"You see, that's part of the problem. You're behaving like a child. Grow up already."

Grow up? Why should I? So that I can become as cold-hearted as she is? I shrink on the chair, feeling hardly taller than a Lego figure.

She stands in front of me and thrusts the pen into my hand. "Just sign it." Her index finger impatiently taps on the paper. "Working with children is not for you. You need a job that suits you."

I swallow hard. Even if my heart refuses to understand, at least my head has to. My goal is unattainable. It always has been; I was just foolish enough to hope it would be different.

"Go ahead." Nadine's tone leaves no room for argument. So I do it. Resignedly, I let the pen glide across the paper. My jagged signature seals in blue on white the end of my dreams.

It's over. I have failed. Once again.