3. Callie
Callie
THURSDAY, AUGUST 14TH
I ’d usually be in the teacher’s lounge for lunch, but I was with the Dirty Hookers at Mrs. Woodcock’s last night (that’s the local knitting club I joined a couple months ago), and so I’m inspired to make a little sweater for Fettuccini. I’ve created a knitting nook by the supply cabinet in my classroom with a chair and a small end table. It’s not out of sight from most angles, but it’s hard to spot when someone’s just walking by from the hallway, which makes for a nice, quiet place to think when I need it.
“How is this going to fix anything, Carissa?” a loud whisper comes from the front of the classroom. It definitely belongs to a female student, but certainly not one of mine.
“Just trust me, okay? No one is here, let’s just grab it and go.”
Grab it and go? What is she going to take, my construction paper?
She better not, actually, I paid for that out of pocket.
“But what if it bites me?”
Oh, hell no! Nobody messes with Herman! I stand up and storm out of my unintentional hiding spot to find two middle grade girls, one with a line of rhinestones by her eye that I would have complimented if it weren’t for her manhandling my hamster.
“He doesn’t really like to be held,” I say.
Despite the calm in my voice, both girls shriek and run out of the classroom. The one with the rhinestones drops Herman, who falls onto the table where his cage sits, and then promptly runs right off the edge.
“Herman!” I yell and leap for him. I imagine we look like we’re in some sort of warped, rodent Cirque de Soleil act; Herman’s body twisting and trying to right itself as he flies through the air, me making a full-on dive towards him with my outstretched hands.
But I don’t get to him fast enough and his little body hits the carpet with a tiny thunk. The air leaves my lungs. Is he dead? Don’t go into the light, Herman!
In my panic, I rush over to him, not thinking that a giant human closing in fast is probably not going to be what comforts him if he’s still alive.
Much to my relief, he scurries around the bookcase and into a corner of the knitting nook…behind a giant shelving unit, where not even Barbie’s hands would fit. My relief quickly turns to dread because I have approximately twelve minutes before chaotic six-year-olds fill this classroom, and I can’t have a runaway rodent on the loose.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I mumble. I approach the corner—with caution this time—crawling on all fours and turning my voice into sing-song mode. “Herrrrmannn. Come here, little dude! I’m so sorry you fell, buddy, that must have been scary. But it’s going to be so much scarier here in about…eleven minutes if you don’t come out so I can put you back in your cage.”
Herman stares at me, non-plussed.
“I’m not kidding, man, they are sweet and small but they are ruthless after lunchtime. Just pure screaming, that’s all you’re going to hear.”
He still isn’t buying it.
I’m reduced to begging. “Pleeeeease, Herman, pleeeeease come out! Just come out and I’ll be so gentle, I swear.” I change the pitch of my voice and say, “Take my strong hand,” just in case he likes classic cinema.
“ Scary Movie 2, ” a voice sounds from behind me.
“Son of a bitch!” I yell and clutch my chest, still crouched in a cat-cow position.
“I thought you were going to stop swearing,” Coach Finnegan smirks at me.
“I never said that,” I rasp. He scared the shit out of me. “I said I wouldn’t swear in front of the kids.”
He holds his hands up. “My mistake.”
Sweet cracker sandwich, he is so handsome. His oversized soccer shorts and sack-like hoodie hide what I’m sure are lots of muscles…but even if he’s covered in leeches under there, I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating potato chips, if you know what I mean.
Well…maybe if he had leeches all over him. A girl needs some standards.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to get my mind back on track. “Can I help you with anything?”
He looks almost embarrassed as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I, uh, heard some screaming from down the hall and thought I’d come see what was going on.” I can tell he’s making a concerted effort to stare at my face and nowhere else, which makes me realize something.
“Wow, you have a real knack for walking in on me when my ass is up in the air, don’t you?”
His cheeks go red.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize. “That was super unprofessional. Strike it from the record.” Now my cheeks are red, I can feel it.
“Stricken,” he kindly pardons.
“I’ve got a runaway hamster here, I can’t seem to get him to come out. He took a tumble, I think he’s scared and in shock.” I turn back to Herman, who’s still crammed between the wall and the bookcase, but his little nose is twitching, so I think he’ll be okay. “Herman, sweetie, please come out. We’re really running low on time here.”
Coach lets out a beleaguered sigh, like I forced him in here to come help me. “That’s not going to work, he’s not a dog.”
“Yes, thank you, I know he’s not a dog. Are you the hamster whisperer or something? Have I greatly offended you?”
“No, but you should probably be a little nicer to the guy who’s playing rodent rescuer.” He glances at the small table where I’d set my knitting supplies and my lunch.
“Well, maybe the rodent rescuer should work on being a little less condescending.”
“Well, maybe if?—”
“Oh my god please just help me.”
“Right. That your apple?”
I nod. “I know it’s cliche but—hey!”
Before I can finish my sentence, he’s marched over to the apple and taken a huge bite out of it.
“What the hell, man?” I demand.
He spits the bite he took back out into his hand and I wrinkle my nose.
“Ewww, what the hell, man? ” I ask again. The universe is just helping me by making him less sexy, I decide.
Coach breaks the bite of apple into smaller chunks. “Bribery,” he states simply, and places the pre-chewed fruit just outside of the bookcase gap where Herman is stuck. “Now we wait. Let’s move over there a little bit so he feels more confident coming out.”
Since I’m already on the ground, I crab walk a couple of feet to the right but stay seated to where I can see Herman if he decides to take the bait.
Rodent Rescuer opts to sit his giant frame on a tiny chair next to me. I’m about to laugh at him, but one look into his eyes and I’m at a loss for words.
I really need to find a friend with bennies in this town.
“When did you add Hamster Handler to your resume?” I ask.
“A few years ago, I thought it would be smart to get one for my daughter. But she was deathly afraid of it biting her, so she never took care of it. Little Petey Pablo and I had a bond.”
I laugh. “You named it Petey Pablo?”
“I won’t apologize for loving the entertainment of the early 2000s.”
That gets another laugh out of me. “You shouldn’t, it was amazing.”
He has a daughter. Dad and coworker equals twice the reason not to hook up with this guy. Lana seems to think he’s single. I don’t see a wedding ring, but he might just not wear one. Or maybe he’s not married but still with Lex’s mom. Why am I overthinking not sleeping with him? Why are we just staring at each other now? Is he thinking the same thing?
He clears his throat and changes the subject. “So, how did Herman end up making a prison break?”
“Ugh. Two girls came in here and tried to steal him,” I explain. “They didn’t know I was here, so when I came around the corner, they were mid-pilfer and dropped poor Herman before they bolted.”
He furrows his brows. “Why would they want to steal the hamster?”
I shrug. “No idea. They looked middle grade to me, so I’m guessing it’s just a typical tween prank gone wrong.”
At that, he seems more attentive. “You think they were middle schoolers?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “I taught at that level before I came here. They do stupid shit all the time. They’re just trying to assert their independence.”
“I teach middle and high school here, I might know who it was if you can describe them.”
I squint one eye and look towards the ceiling. “They beat feet pretty quick, so I didn’t get a good look at them. But the one who was actually holding Herman and dropped him had some rhinestones on her face by her eye.”
His jaw sets in recognition. “I think I know who that is. I’ll make sure she gets disciplined.”
“Nah,” I wave a hand. “They’re kids, this isn’t anything new. And luckily Herman’s okay. I’ll just beef up security on his little hideaway.”
I can tell he’s a little irritated with not bringing them to justice, but I know that those girls have enough on their plates. It’s an awkward enough time in life without having a rap sheet for hamster looting.
“I’m Callie, by the way,” I hold my hand out to him.
His hand engulfs mine in a firm grip. “Finn.”
“Oh, I know who you are,” I smile. “Your reputation precedes you.”
He hangs his head.
“Don’t be embarrassed, I think it’s amazing! And everyone I’ve talked to has had nothing but great things to say about you.”
“Oh, give it time. I’m sure the truth will come out eventually.”
We share a smile before a movement in my peripheral vision distracts me.
“Look!” I gasp. Herman has poked his little head out from behind the bookcase and is making his way over to the disgusting apple pieces.
“Approach with caution,” he warns. “He’s probably still nervous.”
I crawl slowly, knowing full well that my ass is yet again in the air, but not caring at this point. I have maybe three minutes before lunch is over. “Hey, sweet buddy,” I coo. “Is that delicious? Maybe a little gross since it was in someone else’s mouth?”
“Oh my god,” Coach mumbles behind me.
“It’s okay, Herman, IIII’ve got you. Niiiice and easy.” I feel like I’m moving as slow as I possibly can, which is not my default, but it pays off. Herman is distracted enough with his treat that he doesn’t bolt when I pick him up.
I stand and gently set him back down in his cage, with Coach right behind me, setting the apple pieces in the food bowl.
“Thank you so much,” I exhale. “I don’t think I could have done that without your help. Ferrets are so much easier.”
He looks at me quizzically, so I point to the picture on my desk.
“Fettuccini,” I supply. “He’s my stinky little soul mate.”
“Of course you have a ferret.”
“Excuse me?” I mock offense. He smirks in response.
Then the bell rings.
“Sorry about the apple,” he puts his hands in his pockets. “I’ll replace it.”
“Don’t worry about it. You should take it for yourself, actually. Payment for rescue services rendered.”
“I think that’s fair,” he grabs his apple and takes a bite. “See you around, Miss Callie.”
“ Freek-a-Leek , Coach Finnegan.”
He exits the room at the same time my students start meandering in. I find a tablecloth from the random crap closet and drape it over Herman’s Hideaway so he can have a little peace. Then I get the kids set up for their post-lunch activity and decide I’m knitting my new coach friend a “thank you” potholder.