20. Claire
twenty
“I’m proud of you, buddy.”
“Proud enough for me to get one of them gummy bears?”
He indicates to the bag of snacks I always keep in my purse for myself. I roll my eyes and shove at Rocco’s backpack.
“No. Now go,” I chuckle.
With his completed worksheet, and a plan for the next assignment in mind, Rocco heads out of the study hall lounge. Without his company, I’m left buzzing with the reason he’s here in the first place.
Nathan.
There was an email with the subject line RT in my inbox at eight-thirty last night. Of course, I’d read it then. Of course it was about a student, and not something like Relaxation Time or ReallygreatTitties. Hey. A girl can dream, right?
Please meet in my office tomorrow morning at 7:15 to discuss next moves with Rocco Thatcher.
Regards,
Mr. Nathan Harding
In my last week as a floater, I’ve done several different odd jobs. I’ve been an emergency substitute, pulled cafeteria duty, and been the copy and lamination bitch. I’ve also tutored and helped as an aide. For all of those positions, Nathan simply emailed me. Tuesday Assignment: 8th grade science. Wednesday Assignment: 6th grade study hall.
Why, today, had he insisted that I meet with him? It wouldn’t have taken many more letters in that email to tell me that Rocco needed extra help. Our conversation lasted less than five minutes. Something has been nagging at me all day, like a tug of war between, He just wanted to explain the details in person, and, He wanted to see you.
The formality of his words defended the former. The pink in his cheeks and secret smile were proof of the latter.
I had wanted to hardcore bully him about the regards to kick off that meeting. But instead, it stayed in my fantasies, where I’ve effectively locked him away. After that moment on Halloween, I know I can’t let it happen again.
He’s my boss. He’s nearly ten years older than me. Just because we had one moment in his office—that ended with him telling me to count to a hundred before I left—doesn’t mean a damn thing. And besides, I don’t have time to add a man into the mix of my already filled calendar.
My overthinking is cut short when the bell rings. I’ve been having lunch with Penelope, Lucy, Aaron, and Sam, and Juliet just rejoined the crew after her maternity leave. We’re in Sam’s classroom, since it’s a science lab and the tables are bigger. When I enter with my lunch bag, I slide right into a conversation about middle school relationship drama.
“…comes up to me and says ‘Do you have someone named Hayley in your class?’ I said, ‘I sure do. How can I help?’ And he looks me dead in the eye and says, ‘Can you tell her to give me my Under Armour hoodie back? And tell her new boyfriend that she was cheating on me for three months, and he should dump her immediately.’ Then he stormed off to second period. I did not go to college for adolescent relationship counseling. I am not Dr. Phil!”
Sam collapses into a chair, and the rest of my friends laugh.
“She has a terrible home life. Her parents are the same way,” Lucy supplies in defense.
In all of the complaining I’ve done about my own parents, I never thought of the stability they showed by the fact that they are desperately, sickeningly in love.
Just with each other. Their kids? Not so much.
“How are my munchkins?” I ask Juliet. “Are they happy to have their real mom back?”
“Some days, I think they miss you more than they like me,” she frowns. I instantly feel guilty.
“I’m sorr?—”
“No, oh my God, don’t apologize!”
She holds up a hand and smiles, and some of that pressure lessens.
“I am totally okay not being the ‘fun teacher.’ I like things done a certain way, and they’re just adjusting. They can have fun in other classes. Just ask Sam.”
Sam scratches the back of his neck.
“Yeah, sometimes they have a little too much fun in my room…”
“Ask him about the year he forgot to actually test his kids!” Aaron shouts through cupped hands, mocking Sam.
“You what?” I laugh.
Sam scowls at Aaron, settling him with a warning stare.
“Learned a valuable lesson about work/fun balance.”
The conversation in our short lunch period turns back toward student relationship drama and seating charts. Since Lucy and Aaron know most of the students—being the counselor and the gym teacher—they go to town Tetris-ing together Sam and Juliet’s seating charts for pure torture.
“See, this is why I just seat them alphabetically,” Penelope says quietly. She hasn’t spoken much since she got here, and as the rest of the crew is arguing over who the next seventh grade power couple will be, she munches quietly on her bag of apple slices.
“God bless all of you. I don’t think I’d be able to handle the mixture of teaching content and managing behaviors.”
“At least you’re taking the job seriously. I can’t imagine what Nathan’s been going through with Carol.”
At the mention of his name, I feel my cheeks turn pink.
“She’s nice, but yeah, I haven’t heard too many great things about the class she took over for. Isn’t she here until winter break?”
“Unfortunately. I have her on my blocked list.”
“You can have a blocked list?”
She nods, propping her feet up on the chair back in front of her and crossing one jogger-clad ankle over the other.
“Since the system is automated, we can all choose our preferred subs, and the ones we don’t want to see our vacancies. I’d literally rather have an administrator covering than have a few of the people on our list. Honestly, let Don see how the inside of a classroom actually functions.”
“He wasn’t a teacher before this?”
Penelope shakes her head and sputters a laugh.
“Admin come from all over the place. Our old principal, who just retired, was a classroom teacher back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, so we didn’t trust his insights anyway. But no. Don was in the military, and then he was a firefighter, I think? Got his higher ed degree expedited so he could make decisions in the school where his kids went, so they could still play sports if they were failing, and override their missed days for all the vacations he takes.”
“What?!”
“Oh, you haven’t heard? We are nine-month-employees, so we should ‘take our vacations during our summers off.’ But he is a twelve-month-employee, so we’re not allowed to question the amount of time he’s out of office.”
“You’re joking.”
Her wide smile is painted in overwhelming frustration as she says, “Welcome to the world of education,” and finishes her fruit.
In unison, all of our cell phones ding and vibrate.
Aaron exclaims, “Easy cash, friends! Who wants to keep me company this season?!”
Lucy is already tapping away on her phone, and Penelope snorts and says, “In your dreams.”
“It fills up fast. Seriously, best idea Luce has had—aside from deciding that she wanted to spend forever with me.”
Penelope makes a gagging noise, Lucy rolls her eyes but then bats her lashes at her man, and I tap my phone to see what all the fuss is about.
An email reads WINTER ATHLETICS – GAME DAY ASSISTANCE NEEDED.
“What’s this?”
“A way for staff to earn extra cash, and for coaches to have to hound player parents less,” Aaron says as I open the spreadsheet. Since it’s a live document, I can see Lucy’s name filling in on all of the boys’ basketball slots.
“You’re technically an employee. You can sign up if you want to, Claire. It’s good money.”
“What would I have to do?”
“Depends. You could take admissions money, or work the clock at games. If you’re willing to travel, some sports need a season-long bookkeeper.”
I eye the list before me. Endless dates with after school hours blink like a wide open canvas.
If it’s for work, my parents don’t hound me as much.
If it’s for work, I have extra cash in my pockets, in my freedom fund.
If it’s for work, I have some of my freedom back.
“And if I don’t know how to work a basketball clock…”
“It’s super easy,” Lucy insists without looking up from her phone. “I learned in about five minutes. Actually, we have this really useful cheat sheet that we keep with the box now.”
Without even thinking, I’m typing my name onto every available slot that I can fill.
The adrenaline buzz I get, despite the fact that I’ll be doing this for work, sizzles through me like a flame so hot that I don’t even consider how sad it is that this is what I have to do to get my freedom back.