Chapter 7
Seven
Andie
Present
“Ms. Moore! Me, Ms. Moore! Let me, please!” All of my students shout in unison, getting excited about knowing the answer to a math problem as they practically leap out of their seats to make me notice their raised hands.
I chuckle at their enthusiasm, catching every smiling face in this colorful classroom. I made it a point from day one to display all of their creativity in the class. “Settle down, settle down. Everyone will get a chance.”
Teaching a bunch of second graders is not an easy feat, but it brings me immense joy to make these kids feel like there’s nothing in the world they can’t do.
I know how much it discourages you when others have the audacity to tell you what you can and can’t do. So, I make it a point to teach my kids that no dream is too big.
“Okay, Tabi, what do you think is the answer?” I tip my chin towards her, her pigtails swinging forward as she stands.
“Ms. Moore, I got an 8,” she says, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
Before I can correct her, Tucker and his friends start mocking her. “BOOOO!” Tabi loses her confidence, her shoulders bunching almost to her ears.
“Stop that, you guys.” My voice is stern. “Did we not talk about kindness and compassion?”
When the kids continue to laugh, I shake my head at them. “Tabi, it’s okay. We’ll do it again and help you figure out the right answer. Okay?” I console her with a soft smile. She nods and takes a seat.
“My mom says that things like kindness and compassion are for weak people,” Tucker believes that it’s a lesson he should be sharing with the class.
Honestly, I don’t blame him. Parents are almost always responsible for their child’s behavior. And in Tucker’s case, it’s one hundred percent true.
Instead of scolding him for interrupting the class, I try to make him understand that it takes strength to be a kind person. “Well, Tucker, but wouldn’t you say that helping someone or being polite to them might make you feel better?”
He seems to mull over it while I move in front of the class and lean against my table, arms crossed at my chest, a smile permanently etched on my face.
I believe that people around can sense vibes, especially children.
So, I always strive to be upbeat and confident, even when the situation or my thoughts might not warrant it.
Though the thoughts in my head aren’t particularly PG this morning. They haven’t been since last weekend. Noah and I came to an agreement of sorts, but we haven’t really followed through with it.
Not yet, anyway.
I know I was the one who bared herself to him a few days ago and asked him to help me explore my sexuality. He was reluctant for a lot of reasons, ranging from our age gap to our starkly different experience levels. It was mainly because of his relation to Ezra.
So, I wonder how long it would take him to reach out to me. I don’t doubt that he has an array of women at his beck and call. And that’s exactly why I need him to come to me first.
I need to know that I’m not forcing him into doing anything he doesn’t consent to.
Tucker’s loud opinion pulls me out of my meandering thoughts. “No, Ms. Moore, my mom says you’re wrong. I remember telling her that before, and she said that you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he scoffs, slumping back in his seat, acting far older than his age, but also not.
Mention of his mom’s name brings a sour taste to my tongue. She’s one of those parents who believe that just because they pay for their child’s education, they have the right to treat the teacher however they want.
The class starts murmuring among themselves, finding yet another topic to gossip about. I stand straight and clap my hands a couple of times to grab their attention, but they fall on deaf ears. Just as I’m about to speak, I’m interrupted by the Vice Principal knocking on the classroom door.
A hush falls over the class, and I shake my head at the children—my cute little scared cats.
“Come on, kids. Solve the next question in your notebooks. I’ll come check in a minute,” I say, pointing to the board.
After giving them something to do, I smooth a hand down my dress and head towards Mrs. Deena, who is incessantly tapping her foot on the floor like she has been waiting for centuries.
I wish I could roll my eyes at her, but I hide it with a faux smile. “Good morning, ma’am,” I greet her.
“Morning,” she reverts, the words costing her too much pride. “With all the howling your class was doing, it looks like you can’t manage them,” the Vice Principal taunts.
My smile drops for a split second before turning into a sickeningly sweet one. People like her thrive on knowing that they have power over the emotions of others. They relish that their words can cause the intended hurt to their target.
So, naturally, I do my best not to let her have that.
“They’re kids, and kids are supposed to enjoy. It makes the class all the more lively. Wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Deena?” I turn my head toward the students, my hand pressed to my chest to emphasize the point.
She huffs, “Fun is not why they come to school, Ms. Moore. They come to gain knowledge, though I wonder how much you are succeeding in giving it to them.”
“I think their report cards will be the judge of that.” Her eyes practically squint at the corner, stressing her wrinkles as she looks me up and down.
I hate that.
My hands barely restrain themselves from curling into fists. People like her undo all of my therapy. I hate that she thinks she can judge me based on how my body looks. She can’t. No one can.
And yet, they always do.
“Well, I’m here to tell you,” she diverts the topic because what else can she do, “that you’re now in charge of the end-of-year school play for all of the second-grade classes.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I blink at her, giving her the chance to correct herself because I couldn’t have heard her right.
She can’t just decide something like that on her own. “You’ll be planning the play for the children.”
“No, I heard what you said. I meant, I never volunteered. And I wasn’t told anything before this conversation.”
She cocks an eyebrow at me, unimpressed. “Well, I’m telling you now. Aren’t I?” This time, it’s she who gives me a fake smile, getting back at me in her own way.
My shoulders stiffen. I’m not ready to take on such a huge responsibility, especially when I’m still on contract.
“Mrs. Deena,” I clear my throat, “I don’t believe I’m the right person for this job. I’ve never done something like this, and I think I could be of more use as a helper to someone who could do a better job at handling it.”
I try placating her, but my pleas fall on deaf ears. Her back straightens as she slides a hand through her neatly straightened gray hair. “I was not asking, Ms. Moore.”
“Remember, your position in this school depends on how well this showcase goes,” she warns. “One misstep, and you just might lose your place here.”
I open my mouth to say something, anything that could possibly change her mind, but she interrupts, raising her finger, “I’ll leave you to it. Nice chat.” With a smug smile plastered across her face, she struts away, leaving me drowning.
As I head back inside to teach the students, I realize one thing. This end-of-year play will either secure my job and let me relish in the joys of teaching, or I’ll have to go back and complete my law degree to secure myself a stable income and to keep a roof over my head that’s mine.
And the latter is not an option I am particularly keen on.
* * *
That evening, I’m correcting the students’ assignment, sitting cocooned in my couch with a bottle of wine on the table and the Bluetooth speaker serenading me with Taylor Swift songs.
With a sigh, I close another notebook and take a sip of wine straight from the bottle. Letting the bottle rest on my lap, I stretch my neck, massaging the tight muscles, my eyes taking in the television hanging on the opposite yellow wall.
Looking down at the notebooks continuously usually makes my muscles sore. But I’ll take this pain any day if it means I get to shape children into something beautiful and quench their thirst for knowledge.
The responsibility of the showcase weighs on my shoulders, adding more than usual. The ringing of my phone through the speaker interrupts Taylor’s regaling of ME! and my anxious thoughts.
I grab my phone from the table when the screen lights up with Ezra’s name. Disconnecting the Bluetooth, I swipe the green button and place the device next to my ear.
“Hey, Kiddo,” he greets.
Kaeli’s voice follows as she enthusiastically yells, “Hello, Andie!” Some shuffling sound crackles through the speaker.
A year ago, Kaeli would’ve never been so overtly friendly, not that I knew her then.
But being with my brother has opened her to a new world of possibilities.
She may have been hurt in the past, but she’s trying not to let that stifle the relationships she could have or the type of person she can grow to become.
And I could not be more proud of her.
“Hey, Kaeli! How are you? Gotta catch up soon!” I reply, settling in with the bottle of wine.
“We definitely should!” she agrees, her voice louder than it was a second ago.
My brother heaves a dramatic sigh, “If you’re both done monopolizing my time, I would like to talk to my sister.”
Both Kaeli and I burst into a chuckle. “Sure, darling. Go ahead,” Kaeli says.
And just like that, Ezra’s voice turns to the sweetest ever. “Thank you, Feather.” God, he’s such a goner. There’s no one quite like Kaeli to knock him down a peg or two, and honestly, he wouldn’t even object to it.
“I called you to remind you about the afternoon brunch this Sunday,” he relays.
I wince, glad that I’m behind a device because I did actually forget about that with everything going on. “Oh, brunch! Yes, I’ll be there,” I lie.
Being the elder brother that he is, he sees through it, or more like hears. “You forgot, didn’t you?” he states, and I can picture his eyes narrowed at me.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “How’d you know?” I say, and take a sip of the wine.
He chuckles, his tone smug when he reveals, “Your pitch always rises when you’re lying.”
“Darn, the cons of growing up together,” I jest, making him laugh.
Kaeli’s voice comes through the speaker as she calls for Ezra. “Ezra, come here, darling! We had a little bit of whipped cream left from last week!”
My brother’s voice turns sultry, “Give me just a sec, Feather! Then I’m all yours, and I assure you we’ll make good use of the whipped cream.”
“As much as I love you both, I do not need the image of my brother enjoying whipped cream with his girlfriend burned into my retinas even through imagination,” I quip.
He laughs, which is something else he has started doing more often now. Kaeli and Ezra are good for each other, and while I’m the happiest for them, sometimes that feeling of ending up alone creeps inside of me, crippling me.
“Alright, bye, Kiddo. See you Sunday,” he says right before he hangs up.
With a sigh, this one even more tired, I let the phone drop beside me and slump back into the couch. I attempt to drown the melancholy of not having anyone to fulfill my desires in the bottle of wine and Taylor’s voice, my only companions.
I don’t need anyone. And I don’t need to date to find pleasure.
I sit up straight when an idea sparks to life. If Noah won’t give me what I want, seeing as it’s been almost a week since he agreed to help me explore, and yet he hasn’t made any contact.
I can’t force him to be with me, nor do I want to. But I can certainly find someone else. There are enough apps to help me discover someone more willing. I’ll have to pivot towards my last resort.
Not ideal, but necessary.
Satisfied with myself, I grab my phone and download a dating app, my ambitions emboldened by the alcoholic liquid flowing through me.
Let’s forget about Noah and what his athletic, broad, and built body could do to me.