Chapter 2
Chapter Two
“I should work out more.” Every muscle in my body ached.
“By more do you mean work out for the first time ever?”
I opened one eye to peer menacingly at Donna Bradford from where I lay sprawled on her couch. Earlier in the year she’d purchased her grandparents’ old house, which needed a total renovation. Four months later, she not only had her dream home, but the contractor turned out to be the love of her life. Today we moved her in, and I had no idea unpacking boxes could cause this much pain.
“I stretch. Sometimes.”
Josie Danvers lifted my legs, plopped down on the couch, and dropped my feet into her lap. “I’m pooped.”
“I really appreciate all the help today.” Donna glanced around her new living room. “I can’t believe this is my place now.”
“Believe it,” I snapped, “because we are never moving you again.”
She laughed. “You didn’t even do the heavy lifting.”
That’s what the guys were for.
My friends had the relationship levels covered, while I held down the decrepit old spinster role. There was Donna’s new boo—as the kids would say—Calvin Hopkins, my childhood best friend Becca’s husband Jacob Kim, then librarian extraordinaire Megan Knox’s fiancé Ryan Stallings, and Josie’s boyfriend Miles Porter.
Becca and Jacob left early to get their little one home. At not quite four months old, Baby Noah needed a bath and his beauty sleep. In reality, he was already gorgeous with a full head of black hair and his father’s dark eyes and dimples, but, like most of us, he got cranky when tired so best to keep him on a steady sleep schedule.
Miles had a party across town so he left not long after the furniture was in. His company, Hullaballoo, was the premier children’s event planner in town.
“We almost had even more muscle today,” Josie said. “Some new coach at your school.”
She had my attention. Sitting up, I said, “What?”
“Becca says he teaches history or something. I guess since they’re both in the social studies department, he and Jacob have become friends. They tried recruiting him to help with the move, but something came up and he couldn’t make it.”
Dropping back to the couch, I thanked whatever higher power helped me dodge that bullet. After the map incident, which Georgie still insisted on calling a meet-cute, I’d passed Coach Collins in the hall a couple of times. Despite my efforts to ignore him—or maybe because of them—he made sure to smile and say hello every time.
I returned the greeting but not the smile.
“Before I forget,” Josie said, “what are we doing for Megan’s bachelorette party?”
Megan and Ryan had left as well, since she had to be at work early in the morning. Though not attached to a school, being a librarian still meant getting ready for the start of a new academic year. Their wedding was set for early October at a beautiful event space created and run by Donna’s contractor-turned-boyfriend, Calvin.
He was not only a top-notch contractor, but an entrepreneur, small business guru, and all around good guy. Also hot. Very hot. A fact not lost on me, as I was single, not dead.
“Has she said what she wants to do?” Donna asked. “I’ve been so busy packing for this move that I’m out of the loop.”
Megan hadn’t said anything to me. “If she’s told anyone, it’ll be Becca.”
“That’s true,” Josie said. “She is the planner.”
While she was out on maternity leave, Becca’s boss handled many of the wedding details, but the official planner in charge of Megan’s wedding was still Becca.
“Speaking of the wedding.” I sat up and dropped my feet to the floor, ignoring the protests coming from my thighs. “Do you think Megan will care if I wear Converses with my dress?”
We were all bridesmaids in this shindig, just as we’d been in Becca’s wedding back in January. And because our friends didn’t hate us, the dresses for both occasions were lovely, but I didn’t want to spend the day in heels if I could avoid it. As the maid of honor for Becca, I’d tolerated the pumps until mid-reception, when I changed into cute little slippers that matched the dress.
This time around, Becca was serving the maid of honor role, and as a mere civilian bridesmaid, I could hopefully get away with a more casual shoe.
“She probably won’t care, but you’ll have to ask her.” Josie uncurled off the couch, yawning as she went. “Donna, the house is gorgeous.” Leaning down, she gave her a hug. “Enjoy settling in, and call me if you need anything. I can hang a picture like nobody’s business.”
Between the pin incident and decorating my new classroom, I was done hanging things for a while.
Josie turned my way. “Have a good first day of school. It’s Wednesday, right?”
“Yep.” I had one more glorious day off. “Another break over too soon.”
As much as I loved teaching, I also loved having my summers off.
“Back to the rat race with the rest of us.” Donna rose from her chair to show Josie out, and I leaned back with my eyes closed, consciously trying to relax my muscles.
“You want to crash here?” Donna asked when she returned to the living room.
If I had a toothbrush on me I might have considered it. “Nah, I’ll head home.”
She curled up on the end of the couch. “You don’t have to rush off. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”
That sounded ominous. “Did I offend someone today? I’m too tired to remember.”
Being blunt could be an attribute, but there were times when words flew out of my mouth before the filters kicked in.
She shook her head. “Nothing like that. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Okay about what?”
“Well…you know. Me and Calvin.”
Did she think I wanted her man? “Why wouldn’t I be okay about you and Calvin?”
Of the five in our friend group, Donna and I were the most alike. Seeing her hem and haw around whatever she was getting at confused me even more than the am I okay stuff.
Finally spitting it out, she said, “I don’t want you to feel like the odd one out when we’re all together. Everyone is coupled up, and I know you’re fine not being part of a couple, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying about you.”
Way back in high school, I’d set Becca up with a guy in my homeroom class. His name was Bryan and I knew within days of meeting him that he and Becca would be perfect together. And they had been, until he was tragically killed a few years ago. But for fifteen years before that awful day, we were the three musketeers.
I was used to being the extra wheel. The outlier of the group. Nothing made me happier than to see my friends blissfully in love and knowing that I could go home and have no one in my space. In my mind, I had the better deal.
“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m happy for all of you, and I’m totally content being on my own. Not every woman needs a man in her life.”
She laughed. “I said the same until Calvin proved me wrong.”
“No one is going to prove me wrong.” Of this I was certain.
“So long as you don’t feel left out or uncomfortable. Tell us if that ever happens, okay?”
I could see this was really bothering her. “Don’t worry on my account. I’m not pretending in order to make you all feel okay about being happy. I am totally and completely fine. I like my life, I love being single, and I’m not lonely or sad. Honestly.” Leaning forward, I rubbed her knee. “Seeing you happy makes me happy, and so long as Calvin keeps treating you like the queen that you are, I’ll let him live.”
I was as fiercely protective of my friends as I was of my own solitude.
“I like him a lot so I appreciate that.” Lowering her voice, she said, “There isn’t much in the fridge, but Mom tucked a carton of my favorite ice cream into the freezer today. Should we dig in?”
“Are words like death by chocolate involved?”
Donna nodded. “We just have to figure out where Mom put the bowls.”
Hopping off the couch, I followed her into the kitchen. “I’ll find the spoons.”
After nearly ten years in the classroom, I no longer experienced first day jitters. In truth, I kind of missed them. But I’d worked hard to get the classes of my choosing, and working with juniors and seniors was by far my favorite. They were calmer and more mature than their younger counterparts, and that made for a more enjoyable teaching experience for me.
I also knew many of them before they stepped foot in my classroom. Either as a member of the drama club, from the lunch period I proctored, or because they participated in enough extracurricular activities that they were everywhere.
There was also the occasional trouble maker known by reputation alone. Teachers talked, after all. Those ones didn’t cross my path as much, and in my experience, there was often an underlying reason that no one knew about to explain the behavior.
“Ms. Pavolski!” came a voice down the hall as I strolled toward my classroom.
I spun to find Emma Whitmeyer barreling my way. Emma was the typical overachiever. Student council, newspaper, field hockey team, yearbook committee, and fortunately for me, drama club. She’d played the lead in our fall productions two years in a row, and carried the show both times.
First, she played the indomitable matchmaker Dolly Levi in Hello Dolly! Then she played the more staid yet loveable librarian Marian Paroo in The Music Man . Emma’s beautiful singing voice belonged on Broadway, and she planned to make it there someday. She also had personality out the wazoo, and more energy than a six-year-old on a pint of Red Bull.
“I missed you so much,” she exclaimed, wrapping me in a spine-cracking hug. “I’m a senior now. Can you believe it?”
I could believe it, as I’d been through this countless times before. Matching a student’s enthusiasm about coming to the end of their high school career and all the possibilities that come after was difficult as what they saw as a new beginning was an ending for me.
Don’t get me wrong. There are always a few I don’t miss, but most kids leave a tiny hole in my heart once they move on.
“You’re almost out of here,” I said with a squeeze before stepping back. “Love the hair. You must have cut off six inches.”
“Seven,” she said with a tap of the cute bob. “The long hair made me look too young.”
Why were they always in such a hurry to grow up? If they only knew how much adulting sucked.
“I like it.” Checking my watch, I said, “The bell’s going to ring soon. Aren’t you doing the announcements this year?”
Emma shifted out of the way to let a group of boys pass. “I am, but I’m dying to know. What play are we doing this fall? I spent the summer working on my Angelica Schuyler just in case we finally get to do Hamilton .”
Despite her practically begging me to consider the play, I knew we didn’t have the cast to handle such a colossal undertaking. I was also looking at stepping away from the musicals, which would break Emma’s heart. Something more understated would be better with the resources at hand, and I hoped that trying a contemporary story would draw more students to the club. The over-the-top productions were a much tougher sell to the general student population.
There was also the reality that none of my current students had Emma’s vocal chops. She was a talented kid, but others deserved a chance to shine as well.
“I have a few ideas but nothing is finalized yet. As soon as I lock one down, I’ll let you know.” The first bell rang, giving a five minute warning before first period. “You better get moving. You don’t want to be late for your first announcements.”
The hall grew crowded as Emma walked off, singing about never being satisfied. She was going to be so disappointed, but I knew she’d get her shot at the part eventually—no pun intended.
I continued on to my room, greeting returning students and dodging the ones too busy studying their schedules to watch where they were going. About twenty feet from my door, the crowd grew more dense until there was a full traffic jam. Fearing a fight already, I maneuvered my way through to find the source of the bottleneck.
I should have known.
Thankfully, violence wasn’t the reason, though I had the urge to commit some myself. Standing in his doorway was Coach Collins, holding court over what must have been half the football team.
“You’re creating a fire hazard,” I snapped, interrupting him.
“Hey, Ms. Pavolski,” one of the players said.
“Hello, boys.” To their leader, I said, “You can’t hold a meeting in the hallway.”
Unfazed, he crossed his arms. “I’m not holding a meeting.”
“Then what do you call this?”
“Some of the guys wanted to come see my room.”
“A number of people are gathered in one place, right outside your room.”
He looked over the crowd. “I guess so.”
“That’s the definition of a meeting.”
Lips tight, he dropped his arms and lost the smug grin. “I didn’t tell them to come here.”
“Doesn’t matter. By chance or by arrangement still counts as a meeting.” The second bell rang, indicating that all students and faculty should be in their respective classrooms. “Now they’re all late for class. Good job.”
Giving me what my grandmother would have called a stink eye, the coach clapped his hands loud enough to echo down the hall. “Get to class. I’ll see you on the practice field at fifteen thirty.”
Using military time outside of the military was so pretentious.
The students dispersed in all directions, backpacks swaying as they went. Three students shuffled into the coach’s classroom, clearly delayed by the roadblock he’d created.
“Will they get in trouble?” he asked, nodding his head toward the departing students.
He should have thought about that five minutes ago. “They’ll get a pass on the first day, but I suggest limiting team meetings to your locker room.”
Again, he argued, “That wasn’t a team meeting.”
“I don’t care if it was a séance. Keep it out of the hallway.”
With my own students to worry about, I spun on my heels and marched into my classroom, content that I’d wiped that annoyingly bemused grin off his far too handsome face.