6. Lucy
six
Lucy
Afrown pulls my brows together. I count the hours again and get the same number.
The paper calendar, adorned with clipart of sunshine and seashells, crinkles in my hand as I tighten my grip and walk down the short hallway to the preschool director’s office.
After a couple of swift knocks, she calls me in, and I push the door open.
Her office looks the same as always, cluttered and haphazard.
None of the decorations seem to go together, but instead of feeling cozy and eclectic, it feels disjointed.
“Hey, Leslie. I have a quick question for you.”
Her eyes, magnified by the thick lenses of her large tortoise shell glasses, dart to the calendar in my hand before climbing up to my face. She laces her fingers on top of the papers scattered on her desk and blows out a long breath. “This is about the summer schedule, isn’t it?”
I nod and plop down in one of the squeaky green vinyl chairs in front of her desk. “Yes, it is. This is barely half the time you promised me.”
Her shoulders droop, and she purses her lips.
“I know, Lucy. I’m sorry. I had a budget meeting with the headmaster after speaking with you, and he wasn’t as generous as I had hoped.
He pushed me to use the high school and college-aged girls to fill the schedule because they agreed to a smaller hourly wage than our teachers make. ”
My eyes slide closed, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Summer break starts on Monday—in three days. Why didn’t you tell me sooner so I could look for something else? You know I need the money right now.”
The Monday morning after I got my diagnosis, I went straight to her office to ask her to consider me for extra income opportunities as they arise because I need the money to pay for all my diabetes supplies.
She clears her throat. “I’m sorry. I meant to.
I just got busy. You know how hectic the end of the school year and the start of summer care are.
But I did fight for you, Lucy. The headmaster wanted me to cut you completely and only staff the younger girls.
Cutting your hours in half was the most I could get out of him. ”
“So, what am I supposed to do this summer? Cut my living expenses in half? Something tells me that the pharmacy won’t care that my paycheck decreased by fifty percent when I go to pay for my insulin.”
I run my hand through my hair and draw a deep breath, trying to calm the heat building in my chest.
Leslie blows out a long breath and sits back in her chair. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I did everything I could.”
I clench my jaw and rise from my seat, choosing to walk away before I say something I’ll regret. Wordlessly, I leave her office and walk down the hallway to my classroom.
It doesn’t take long to gather my bag and empty lunchbox, then make my way out to my car. Once I’ve started the vehicle and the air conditioning is blowing full blast, I rest my head on the steering wheel and release a long, low groan.
This news is infuriating enough on its own, but it came on the heels of my third “We regret to inform you…” email this morning.
It feels like every time I turn around, another door is being slammed in my face.
Maybe I should be encouraged that this door only closed halfway.
Still, half of my already meager income won’t cover my monthly bills, especially if I find a temporary place to stay and have to pay the rent on my own.
I guess I’m moving in with Mom and Dad after all.
This is one of the few times that I wish I were as career-driven as my friends.
Emerson is dominating in her social media management job.
Reese is an incredible nurse. Skye is such a good pediatric intern that she was accepted into several programs. Ultimately, she chose to stay in Nashville to be close to home.
Then there’s me, a preschool teacher who picked this career less out of ambition and more because it seemed perfect for the family I’ve always dreamed of having.
My plan clearly isn’t working out the way I’d hoped.
I spend several minutes wallowing in my own self-pity before I metaphorically pick myself up and dust myself off. I spend the short drive to my friends’ house praying and begging God to send me a job opportunity that will solve all my financial problems.
As I climb the porch steps of the tiny cottage my friends all rent together, a flicker of jealousy overtakes me.
Emerson, Reese, and Skylar moved into this rental house shortly after we moved back from college.
It’s not fair for me to be jealous, though.
They offered to let me share the bigger room with someone, but I turned them down because Violet and Landon had just gotten married and moved into their own place, leaving Sloane without a roommate.
Despite turning down their offer, they still gave me best-friend perks, including a key and an open invitation. I slide my key into the lock on the front door and let myself in. Taking a step into the living room, I call, “Hello? Who’s home?”
“Just me,” Skye’s familiar voice calls from the bedroom at the end of the hall. She ended up with the bigger bedroom and private bathroom.
Without hesitation, I kick my shoes off, toss my bag on the couch, and make my way down the hallway. When I reach Skye’s bedroom, I skip the greeting, channel my inner Disney Princess, and fling myself over the bed. On the way, I barely register her books and notes laid neatly across her desk.
As I draw a deep breath from the center of her bed, I recognize the familiar scent of Skye’s signature study candle—rosemary and mint.
She was my roommate in college, and our room always smelled like that candle.
She says that rosemary promotes clarity and mint improves memory retention.
She’s always been at the top of her class at every level. So, maybe the candles work.
With the scent permeating the room, it’s safe to conclude that she’s studying for another case or exam, and I’m interrupting her.
Skye chuckles from the desk. “What’s the matter with you?”
I groan, letting the soft down comforter absorb most of the sound, then turn my head to the side so she can understand my complaint. “Being diabetic is too expensive. I want to cancel my subscription to this disease.”
Lifting my gaze to meet Skylar’s, I see a soft smile spread on her face.
Despite being one of the most type-A people I know, being around her is instantly soothing.
She’s calm and thoughtful, and she can sense a spiral before it begins.
She’s talked me off several emotional ledges in the years that we’ve been friends.
Skylar Murphy is definitely someone you want in your corner when you feel like your life is falling apart.
She blows out a sigh, tilting her head a little. “I’m sorry, Lu. I wish it worked that way.”
I huff and puff as I roll onto my back and spread my limbs out like a starfish under her ceiling fan. “Me too. Even if my insulin were suddenly free, I’d still have a very tight summer.”
Her dark brown brows scrunch in a frown over her chocolate-tinted eyes. Her caramel hair is piled into a messy bun on top of her head, and I can just make out the shiny ends of a few pens she must have stuck into her hair and forgotten about. “Why? Did something else come up?”
I roll onto my side to face her, leaning on my elbow to prop myself up. “My hours were cut at the preschool for the entire summer.”
Her eyes widen. “What? Why?”
“Budget stuff. They can almost pay two high school students with what they’re paying me.”
Skye’s brows rise. “Well, sure, but what kind of value are they getting for that? You’re way more experienced than any high school student. You have a degree in early childhood education, for goodness’ sake.”
“They don’t care about that during the summer. It’s basically babysitting, and my rates are too high for their needs.”
She blows out a long breath and crosses her arms over her chest. “How big of a decrease was it?”
“Fifty percent.”
She leans closer, her eyes bugging in shock. “What?”
I close my eyes, let my head fall back onto the bed, and sigh. “I know.”
“Why didn’t they tell you sooner? You could have arranged something else for the summer.”
“That’s what I said. Leslie said she got busy and forgot.”
Skye raises a brow and shakes her head. “Sounds like she’s unorganized to me. If her mind is that scattered, I’d hate to see her office.”
I chuckle, raising my brows as I scan her very organized and tidy room. “You’d hate it.”
She rolls her eyes, then crosses her arms and sits back in her chair again. “What are you going to do?”
I run my hands up and down my face as I draw deep breaths. “I don’t know. Call around and see if anyone is hiring part-time for the summer, I guess.”
Skye huffs a short chuckle. “Good luck with that. You know that people around here hire their own kids for the summer.”
I groan as I sit up. “I know, you’re right. It’s going to be impossible. I don’t know what I’m going to do, Skye.”
“I’ll ask around and see what I can find out for you.”
I nod and blow out a long breath, mumbling my thanks. I let my eyes slip closed as I pray that God will open a door for me, hopefully sooner rather than later. Every day that goes by without a solution to this problem is one day closer to having to move back home to afford to keep myself alive.