memorizing my multiplication tables.
“It’s creative and fun and includes students of all abilities. Essentially, you just removed the misery of gym class for the fifty percent of the school population that isn’t athletic,” Andrea said.
“I was just looking for something fun for them to do,” I said, brushing off the praise.
“But I can tell it made you happy,” she said, pointing her sandwich at me.
I shrugged, blushing on the inside. “It was fun.”
“I’ll tell you what it looks like to me,” she said, opening a lunch bag and unpacking two baggies of baby carrots. She passed one to me. “It looks like you’re finding your place. Hitting your stride. You’re identifying problems like boring, socially painful gym classes, and you’re offering up creative solutions.”
“What are you getting at?” I asked, biting into a baby carrot.
“You look happy. In just a few short weeks, you’ve gone from displaced and feeling alone to making a place for yourself here. That’s no small feat, especially in high school.”
“I’m an adult in a high school,” I clarified. This wasn’t exactly my shot at a re-do.
“Trust me, the same popularity power plays exist at the adult level,” she said. “You look like you’re thriving. Your team is playing well together. You’ve landed the George Clooney of Culpepper. And if I’m not mistaken, you’re looking leaner than when you first started, you bitch.”
I let out a strangled laugh.
“Now, your students are starting to enjoy the effort you’re putting forth. You’ve really turned things around. Imagine where you’ll be at the end of the semester.”
I chewed and imagined. I wouldn’t be here anymore. At least, I shouldn’t be. I hadn’t given much thought to “after Christmas” or “after the semester.” I’d been distracted by a certain tall, sexy, tattooed, naked cross-country coach. And his derpy dog. And reacquainting myself with my childhood best friend. And spending quality time with my parents.
None of those things were bad. But I needed to refocus on what was important: The Future. My wounds were healing here in Culpepper. But I wanted more than this dusty little town had to offer. I wanted a corner office and stock options and people who said things like “Thank God you’re here,” when I walked in the door. I wanted to wear heels every day and buy a round of drinks for my team to celebrate a victory.
“You look like I just punched a puppy in the face,” Andrea observed.
“Do you help students with their resumes?” I asked, changing the subject.
She nodded and inhaled another bite of sandwich. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Think you could help me polish mine?” I asked.
“If you’re sure that’s what you want,” she said in that way adults spoke to kids who were being dumbasses.
I rolled my eyes. “Stop trying to guide me. Spit it out.”
“I’m just wondering why staying here and continuing what you’re doing isn’t on the table?”
“I spent my entire life trying to get out of this town. I’m not going to let a stop-over suck me back in,” I said lightly.
She wiped her mouth delicately with a paper napkin. “All right. But I think you’re making a mistake not considering it as a possibility. Especially since that possibility involves seeing Jake Weston naked all the time.”
“Yeah, well. This is fun for now. But it’s not what I want long-term.” I wanted Zinnia’s life. A sense of importance to what I was doing. I wanted to matter. To be irreplaceable. I wanted a husband or sexy life partner type to share a glass of crazy expensive wine or liquor and chortle over something super smart in front of the fire.
Jake wouldn’t leave Culpepper for me. And I wouldn’t stay here for him. That was the bottom line. The only thing that had remained constant in my life was The Plan. I couldn’t veer off course now.
“Then I’d be happy to take a look at your resume,” she said.
“It’s kind of a mess,” I warned.
“I love a challenge. Also this sandwich. I love this sandwich.”
Her desk phone rang. “This is Andrea,” she said perkily into the receiver. Her gaze slid to my face, and she pursed her lips together. “Sure. I’ll send her right over.”
She hung up. “Principle Eccles would like a moment of your time. It seems a certain Home Ec teacher was very upset about her poor, delicate sons being taught to play beer pong on school grounds.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
55
Marley
“Heard you got called to the principal’s office,” Vicky said, cranking Bon Jovi on her minivan radio. The windows