Page 3 of Love Me Not

Georgie liked bold patterns, owned a dozen different colorful eyeglass frames, wore whimsical earrings, and added hair color to her curly silver locks. Her favorites were purple, pink, and blue, or a mixture of all three.

I never colored my hair, rotated between three sets of tiny hoop earrings, and stuck with my standard uniform of pants, knit top, and a cardigan, all in various shades of black, gray, navy, or cream. The one time I wore a dress my students reacted as if I’d walked in wearing lingerie. One even said he couldn’t believe I had legs.

Not sure what he thought I’d been walking on all this time.

Plain worked for me for several reasons. One, I couldn’t pull off what Georgie wore. Her choices required a level of flair I did not possess. She was also willing to put in the effort. I was not. But mostly, I preferred for the kids to focus on what I taught and not what I wore.

Not that Georgie’s style made her less effective as a teacher. She had the personality to do both: be bold and be a good educator. In my experience, this was not the norm.

Not to say I didn’t have a good personality. I could be witty when I wanted to be. But for the most part, I was sarcastic and cynical and completely uninterested in anything that wasted my time. A simple wardrobe meant I could grab and go. Hence my current outfit of comfortable jeans and a My weekend is booked T-shirt, featuring a stack of novels.

“What does he smell like?” Georgie asked, poised to write down my answer.

I swished the tea around in my drama teacher mug that featured nine phrases containing the expletive I shouted as I fell off the step stool. Needless to say, it never left the lounge. Despite being a devout thespian in high school, I never had the courage to seriously pursue the craft, but I’d managed to build a thriving drama club here at Carnegie High.

Well, more struggling than thriving these days, but I hoped to turn that around.

Keeping my answer vague, I said, “Like a man.”

Georgie narrowed her eyes. “More specific, please.”

“Like a clean man?”

In truth, he smelled like a forest after a storm in the middle of autumn, but no way was I saying that out loud.

She snapped the notebook shut. “I’ll have to find out on my own.”

“What are you going to do? See him in the hall and fall in his general direction, hoping he’ll catch you?”

Wiggling her brows, she grinned. “I have my ways.”

Of course she did.

“I’m going back to work.” Dumping the last of my now cold tea into the sink, I rinsed my mug before drying and putting it back in the cabinet. “Are you going to finish up today, or will you need to come back tomorrow?”

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” She closed the container from her leftovers and tossed it into her canvas lunch bag. “This new room is way bigger than my old one. I need to hit the store tonight for more storage containers and another shelf. Maybe two.”

Georgie taught freshman, and this year’s class was the largest incoming group in a decade. She was going to need that space. My room was mostly done, but I’d likely need another day to finish the details. I hated changing things around once school started. The kids should be able to come in and be comfortable in the space, easily learning the layout.

The less change the better.

“I’ll be here, too.” After tossing the empty box from my Kung Pau chicken, I led the way to the door. “Unless I get more done this afternoon than expected, but I can always use tomorrow to polish up my lesson plans.”

The curriculum was pretty locked in, but I tried to keep things fresh. The lack of attention to my appearance did not carry over into my work. Teaching was the only job I ever wanted to do, and if I planned to keep going for another twenty-plus years, I had to make the classes as interesting for me as they were for the kids.

Georgie was still gathering her things when I reached the door, but before I could grab the handle to pull, the thing flew open, missing my nose by inches and sending me reeling backwards. A strong hand reached out and grabbed my wrist, keeping me from crashing into the tables behind me.

Stunned and still teetering on my heels, I once again stared into the concerned eyes of Coach Collins. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

The building was crawling with teachers, but sure. No one would be in the teachers’ lounge during lunch time.

“I’m fine,” I said, jerking my arm away and straightening my clothes. “Do you have it out for me or something?”

“Are you always this accident prone?” he shot back, though the curve of his full lips took away a bit of the sting.

Fine. The step stool had been my own fault, but I wasn’t taking the blame for simply leaving a room.

“Maybe if you weren’t trying to fling the door off the hinges.”

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