Page 6 of Love Me Not

“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.

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