Page 5 of Secret Love

CHAPTER TWO

NEW GIRL

TRU

I think about the hot guy—scratch that, he wasallman—in the grocery store all the way to school.Henley. Unique name, but it fits him. He was so tall that even in my heels, he still stood a good five or six inches taller than me. His chest was so broad, I can only imagine how amazing a hug from him would feel. And those chocolate-brown eyes that crinkled when he smiled…I’m still feeling the warmth of those eyes and that smile.

My mom calls just as I’m pulling into the parking lot. I accept the call and her voice fills the car.

“Good morning! I can’t believe you’re still up. It’s past your bedtime.”

“Good morning! I was too excited to sleep. A kangaroo was in our yard earlier, and it was the cutest thing, but goodness, those things have a temper on them! It tried its best to kick me, but fortunately, I was fast. Anyway, I wanted to wish you a great first day of school!” She laughs and I smile, a wave of missing her hitting me in the gut. “You’re going to be running the place before we know it.”

I laugh. “Thanks, Mom. But I’m only the sub, remember?”

“It still counts! You’re doing what you’ve always wanted to do,” she says. “And they’ll love you so much, they’llfinda position for you if it’s not this one.”

“I love you. You’re always cheering me on, no matter what.”

“Always will, baby girl.”

I’m still smiling when I hang up the phone. I think my mom will be calling me her baby girl forever, but I don’t mind it when it’s coming from her. My ex-boyfriend, Chet, picked up on the nickname, and it grated on my nerves when he said it.

I was a substitute teacher in Boulder for a while, but when my parents moved to Sydney, I decided to find a place I love. I liked Boulder a lot, but it didn’t feel like home…especially after my mom left. My parents’ moves are always temporary, so unless I wanted to live in a new place constantly, I had to choose where I wanted to land. If they’d stayed in Guatemala, I would’ve lived there forever. We lived there for two years when I was ten and it felt like home to me. Once we moved from there, I never felt fully settled anywhere.

Passing through Silver Hills over the past few years, I’ve thought it seemed like a dream place to live, so I’m hoping to find a more permanent job here and find out.

As I’m getting out of the car, my phone buzzes and I turn the sound off while checking the text.

Mom

I meant to tell you that Dad sends his love.

I stare at the phone for a few seconds. I highly doubt my dad said anything of the sort, but my mom tries so hard to keep up the pretense that my dad and I have a great relationship. We don’t.

I’d like to believe that marriage is sacred, but when it comes to my parents, I wouldn’t shed a tear if they divorced. Mom’s given up several jobs she’s loved over the years to follow him. He’s moved her all over the world every few years with his job in engineering, and it’d be different if she wanted to move, but she’d love nothing more than to settle down somewhere at this point. It’d also be different if he treated her well, but he doesn’t. My mom is upbeat and bubbly and full of optimism with everyone but my dad; with him, she’s quiet and subservient and a shadow of herself.

It’s heartbreaking to watch.

I decide to not respond to my mom’s text. I need to get inside anyway. The hallways echo with the sound of my heels clicking against the floor. Students mill around here and there, but it’s not too busy yet. I make my way to the front office and smile when the receptionist looks up from behind her desk.

“Please tell me you’re our sub,” she says, sounding irritated.

“I am.” My grin widens, but it’s lost on…Mrs. Davenport, according to the nameplate on her desk. “I’m Tru Seymour,” I add.

I show her my district ID lanyard and she nods, handing me a form.

“I’ll get your key and you’ll be required to wear your lanyard and sign this log first thing each time you’re called back…ifyou’re ever called back,” she says. She looks me over and under her breath, she says, “Good luck in that getup.”

Well, that’s a pin stuck straight into my confidence balloon, but I think I hide the way I wilt inside very well.

“Let’s hope,” I say, crossing my fingers.

I sign the form and pay close attention when she tells me how to get to my class. Directions and I don’t go together very well.

By late morning, I’ve already had a sleepy class where the kids barely responded to anything I said, and a rowdy class where they were a little too caffeinated. The class before lunch is a nice balance. The kids are quiet but responsive. The assignment today involves the students reading their favorite passages from their favorite authors. It’s part of a project they’ve been working on. The huge poster boards with pictures, quotes, and facts about their favorite authors are set up around the room, and there are only a few left who haven’t done their reading passages.

My finger skims down the page for the next name and I see a red line. I look down the list to see if there are any other red lines, but there aren’t any. Those who went before today have already been graded by Mrs. Carboni and the ones who haven’t yet are blank. I’ve left notes on how I think they should be graded, but I’ll let Mrs. Carboni put it in her gradebook herself. That’s one of those boundaries I typically don’t cross as a substitute teacher unless given explicit direction to do so. I skip the name with the red line and we listen to the last two students read. There are still a few minutes left of class, so I circle back to the name with the red line.

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