Page 16 of Between the Lines

I cross my arms, my scowl deepening.

“Uh. See, well, Idid, I mean, until you went all angry-elf on me, and now I’m actually kind of second-guessing going the joking route. Heh.”

She shifts forward and backward on the balls of her feet, staringnervously at me as I give her the same stare down I recently gave to Sawyer Bruning.

“Why don’t you go back in the classroom so I can talk with Mr. Harding in private, Rocco. Do you know what needs to get done?”

“Yeah, I think so. I can ask Tyler for help?”

“As long as your answers don’t magically look just like his, then yes.”

“Alright, bet.”

Rocco scampers away from us and into the classroom. I sneak a peek when the door opens, and though I do see several students at their desks working, I’m still agitated. Claire’s lips part, but I sneak in first.

“Do you think this job is a joke?”

Her cheerful demeanor squashes, her brows bunching as her eyes do the same.

“I— what?”

“When you took the position as a long-term substitute, did you think you would be taking a vacation for the school year?”

“Mr. Harding, I?—”

“Playing catch in the hallway with a student who has been in my office four times since Monday, and who, for all intents and purposes, should have had that ball taken away from him on the first day of school when you took it from him the first time.”

I can’t tell if her face is trying to pale or inflame.

“Mr. Harding, Rocco and I?—”

“While I understand that you are a guest teacher in this building, I expect you to take the role seriously. I certainly hope that your students are getting the assignment done while you and one of our repeat offenders play football in the hall. You are meant to be more than just a warm body in a classroom, Ms. Benson.”

With that, I push off on my toe and head toward the other end of the hall. Steam bellows from my ears and braids with my conversation from Don. My words to Claire may have been harsh, and mayhave been lingering from agitation, but in an administrative position, I cannotstandthe thought of these students receiving anything less than everything we have to offer them.

If I have to play the role of English teacher again, so be it. I won’t let Claire Benson and her flightiness run our students into the ground.

eight

claire

“How long areyou going to be this time?”

“I have the book on hold, so maybe like ten minutes?”

With her arms crossed over her chest, Zoey dips her chin and eyes me with annoyedskepticism.

“The last time you ‘had a book on hold,’ we were here for over an hour.”

I put the car in park, unbuckle, and grin at my little sister.

“This is literally my only me-time. Grin and bear it. For me? Please?”

I toss her a puppy dog pout for good measure, and though she groans and tosses her head back, shedoesmanage to get out of the car.

We walk through the library’s automatic double doors, and I pause just inside, close my eyes, and inhale. Books have always been my happy place. Since I taught myself to read at age three, I’ve always found solace in fictitious places. I lived at Hogwarts, disappeared into Narnia, and made friends with Junie B. as place holders for the real world I never really got to see.

Sure, I had school friends, but the second my parents saw me as a free third wheel to their caretaking, my social life was diminished tojust that: school relationships.Family comes firstlasted about until we found out that Michael was something of a soccer superstar. Until we discovered that Zoey was a cello prodigy with Einstein’s smarts. Then, suddenly, extracurricular activities were allowed—encouragedeven. Of course, it helped that I was getting my license around the time that my brother and sister needed rides to practices and games and events.

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