Page 61 of One More Chapter

I’ll send over that new game request in the mean time

*Anthony would like to play LET’S PUCK! with you*

Penelope

…really

Anthony

SHEESH, woman

It’s AIR HOCKEY

Get your mind out of the gutter

twenty-two

penelope

For the firsttime since we moved in together, I stayed up later than Ant. I only know this because my office is technically onhisside of the house, so I had to cross through the living room to get to my bedroom at three-o’clock this morning. He wasn’t half asleep on the couch with an old Red Sox game on, or that weird show where the New England guy goes fishing.

It would have taken me less time, had my wrist not been bound by a cast. But I wrote three new chapters after a week and a half of writer’s block. I’ll plead the fifth if anyone asks me where the inspiration for the shower scene between Finn and Delilah came from.

I have to stop using Ant as inspiration for my writing, but when the words simply don’t come until he does something—likemaking me—I have to take what I can get. Especially since this is the last deadline extension I’m being granted.Especiallywhen the fear that my writingisn’tgetting better with each book, that my readersdon’twant the next story, and that my publisher is going to drop me if I don’t start putting my face out there—or worse, force me to do some sort of book tour as part of my next contract—is a constant presence.

They call it “imposter syndrome.” I call it the monster in my closet.

My eyes forced themselves closed for the few hours before my alarm went off. I’ve never been more glad that Ant is an administrator, because it meant that he had to be out of the house early today for some meeting with Nathan and the other cross-building principals. I thought I’d get a minute of peace to myself, but then I found breakfast, a packed lunch, and a note left on the cork board I hung up on the garage door forhim,reminding me that he’ll be home late, but that there’s dinner in the fridge. Instead of peace, I got a mental smoothie of last night’s dirty and this morning’s sweetness to go along with my Frosted Flakes.

Luckily, the kids are absolute terrors today. If they were on task and focused and had their behavior in check, there would be time to daydream. After a conversation about the sheer amount of missing work and using class and study hall time wisely, I hop into the lesson.

“We’re going to start in chapter ten today.”

“Ten?” Ant asks while the kids start to take out and open their textbooks.

“Yes. Ten. Did you read the lesson plans I sent you?”

“I uh… Guess I didn’t get the chance to.”

He scratches the back of his neck, then flips his teacher manual to the back of the book while I start writing an example on the board.

“Why are we starting ten? They just finished two last week.”

“Because,” I say, continuing to write my notes forreflectionon the board, “geometry is our lowest test score every year. We don’t get to it until after state testing. We have some down time before Halloween, so I figured I’d slot a little of it in at a time to at least get them exposed.”

He doesn’t respond, and doesn’t add much to the lesson until second period, once he knows what we’re doing. By our prep hour, I pop a pill that’s half for the pain in my arm, and half for the headache.

“You okay?”

“Just a little frustrated,” I admit, rubbing my temples.

“What about?”

I tilt my head and toss him an impassive look.

“I write all of these lesson plans, with detailed little links to the online textbook, and you still have no idea what we’re doing.” His gaze turns stony, but I interject before he can speak. “I understand that you’re filling in as an administrator half the time. I just find it unfair that it cuts into the support I’m supposed to be getting with almost double the regular class size. They should either take you on in the office full time and give me more support, or find an outside person to fill in as the administrator. It isn’t your fault. It’s just a little draining.”

Ant sighs, then drops into his desk chair.

---