Page 25 of Mr. Broody

I walk into St. Pat’s, and the office tells me which classroom to go to. I’m there before any of the students arrive to hopefully get to know Mrs. McConnell a little more. Any information I can siphon off her before she starts her maternity leave will be useful.

When I reach the classroom, she’s sitting in an armchair in front of the window with a rug laid out in front of her. I imagine that must be where the kids sit when she’s reading to them. Her head is tilted back, and her eyes are closed.

I knock softly and her eyes pop open, and she inhales a few deep breaths.

“Hi. I’m Jade… Keebler.”

Her hands run down her belly. “Nice to meet you, Jade. And I’m sorry to do this to you, but I think I’m in labor.”

My eyes widen, and I stiffen. “Oh. Oh my gosh.” I look over my shoulder. “Should I get someone?”

“If you could get my cell phone out of my bag and hand it to me? I have an emergency plan in motion if it happens while I’m here.”

I rush over to her desk, finding her purse on top. It’s weird to go into a stranger’s bag, but I grab her phone and hand it to her.

“Now can you call the office on that phone right there and tell them that I need Principal Wheatley to drive me to the hospital, please?”

“Not an ambulance?” My forehead wrinkles.

She waves me off. “This is my third. I’m good.”

Okay then. Third baby, no ambulance. Got it.

Someone answers her call, and all she says is it’s time, see you there, and hangs up. This woman is a real pro apparently. And not at all freaked out that she’s about to push a baby out of her vagina.

I call the office, and when I tell them what’s going on, no one there sounds as though they’re in a panic. I mean, the lady is in labor. What the heck?

A couple minutes later, I hear footsteps in the hallway before three people storm through the door. It’s a bit of a whirlwind as they help her up from the chair and walk her toward the door.

“This is an exciting day,” Principal Wheatley says, laughing about the situation. “Congrats on your first day.”

I nod numbly. I think I’m going to throw up.

“My sub plans are in the top right drawer. Just follow those. I’ll touch base after she’s born,” Mrs. McConnell says over her shoulder as she’s helped out of the room. “And crap, the concert is tomorrow night. Just do your best. Talk to Mrs. Hassels, and she’ll explain how it goes. She’s great, you’ll have no problems.”

Then they’re gone.

I stand there stunned for a moment before a woman with curly blonde hair peeks into the room. “I’ll get your students into the room. Just get yourself situated. You’ll do great.” She gives me a thumbs-up.

I turn to stare at my new desk. These kids are getting the short end of the stick. I sit down at the desk, where I find everything meticulously organized. Sure enough, her binder full of plans is in the top right drawer. Thank goodness she’s a planner. So unlike me.

I’m not even going to ask the kids to refer to me the way they normally do their teachers. I’ll be introducing myself as Miss Jade. With a last name like Keebler, the cookie jokes would be endless if I asked kids this age to call me Miss Keebler.

I read over what she had planned for today and her instructions on how to use all the techno gadgets that weren’t here when I was in school. This is going to be a learning curve, but I’ve got this. I’ll be fine. As long as I keep telling myself it, maybe I’ll believe it.

I’m feeling a little calmer until I stand and walk between all the desks. Each one has a name written on laminated colored paper and taped to the top. The names are so cute these days. No Katies or Mikes or Billys. Even if they’re common names, they’re spelled differently. I stop when I read the one in the front row, third aisle.

Bodhi.

Well, there are a lot of Bodhis in the world. I’m sure it’s a coincidence. This is a city with millions of people.

“Who are you?”

I startle when the same voice I heard earlier this morning sounds from the doorway. I circle around to find a cute dark-haired boy with caramel-colored eyes. I guess in terms of students who attend St. Pat’s first grade, there’s only one Bodhi—Bodhi Hensley.

And just like that, my plan goes to shit.

Ten

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