Page 21 of Teacher of the Year

“All right, with the number of children and adults and the size of our bus” – she bangs the side of the bus, causing a few of the children and Teddy’s mom to jump – “I need three kids or two adults to each seat,” she barks.

“Kids on first. Adults, wait here for just a minute,” Jill shouts.

I love it when she takes charge because it allows me to hang back for a bit. The two of us bring the children aboard and mostly let them sit wherever they like, three to a seat, as Darlene instructed. We leave three empty seats for the grown-ups, one in the back, one in the middle, and one in the front.

“Do you want the front or back?” I ask Jill as we seat the last children. We need to be on either end of the bus to monitor any issues.

“Front. I don’t want to get carsick.”

“Okay, fine, you grab the chaperones,” I reply and take my spot in the seat closest to the back.

Entering the bus, it’s clear Mrs. Schroeder, Teddy’s mom, and one of the moms from Jill’s class know each other from outside of school and plop down in the middle seat. The other mother from Jill’s class joins her in the front of the bus, leaving Olan to trot toward the back to ride with me. The mushy pit in my stomach gurgles with anticipation as he advances.

The drive to the farm only takes fifteen minutes but being smooshed with Olan Stone into a seat meant for children seems like a mischievous turn of events from the universe. As he approaches, I do my best to make room, plastering myself against the cold metal frame of the bus, my neck inches from the frosty window.

“I guess we’re bus buddies.” Olan flashes a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

He plops down, sending me up momentarily as I huddle near the ice-crystal-covered window. Illona, in the seat directly ahead of us, pops her head up to see her father.

“Daddy! Hi!” Her face beams.

“Hey, princess,” he says softly. His deep voice is only inches from my ear, and the hair on the nape of my neck stands up.

“All right, everyone, hands inside the bus, bottoms on seats, facing forward!” Darlene’s voice booms over the bus speakers, prompting Illona to spin herself back round to face the front. Olan leans forward and pats her on the back. Why is being such an attentive father so damn sexy?

The engine spits and pops, and we begin to roll toward the farm. Cocooned in our seat, Olan and I have a tiny semblance of privacy in the crowded school bus. Deep breaths.

“This your first time on a school bus in a while?” I ask.

“Probably since high school. It certainly seems more compact than I remember.”

“They’re not made for comfort, that’s for sure.”

“No, I think they’re designed to transport the largest number of occupants in the safest, most cost-effective manner.” He nods and scans the inside of the bus.

Olan Stone is a complete dork. A dashing dork. I’m doomed.

“I think you’re right.”

We drive over the bridge leading off the peninsula, taking us out of Portland and into more rural surrounding towns. Strip malls, full of pet and cell phone stores, gradually morph into a mixture of wooded areas and farms. Eventually, nature completely takes over with only the occasional gas station and convenience store. Being a smaller city, Portland never overwhelms me, but serenity and peacefulness wash over me whenever I’m somewhere you can see all the stars in the night sky.

“You mentioned you sold your business. What exactly do you do?”

With all the pleasantries Olan and I have exchanged, I know very little about him outside of his daughter. Welcome to the getting-to-know-you portion of our adventure.

“Well, I sold my aerospace company last year.”

“Aerospace, that’s like… outer space?” My cheeks rise, and I give a little shrug because I have no clue.

His face bunches up, then relaxes, and he chortles. He laughs so loud that Jill, sitting in the front, stops chatting with the parent from her room and whips her head around, eyes wide.

“Not exactly. More aircraft. Turbo engine technology. Although some spacecraft utilize the same tech. So, technically it could encompass outer space. It all depends on the application and classification of travel.”

As Olan speaks, my mouth becomes agape. Only slightly, but I rush to close it.

“That sounds, um, complicated.”

“Let me try to clarify it. Jet engines require air. Typically, a turbine powers an air compressor. The compressor rotates, and any leftover power supplies the thrust through a propelling nozzle. It’s called the Brayton thermodynamic cycle. It’s how jets can fly long distances and it’s the core principle behind proposed inter-solar-system space travel.”

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