Page 9 of Just a Heartbeat Away

“You got it.”

And then he was gone and Via walked home on her own.

HERFIRSTWEEKof school passed in a blur of new students and names and more paperwork than Via had thought humanly possible. When the dismissal bell rang on Friday, she flopped gratefully back into her swivel chair and eyed the ceiling of her office.

She felt like she’d just run a marathon. Three marathons. Back to back.

“Hey,” a voice spoke from the doorway of the office and Via looked up to see one of the first-grade teachers. Sadie Carroll. Young and pretty, she always looked very stylish. They’d sat next to each other at the staff meeting but hadn’t crossed paths the rest of the week. “You survive your first week?”

Via sat up. “Definesurvive.”

Sadie laughed. “Sounds about right. First year’s the hardest. Although, this is my third, and I’m still waiting for the easy part.”

Via nodded and started packing up her bag.

“So listen, some of us do this happy hour thing on Friday afternoons. Any chance you’d wanna join?”

Via’s heart leaped and she couldn’t help but feel like that middle school foster kid again. Equal parts eager and terrified at any invitation. She swallowed, keeping her seesaw of emotions off her face. “That sounds great.”

“Oh good!” Sadie clapped her ringed fingers together and shook back her chin-length red hair. “We just walk to that bar one avenue over, Cider. You know it?”

“Sure, it’s got the steel pumpkin on the sign.”

“Right. They keep a table for us on Fridays.”

“Do they have food? I was just considering gnawing off the corner of my desk.”

Sadie laughed, although Via had barely been making a joke. Former foster kids took snacks very seriously. “They’ve got a turkey sandwich that’ll get you face-to-face with your maker.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

Sadie laughed again. “Come and find out.”

“Can significant others join?” Via asked as she slung her bag over her shoulder and followed Sadie out of the office.

“Oh, you’ve got a person?”

Via nodded. “Evan.”

“Man Evan or woman Evan? If I can ask.”

“He’s a man.” Via cocked her head to one side, intrigued by the question.

“I thought I’d check because my girlfriend’s name is Rae, and everybody gets confused. Well, anyways, Evan is definitely invited. Everybody’s been so curious about you, I’m sure they’d love to meet your SO.”

Via ignored the way that piece of information made her stomach clench. She hated being the source of any gossip or in the spotlight. Her first few years in the foster system had been spent scrupulously attempting to camouflage herself in all possible ways. Drama of any kind meant getting shuffled into a different home, a different situation. After three different homes, Via learned that keeping her head down and blending in meant that she got to stay put. Even a decade and a half later, Via found herself shying away fromanythingthat might make her a target for drama or gossip.

But she told herself it was natural for her coworkers to be curious about the new girl. And it wasn’t like Evan was some salacious secret. He was her boyfriend of almost two years. It was normal—NORMAL!—that he’d meet her coworkers.

She and Sadie chatted on the walk over to the bar and Via realized that they were some of the last people to arrive. She and Sadie slid into the last two available seats. The bar was funky and dark. It had the typical Brooklyn gimmick to make it memorable and patently Instagramable. In this case, the gimmick was an entire wall filled with slowly creaking gears. Mumford & Sons played over the speakers and a waiter in an old-timey cap completed the look.

Via was mildly surprised to see who’d shown up. Sadie had saidhappy hour, and Via had automatically pictured all the younger members of the staff. But Shelly, the middle-aged librarian, was there; Becky, the older fifth-grade teacher; and Jim, one of the older fourth-grade teachers was there as well.

On Via’s other side was one of the second-grade teachers Via didn’t know very well.

“Cat Foster,” the woman reintroduced herself. She was probably midthirties, had some gray in her curly brown hair and wore a large, artsy wedding band on her left hand. “How was your first week?”

Almost everyone had asked that same question. “Good. Busy. Lots of things to get in order before I can run the position the way I want to, but, you know, good.”

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