Page 4 of The ABCs of You & Me

FOSTER

Holy moose muffins, Sophie Hore is working at my school.

When I saw her standing in the door, it was like someone erased my brain. I looked back down at Pete’s work and did my best to return to explaining the assignment. When I looked back up and found those blue eyes on me, it hit me that this was a real thing that was happening.

All through lunch with her I tried to play it cool. I can still remember when I got home from camp when I was sixteen and she was fifteen. It was like seeing her for the first time.

She’d been sitting on the front porch with my sister, both freshly back from a horse show, decked out in their fancy riding stuff. While I’d seen her in that stuff many times before, suddenly I saw someone else. When she smiled up at me and said hi, it was like I’d been shot up with adrenaline. I’d practically run into the house and hid in my room for the rest of the day.

The day I’d left for camp, Sophie had been eating cereal at the kitchen table. Hair askew, wearing an old band T-shirt and sweatpants, she was the girl who had spent more time at my house than her own. It was like being away for a few weeks had reset my brain.

She’d wiped my memory clean at lunch too, apparently. If Principal Wong hadn’t come in, I’d still be in there, happily chatting with her, getting lost in her smile and how it tilts a bit higher on the right side. How I made it through lunch without spilling on myself or choking on my food is beyond me.

I can almost sense the scream before it comes. I was already turning in the right direction. I don’t know what the issue will be—it could be an overdramatic kid upset that they slipped and fell, or it could be much worse and involve blood. With my luck, it’ll be the latter, because it’s always blood when I’m on duty. I see Emily Vanderhelm running over to me, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m about to feel lightheaded.

“Mr. Walsh! Mr. Walsh!” she pants, nearly sliding into me on the slick ground as her legs slow. “Christina J fell into a tree!” She’s off before “tree” is out of her mouth, and I follow quickly.

She fellintoa tree? When I round the corner I can see the tree in question, Christina J on the ground next to it with several girls crouched around her.

“Okay, everyone back up a bit, give her some room,” I coax, kneeling on the cold ground. “Christina, can you sit up?” She nods and slowly sits up, and great gorilla goulash, it takes everything in me not to puke then face-plant right into it. The entire left side of her face is scraped up.

The kids behind me gasp, a couple releasing hushed expletives I don’t have the mental capacity to reprimand them for. Christina’s eyes go wide, filling with tears. “Is it really bad?” she whimpers, her lips quivering.

I swallow, desperately trying to school my face. “It’s going to be fine,” I say as calmly as possible, even if “fine” comes out a bit squeakier than I like. “Emily, can you help me get her to the office, please?” I look around, trying to recognize another face. “Becca, can you go let Principal Wong know I’ve taken Christina in?”

Emily and I get Christina inside as fast as possible, and once our designated first aid person is with her I excuse myself. I walk on unsteady legs toward my classroom, staying close to the wall in case I need to slide down it. Before I reach the room, someone grabs my arm and helps guide me the rest of the way. Once I’m sitting, things start to clear, and I see long legs, a fitted button-up, and then worried bright blue eyes behind glasses.

“I’m guessing there was blood.”

I nod. “As I knew there would be.”

“You didn’t faint, though,” Sophie says encouragingly.

“Small victories.” I raise a fist in a half-hearted celebration.

“Have you always had this reaction to blood? I don’t remember this when we were kids.”

“I’ve never liked it, but it’s gotten worse as I’ve gotten older. I’m fine with my own. It’s the sight of others that does this”—I gesture at my face—“to me. Did you know kids bleed a lot?” I laugh warily.

“I did know that, and experienced it a time or two myself.” She laughs, and I close my eyes, focusing on the lightness of it, feeling myself calm even more. “Where is the contraband?” she asks, and I point toward the coat closet at the back of the room. If my eyes fall to her ass for a split second as she walks over to it, it’s not my fault—it’s currently at eye level. Not allowing them to linger there feels like a monumental victory.

She comes back with a packet of gummies and a KitKat. “Do you raid the Halloween sales on November first?” She holds up the options, and I nod toward the gummies, then watch as she opens them for me. I’m mesmerized by her long fingers and trimmed bare nails. What would they feel like scratching down my back? Digging into my skin?

“I’m not feeding them to you, Foster,” she chastises, and I realize that she’s waiting for me to take the packet from her while I’ve been fantasizing about her hands.

“Sorry,” I mumble, shaking my head and reaching for the pack, then dumping all the gummies directly into my mouth. “Thanks.”

“Seems like a crappy phobia to have when you work with kids,” Sophie says, pulling out a chair and sitting across from me.

My teeth are practically glued together so I nod in agreement.

“Have you thought about seeking some kind of therapy?”

I shrug in response. I have, but I also figured working with kids would be like immersion therapy and the issue would resolve itself. Just as I unstick my teeth the bell rings, and I panic. I can’t let the kids see the candy wrapper.

Sophie holds her hand out. “I’ll destroy the evidence. You go work on getting it out of your teeth.”

I head to the mirror that hangs in the coat closet and do my best to remove every bit of gummy from between my teeth. Maybe not the best choice for secret sweets. As I’m finishing up, the kids start filing in, and I catch sight of Sophie’s ponytail as she disappears out the door. I’ll have to thank her after school.

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