Page 45 of The ABCs of You & Me

Sophie opens the front door, leaning against it stiffly. “I’ll be sure to reach out if I’m having trouble deciding.” The storm clouds from earlier are still too dark for my liking, but I keep that to myself. I’m not going to force her to open up to me, standing in her doorway while her mom makes “I’m not listening” noises in the kitchen.

“Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Hore,” I call, stepping across the threshold. I hear the door click shut before I even have a chance to offer Sophie one final wave.

On the drive home, I replay the entire day, but the minute I get to dinner it’s as if there’s a glitch and I keep saying the same thing that called the storm into the room. No matter how badly I want to take those words back, I can’t.

Gary greets me noisily when I walk into my apartment, and after feeding him I sink into the couch with a frustrated groan, feeling like an absolute buffoon.

Monday and Tuesday drag, a fact that is exacerbated by the fact Sophie hasn’t reached out. The simple laughing emoji taunts me from her last message. A cruel little reminder that I got way out in front of my skis by saying anything about the gala in front of her mom.

“Mr. Walsh?” Pete shouts next to me, causing me to juggle my phone wildly and thankfully catch it before it hits the floor. “Do you think Miss Hore will like this?” He holds up the watercolor he’s been working on since the start of class.

It looks like a painting someone would have done if they were tripping on acid. Saturated non-mushroom colors jump from the page.Happy shrooms, I think.

“I think she’ll love that, bud.” And I mean it. Sophie will be adding that to her tiny office cork board that already has an impressive number of student artwork. She’ll light up the school with her smile when he hands it over. “Did you pick mushrooms because of her shirt?”

Pete nods, blushing. “Also, I love mushrooms.”

”You’ve mentioned that once or twice.” Pete is the only kid I know who regularly brings whole button mushrooms in his lunch.

“Mr. Walsh?” he asks again.

“Mmm?”

“Why are you so sad?”

Shiitake, I must look about as awesome as I feel right now. “I…” I stop and try to figure out what I’m going to say. I can’t tell him the truth but I can’t tell him nothing. “Had a busy weekend. I’m tired.”

His left eyebrow raises skeptically and his eyes shift down to my phone. “Who is Sunshine?” He points with his brush.

“Are you being nosy?” I question.

“It’s your fault for having your phone out in class,” he counters.

“Fair.” I slip the phone into my back pocket and lean back in the chair with a sigh. “Just a friend.”

“Is that why you’re sad? Did you have a fight?”

No, even if it feels like we did. “I never fight,” I say with a tight smile.

“Not like this.” Pete punches the air with both fists. “A feelings fight.”

“A feelings fight?” I repeat slowly, and he nods. “No fight with fists, feelings, or fungi,” I assure him.

“Mr. Walsh?”

“You know you don’t have to keep saying my name if I’m the only one you’re talking to, right?” I tease.

“Mr. Walsh?” he says seriously.

“Yes, Pete?”

“What is your favorite mushroom?”

I’m relieved he has moved onto favorites. This is one of the things I love most about working with Pete. The kid loves to discuss favorite and least favorite things, and I’ve been surprised to learn a thing or two about myself in the process.

“Enoki,” I say without hesitation.

He scrunches up his face, his upper lip curling slightly. “Enoki? Did you make that up?”

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