Page 8 of The ABCs of You & Me

I’d have called you that every day if you’d been in my life. “Guess I’ll have to make up for it.”

“Go bananas,” she says, unlocking her office and beckoning me to follow. “I forgot my fu– ugh, my lunch in the car.” She looks apologetic. “I’ve really gotta get my language under control, sorry.”

“It’s okay. There are people who have been working here for years who still struggle. I’ve gone in the opposite direction.”

“What’s the opposite direction?” she asks, setting her bag down on her chair and turning to face me.

“Instead of saying the f word, I say something like…” I can’t even say it now in the presence of an adult, as if my tongue has its very own censor. I don’t plan what I say, so it takes me a minute to recall something that has escaped my mouth recently. The first thing I thought when I saw Sophie immediately pops into my head. “Holy moose muffins.”

“‘Holy moose muffins’? Are those muffins for moose or muffins made from moose?” she inquires.

“You know what, I’ve never thought that deeply about it, and surprisingly not a single one of my students has ever asked. Speaking of students.” I sigh, glancing at my watch. “I’ve gotta get out to them. I’ll see you later.”

Sophie offers a small wave, and it’s not until I’m walking outside that I realize I’m still carrying the tin.

“Mr. Walsh!” Pete happily calls the minute he’s got himself balanced on his crutches. Despite the challenges that come with cerebral palsy, he’s always got a smile on his face, a go-getter attitude, and way too much stuff in his pockets, which I can see are already bulging with today’s treasures.

“Pete McGee!” I hold my fist out, and his much smaller one connects softly with it as he balances on one crutch. “What did you get up to last night?” I ask as we make our way into the school.

“I had a swimming lesson and then we got pizza.”

“What did you get on your pizza?”

“Pepperoni and green olives,” he says, looking up at me with a sly smile. He knows he’s going to get a reaction out of me.

“Eeeeeewwwww,” I whine. “Green olives are the worst green things.”

“Worse than brussels sprouts?”

“A zillion billion times worse.”

“Agree to disagree, Mr. W.” He shrugs. “What did you do last night?”

“I had a swimming lesson too,” I say, enjoying the shock on his face. He doesn’t need to know that I was swimming through the dating pool.

“But you’re old!”

“Hey now, I’m only twenty-eight. To some that’s very young.”

“But you’re too old to learn how to swim.”

“Not true. You’re never too old to learn new things.”

“Mr. Walsh, did you really have a swimming lesson?” Pete asks as he slides into his chair and begins to empty the contents of his pockets onto the desk. A few hockey trading cards, three game dice, some crumbled stickers, stegosaurus and triceratops figurines, and six individually wrapped LifeSavers. Less than I expected.

“Nah, I stayed home and baked cookies.” I hold up the tin, dragging my eyes away from today’s collection of pocket treasures.

“Are they for the class?”

“They’re for Miss Hore, the new social worker.”

“Why?”

“Because she did something nice for me yesterday so I made them as a thank-you.”

“If I do something nice for you, will you make me cookies?”

“If I can find a good recipe for egg-, flour-, and butter-free cookies, I will definitely make you some.”

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