Page 24 of Please, Sir

“I mean, does everyone really think I just got my job because I’m friends with Leah? Because that’s literally insane.”

Denae stabs a baby tomato with her fork, but the friction proves too much and it slides in the dish, popping up, flying through the air. I swear I don’t have to look when I hear it plunk-land. The sound is the unique music of yogurt splattering against a table.

Slowly, Denae peers around me and I turn my head to see Cadence’s face marked in a splash of white yogurt, the baby tomato sitting on the surface.

She twists her head, glaring at me with so much misery and hate in her expression that I panic.

“It was an accident,” I blurt out. “She didn’t mean to,” I continue. “Plastic fork, slippery vegetable. Well, slippery fruit, because a tomato is a fruit, you know? Of course you know. You’re a teacher. Anyway, that was an unfortunate accident.”

“I’m sorry,” Denae adds quietly.

Cadence gets to her feet, yogurt sliding down her forehead. Coming to stand over me, she turns her yogurt upside down, and cold plops of sweet dairy dribble onto my head, down my face and all over my nice clothes. “Oops,” she says, smirking, before dropping the yogurt cup onto my head. “Quick, run and tell Leah.” The plastic cup topples to the floor as she leaves the breakroom. I’m sure she’s beelining for the bathroom to fix her face, and as much as I want to follow after her, I don’t.

I glance around the breakroom, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Denae loops her arm through mine, and we take a detour through the science building to get to Leah’s office. After I’ve changed out of my clothes into a spare set of PE loaners, I flop down in front of Leah’s desk with Denae at my side.

“Care to share why you needed to use my office as a dressing room and why you’re wearing high school gym clothes at noon on Tuesday?” Leah asks as she returns to her office, after collecting her makeup bag from the car.

I dig through her stuff, looking for mascara and lipgloss. Once I find them, I get to work fixing what the yogurt fucked up.

“Cadence was talking shit in the break room,” I start, but Leah cuts me off, prodding the heap of messy clothes on her desk with the tip of a pencil.

“Why were you wearing a skirt and blouse anyway?” she asks, her face scrunched up with disgust, and I honestly think it’s over the shock that I was wearing those clothes, and not the fact that yogurt coats them.

I swipe almost black mascara over my bottom lashes. “Because everyone here hates me and I was trying to fit in.” Another few swipes and I close up the tube, dropping it back into the small silver bag. “I thought they either hate mebecause I’m friends with you,” I tell her, uncapping the lip gloss. “Or because I dress too coachy all the time. Either way, today was my attempt to rectify those issues.” I roll it on then rub my lips together before re-capping. “But then Cadence dumped yogurt on my head and, well, I’m pretty sure everyone in that break room likes me even less than before.”

Denae gets up, scooping the clothes off the desk to salvage the manila folder beneath it. “Let me just find you a bag for these,” she says, slipping out of the office for a moment.

“So you wore that and then what? Asked Cadence Caine to swap yearbooks and she dumped a Yoplait in your hair?” Leah asks, a smirk twitching her lips. There’s a benefit to having your best friend be much older than you. She knows when it’s time to sweat things, and if she’s not sweating a mini food-fight in the breakroom, then neither am I.

“Noo,” I defend. “I wore this and then decided to eat lunch in the breakroom to try and make friends. You know, friends that aren’t you,” I tease, letting out a long sigh as I melt into the chair. “It’s been a shitty week. This just made it shittier.”

“What else is going on?” Leah asks, opening her drawer to pull out a king size Snickers bar. “You want?”

I roll my eyes. “Uh no, put it back. I’d rather not have a king size Snickers.” I reach across the desk and snatch it from her, unwrapping it immediately. The first bite is heaven as I sink back into the chair. “Okay, this helps.”

She slides her readers on as she opens her laptop. I love how she’s always busy but always makes time for me, even when I’m probably annoying. I’d never tell her this because it would do a mind fuck on her but… I wish my mom were more like Leah.

“So, what else made the week shitty, pre-Snickers of course?”

I sigh. “Jo Jo Turner is still upset with me. I like Jo Jo so much. I see so much of myself in her, and I just want her to be happy. I thought pulling her up to JV was good for both Cadence and Jo Jo, since Cadence has no way to help Jo Jo flourish, and because Jo Jo has so much to offer. But I guess the younger girls got jealous and her non-cheer friends don’t like that she does cheer and–” I let out a sigh. “I don’t know why I care so much about this girl. But I do.”

Leah shrugs. “Sometimes they get under your skin. I’ve had a few like that over the years.”

I nod. “Well, the thing with Jo Jo isn’t all.” I swallow hard and take another huge bite of Snickers, prolonging the inevitable. Leah types for a moment then slides her eyes to meet mine. “What else?”

I look down at my blue shorts, the words PROPERTY OF BLUEBELL HIGH stenciled on in bright yellow paint. “Just thinking of that awful call with my parents Sunday morning.”

Leah’s laptop clicks as she pushes it closed, sliding off her glasses to give me her full attention. “Share?”

I lift the half eaten monster sized Snickers to show her how that phone call went, and how it’s been going since. Leah nods. “Still, tell me about it.”

I take a deep breath in and launch into a condensed version, because my fifty-three minutes of midday freedom are almost up. “They’re friendly with Michael, Brian and Linda. And they asked me if I’d be open to taking a call from Michael to, and I quote,end all of this,” I tell her, using my fingers to put quotes around my mother’s callous words.

“They’re still deep in the gaslighting phase, aren’t they,” she surmises aloud, shaking her head.

“They act like I am making up what Michael did. But he’s admitted it! He apologized to them for it and they acceptedand now my mom has completely and utterly rewritten history. Michael has never done anything wrong and now it’s me, I’m the problem, I’m the person throwing a wrench into their perfect country club lifestyle. It’s insane. It’s absolutely insane and I swear to God, Leah, if I ever have children, I will listen to every single thing my child tells me. I will hear them and honor their vulnerability with belief and action.” At some point, tears flooded my eyes because now they stream down my cheeks, hot and wide.

Leah gives me a sad, conciliatory smile when she quietly says, “Fuck ‘em.”

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