Page 82 of Roommate's Guide to Love

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quinn

I’m not usuallya nervous person. When you have a suit of armor made from one-hundred-percent, fake-it-till-you-make-it, Teflon, it allows you to walk into any situation with false hope and a brush-it-off attitude if things don’t go well.

Yet, I’m oddly nervous about what I’m about to walk into with this Zoom call.

For one, is it really my students? I’m trusting it is based on the knowledge of the Bruh Jar, but maybe one of the parents knows about it and is tricking me? Maybe this is the P.E.N.I.S. Posse setting me up to having communication with the students, which many would deem inappropriate. Then again, I’m not their teacher anymore, so is it? And it’s not like I’m texting them every day or sharing memes.

And really, part of me hopes this really is them. I want to properly say goodbye and tell them what happened. And for all I know, this is them being savvy and demanding the farewell I never gave them. Which, honestly, they deserve that much. And if I piss off a few parents in doing it, well, that’s very on brand for me.

I check the baby monitor to make sure that Grace is still napping, and yup, my girl is out. It was really convenient that the Zoom call that I have no control over happens to coincide with her sleep schedule. And since she was up half the night crying, I knew she’d nap good today.

When she sleeps, baby girl sleeps.

I check the time to see that it’s promptly three o’clock and I click on the link. Again, smart? No. But if I started making smart decisions now, then who would I be as a person?

I expect a blank screen—if I learned anything from pandemic teaching it’s that students conveniently don’t know how to work technology when you need them to. But to my surprise, not only am I the last one to seemingly arrive, but there are rows and rows of my former students.

All with their cameras on.

And every one of them is holding a sign with a heart on it.

“What are y’all doing?”

I don’t even try to fight the battle of keeping my tears back.

“We’re having our first meeting of the Quinn’s Crew Book Club.”

That statement comes from Axel, who I had a feeling was behind this. “What?”

“Hold up.” This comes from Antonio. I laugh through my tears, because of course he’s going to be the one to challenge anything. “We’ve got a few things to discuss, bruh.”

I wipe away my tears. “I’d tell you to put money in the jar, but I can’t anymore.”

“And that’s why we needed to talk with you,” he says. “Is it true? Did you quit?”

I nod, but I know I need to clear up a few things first. “I’ll tell you my side of the story, but first I need to know how many of your parents are okay with y’all being here?”

Everyone but Makayla raises her hand, which tracks since her mom is the reason I’m sitting in Rolling Hills right now. It’s also at that moment that Daniella’s mom pops onto the screen.

“Hi, Miss Banks!” I wave back to her, but I’m too in awe to say anything. I think these kids thought of everything. “Just wanted to let you know that all of their parents gave permission, and I told them I’d be around just in case. And well, Makayla…”

“My mom is at her weekly facial. I’ve got two hours.”

I know I shouldn’t be laughing, but Makayla’s rebellion right now is giving me life. “All right then, here’s the story.”

For the next twenty minutes, I’m brutally honest with my kids. A little too much? Probably. They might be barely teenagers, and they’re still figuring out the world, but that doesn’t mean that I should sugarcoat what happened. They deserve to know the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me Dolly Parton.

“Damn,” Antonio says after I’ve concluded. I probably should reprimand his language, but he’s not wrong.

“And I need to say how sorry I am to each and every one of you.” I take a deep breath, ready to say what I’ve wanted to tell them for weeks now. “I didn’t want to leave like that. I wanted to come tell you all goodbye. I wanted to spend the Bruh Jar money on an epic last day party. I wanted to readThe Westing Gamewith you. But I let my emotions get carried away, and I had to leave. And you didn’t deserve that. It probably felt like I abandoned you, and I did. And I’ll never be able to fully apologize for that. But please know, I’ve been thinking about y’all every day. And I hope that one day you realize that what I did was because I love each and every one of you, and you deserve better, and this was my way of telling people that.”

I was hoping for a chorus of “It’s okay Miss Banks” or maybe even a round of applause.

But what I wasn’t expecting was a bunch of snickers.

“What? I just poured my heart out! Why are y’all laughing?”

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