Page 2 of Yes No Maybe

I love my students. I love their energy, honesty, and creativity. I love them for who they are, what they’ll be, and what they’re going through. I was them once—still am in most ways. If I can help, I will.

But this tests my love like never before.

My fingernails pinch the gooey-thin skin, and my breath holds. Gasps followewwwsand finally switch to applause as the pimple drains. Julio administers the paper towels, eyeing a speck on my green dress. I wipe it quickly, wondering if it’ll stain.

Eddie checks the mirror, sinking with relief. It looks better already. “Ah, Ms. Mackey, my hero. Thank you.”

Returning to the auditorium, I carry inexplicable nerves with me. Ginormous zits aside, something seems off tonight.

I reach my reserved seats in time to stop an unfamiliar woman directing her brood of middle schoolers into my row.

“Um, these seats are taken,” I say, though I shouldn’t have to. The six seats holding my scattered belongings should’ve been a clue. No one drapes her sweater, umbrella, teacher bag, purse, and annotated copy ofHeart of Darknessover multiple seats just to have a row to herself, not even an introvert like me.

Huffing, she escorts them away, and I resume my position in the inner seat against the right wall, my unease growing with the crowd.

The student-written, directed and produced play, aptly renamedTen Thingsas a nod to the nineties movie10 Things I Hate About You, was modest until tonight. The first performance filled half the auditorium—mostly parents and friends. The second drew slightly more students, perhaps curious how Shakespeare’sTaming of the Shrewmight be redone to feature a trans student and a school’s small LGBTQ+ community. With that show and students taking to social media, interest grew. Co-star Ashley Morrow’s father, Kent Morrow, a meteorologist from Channel Twelve, upped the exposure by mentioning it on the 11 o’clock news, calling it“A performance everyone should see.”

It seems people listened. I spot three school board members, two Channel Twelve anchors, and nearly all of Coastal High’s administration.

The kids deserve the attention. They’ve done an amazing job with the rewrite, keeping the humor and charm while adding present-day themes and language everyone understands.

Many good things have come from the project, despite my initial reluctance. When go-getter assistant principal Dr. Evelyn Tate assigned teachers a vagueInspiration Projectto enhance the curriculum and bolster student interest, I was peeved. Inspiring students is a daily endeavor—not a novel idea. Another truth about teaching is that I stillalwayshave a million things to do and don’t need more tacked on by ambitious administrators.

I glance up from the play’s program and see the woman herself—Dr. Evelyn—working the crowd like a classically trained schmoozer. Her dress is gorgeous, understated and elegant, even though it’s shimmery gold and matches her hair’s blond ribbons.How could she have that lying around for a show she hadn’t been interested in attending two days ago?My shoulders slump… I hate her a little. She’s annoyingly perfect, as if inspiring envy isherpersonal inspiration project.

Holding these five empty seats is about as much envy as I’ve ever inspired. Two couples nearby fixate on my object-clad seats like they might enact pirate rules and toss my things aside. One man makes eye contact, ready to ask the obvious question, but he notices my cheek and neck—people can’t help it—and decides against it.

Finally, Mira edges into my row, picking up objects as her family settles behind her. Her wife, Jane, and their adopted kids, Kenan, Izzy, Beth, and baby Aster, wrapped against Jane’s chest like a kangaroo pouch, look like a modern family showcased in a car safety commercial or Walmart ad. They’re exactly the chaotic, messy, beautiful family I want someday.

Well, except with a guy. And for the first time in years, I’m seeing someone who might be a contender—Dean.

“Dang girl,” Mira coos. “That dress isbanging.”

“If I’d known it was a fancy affair, I would’ve worn my pearls,” Jane laughs. “Ooh la la.”

I blush, glad they don’t see the pimple pus stain. “Thanks. It was Dean’s idea to dress up on the last night.”

My sister-in-law and real estate agent, Jane, hands me a keychain with the wordsBeach Bumin silver dangling with the single key. “The key to your little house. Kenan picked out the keychain.”

“It’s perfect.” I smile down the row at him while relieving Mira of my gear and tucking it under my seat. “But it’s too early for a keychain. I haven’t decided on the house yet.”

Jane waves her hand and purses her lips. “Girl, you’re buying that house, and the owner was fine with handing over the key for your final walkthrough after I told her how much you loved it.”

“You aren’t worried about Dean, are you? You should’ve told him you were house-hunting,” Mira says, as she has throughout the four-month process with Jane as my realtor. “His dark side’s sure to come out when he learns you’ve been keeping it from him.”

Mira believes everyone has a dark side.

“He doesn’t have a dark side,” I say dismissively. “And if my omission bothers him, I’ll fix it.”

She rolls her amber-hued eyes. “You can’t fix everything, Rowan. And why should you? Some things are meant to be broken.”

Well, I just fixed the Queen Mother of all zits, I want to argue but don’t. “Nothing will need to be fixed. He’s not… like that. Besides, he knows my lease is nearly up. He’s been swamped with rehearsals. I didn’t want to burden him or make things weird.”

“You buying a house shouldn’t be weird,” Mira says.

“Oh, right. Guysloveit when the girl they’ve been dating wants to look at houses together—that wouldneverscare him off. We’d only been dating a few months when I started looking… Who knew we’d make it to seven?”

“Nottogether, together. Just… together,” Mira clarifies, badly. “If he’s scared off by an independent woman, then you don’t want him. He’s too showy anyway.”

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