Page 9 of Choosing Forever
The little boy who comes storming my way first has the energy of someone who’s chugged a pot of coffee before leaving his house this morning. I don’t allow myself to flinch back the way I want to and instead offer my hand for him to shake.
“Hi! I’m Ms. Delaney. Or Ms. Dell, whichever you want to call me. What’s your name?”
“Zachary! My mom’s outside. Can I sit anywhere?”
“It’s nice to meet you, Zachary. Do you go by Zach for short?”
He pushes his blond hair back dramatically, grinning. “My friends call me Zach.”
“Well, I hope to be your friend by the end of the school year. For now, you can find your desk down this first row here,” I say, pointing to my left.
I was here for hours, writing out names on makeshift tags and sticking them onto the desks. If I hadn’t been moved from my original classroom, there would be no need for this quick effort because all their names would be stuck nice and pretty to their desks with custom tags.
Again, it’s fine.
“Okay!” Zachary runs down the aisle, searching for his name.
The next few students who arrive are followed by their parents, and with every hand I shake and person I greet, I pray they can’t tell how sweaty my palms are. I glance up at the clock above the door and pluck at the top button of my blouse, debating going to the window and opening it so I can cool down.
In a town as small as Cherry Peak, the wholeeveryone knows everyonesaying is completely true. It’s the worst part about living here. Nearly every set of parents I speak to, I alreadyknow. Apart from the families living in the surrounding municipalities—mainly ranches—it’s impossible to meet anyone new here.
It’s not necessary for every student’s parent to come and meet me on the first day, but plenty do regardless. I think it gives them some peace of mind. A reminder that the person they’re putting in charge of their children’s well-being for eight hours in the day is someone they know outside of these walls.
That’s why once I’ve checked off every student’s name but one, I feel a hot flush of anger course through me. The little girl I’ve been dreading seeing over the last week is the only one not here yet, and I know better than anyone to put that blame on her father.
If he wanted to make a fool out of me again, he didn’t have to involve his daughter. All he’d have to do is bring Sasha with him to my classroom, and if that were the case, they’d have been the first ones here. Darren’s had a habit of not watching the clock for the majority of his life.
The chatter in the room is nothing but static in my ears as I adjust the waistband of my skirt and swallow the bile clawing up my throat.
I tell myself that I’ll give them one more minute. Anything longer than that and they’ll miss the first bell. God, I don’t know if this is the usual for them or an anomaly. I’ve never stayed in the hallway this late to see because I didn’t want to risk seeing them. All I have to go on is what I knew ten years ago.
For the last eight of those years, this is how I’ve lived my life. Never lingering anywhere, whether that’s the grocery store or the sidewalks downtown. If there’s a chance of seeing Darren or Abbie, I’m rushing through my tasks with my head down. I haven’t been lucky every time, but at least he seems to want to avoid me as much as I want to avoid him.
That’s the thing about heartbreak in a small town. There’s nowhere to hide from the person who broke you.
“Alright,” I start, turning to face the class. Screw Darren andhis mind games. “Please make sure you’ve all found your assigned seats, and if you need any help?—”
The sound of shoes clapping against the floor in the hallway shuts me up. I snap my head in the direction of the noise.
The little girl who pops up in the doorway grins wide while trying to catch her breath. “Hi! I’m Abbie!”
It’s nearly impossible to school my features in a way that I trust hides the devastation I feel at the cheery, high-pitched voice. I swallow, pressing a hand against my middle and hoping it looks like I’m brushing off my blouse instead of like I’m trying to hold my guts from spilling out through reopened wounds.
Abbie’s just as beautiful as she was when I saw her last. Her hazel hair is up in two braided pigtails, and her excited brown eyes . . . I avoid looking at them for longer than a second. There’s no backpack with her, and her pretty yellow dress isn’t smothered with a jacket, so she must have found her locker well enough. But once I force myself to look up and behind her, it’s made clear that she’s alone.
My hand falls to my side when I force a smile. “Hi, Abbie. I’m Ms. Delaney.”
“Or Ms. Dell!” Zach shouts.
I release a breath. “Yes, or Ms. Dell.”
“I’m sorry for being late. Am I in trouble?” she asks plainly, eyes held on me.
Lifting a hand, I point at the last empty desk. Hopefully, the shakiness isn’t obvious to anyone but me. “No. No, you’re not in trouble. The bell is about to ring, though, so if you can take the empty seat behind Rosie, we’ll wait for it before taking attendance.”
When I was going through my student list, I’m ashamed to admit that I debated putting Abbie at the back of the class. It would have been completely selfish and pitiful, but for one second, I did consider it. If only to create more distance between us.
She’s not to blame for the past, though. And putting her atthe back of the classroom wouldn’t do anything but punish her. That’s not who I am. Regardless of my past with her father, Abbie’s innocent.
