Page 36 of The Player Penalty
“You’re welcome, Julian,” she says, and I know Lily is considering what else to say, whether that’s denying her effort or insisting the bookmark isn’t well made.
Compliments make her uncomfortable while I’m desperate for one.
“If you have homework, stay here for it rather than go home.”
My pre-race confession lives between us, unspoken and unacknowledged. I wonder if we will ever talk about it or if we even need to.
Our relationship is between us, and Pete’s threats notwithstanding, there’s a ten-year age difference between us. I can’t forget that.
14-Lily
“Dr. Hughes?” I knock on the open door before entering.
“Lily, good to see you again.” She beckons towards the empty chair by her desk. “Do you have the letter?”
“In my hand.” The disability services office promised to send it over twice, but they still botched it. Privacy concerns require any request for information from me, and it proved harder to remember than it should. Typical of me. “I try not to take advantage.”
Dr. Hughes scans the form. “Extra times for test is more than reasonable. All of this is perfectly reasonable.”
They’re essentially the same accommodations from high school, which turned me into a successful student. With them in place, my final three years of high school were the first time I didn’t consider myself stupid.
An electronic sound from the other side of her office distracts me. A young girl sits in a lounge chair. She sways in the seat with a tablet in her lap.
“Beth’s babysitter called in sick today,” Dr. Hughes explains. “Office hours are typically quiet, so I brought her here rather than go home.”
I smile, appreciating the need for quiet. It’s the only way I can accomplish homework.
“Please don’t talk,” Beth says without looking up from her tablet.
“Beth is a student at Horizons Academy. Are you familiar with it?”
My ears perk at the name. “I went there for three years. It was amazing.” Catching Dr. Hughes’s reference, I pick up the headphones on her desk. “Would these be helpful?” I hand them to Beth, who puts them on.
“Lily, you realize part of the education degree requires hands-on training at a school, correct?”
“I thought that wasn’t until later.” It’s another dreaded internship. I bombed two interviews in the business program before giving up, and now I get to do it again. Not everyone is capable of selling themselves in ten minutes or less. Some of us panic and ramble before apologizing and over-explaining. I yank a lock of hair.
“That’s technically correct, yes.” Dr. Hughes’ patient smile relaxes me. Her bright red hair is different from Julian’s. His is dark enough to appear completely brown in the dimmer light, while Dr. Hughes’ is still shining, with a hint of brassiness in parts. I would think it came from a bottle if her daughter wasn’t such an obvious twin. She pulls her blue cardigan tighter and explains further. “Your schedule is empty on Fridays, and Horizons Academy is always desperate for help. Would you consider an early start?”
My eyes bulge. My first year of high school passed with teachers frustrated about my 504 and peers who found me eitherannoying or strange. The switch to Horizons Academy saved me in more than one way. “Is that possible?”
“It might be,” she says. “Let me make a quick phone call.”
∞∞∞
“As you can see, very little has changed since you were a student here,” says Ms. Lankford, the school principal. She had been a long-time staple when I first arrived and probably would be for several more years. “Several of your teachers are still here as well.”
“It’s exactly as I remembered it.” Soft lights in the hallway, with student art everywhere. Children’s voices waft out from closed doors, all happy and boisterous. “My best school years were spent here, you know.”
“I suspect that’s why Dr. Hughes suggested you.” Ms. Lankford comes to a stop in the hallway. “There’s a shortage of ESE teachers in this state. We’ve had more than a few start an internship and then resign halfway through due to frustration. With your experience, we hope this might be a great fit for us both. We have specials on Fridays rather than the regular curriculum for the younger grades. It’s more resource-intensive for staff, so we need additional help on those days.”
I could do that. It won’t interfere with school, and I can keep my promise to attend Julian’s races.
All that’s left is the interview. Surely, after so many mistakes, I’ve mastered those by now. This is a familiar place, and I’m finally pursuing a career that matters.
“I have no classes on Fridays, so that works perfectly.”
“Good, we’ll start with you in here. The art room is a mess by the end of every week. We can start there and see how it works out.”
