Page 104 of Home Field Advantage
“You did? Oh, Sage. That’s so sweet.”
I extend my hand over my desk, and she hands me the colorful drawing before hiding her hands behind her back and swaying in anticipation for me to see. When I look down, my heart practically stops beating. It’s a picture of stick figure people, with two houses on each side of them. A colorful sun is drawn in the corner, with mountains perched in the background. But it’s not any of that forcing me to pause. There are three adults in the picture and a small child—I can tell by the height difference that she’s created.
In messy and backward letter handwriting reads:
Mommy. Sage. Daddy. Poppy.
Poppy.
A family portrait.
Sage drew me into a family picture in Bluestone Lakes, and my heart doesn’t know what to make of it. It’s beating so hard in my chest that it feels like it will pound right through the skin. There’s a part of me throwing up all sorts of alarm bells that this is bad…very bad. It means I’ve crossed a line with one of my students’ parents and allowed myself to get too close.
I’m her teacher. That’s where it’s supposed to end.
But my brain sees so much more. A child’s drawing that feels like an open door I want to look through. Guilt hits me in theface as I wonder what it would be like if this were my family. One that she wants me to be a part of.
This should feel wrong, but it doesn’t.
And that’s what scares me the most.
“Do you like it?” Sage asks innocently.
“I love it,” I choke out. “I think this will be one I take home with me.”
“Yeah?” Her eyes light up. “Are you going to put it on your fridge?”
I nod. “I have a special place for it.”
“I love that,” she says before skipping off to join her friends at a station.
I can’t lie to Sage, and while I’m only stretching the truth, I can’t have this in my classroom. I don’t want other teachers or a parent of another student to get the wrong idea or think I play favorites after reading too much into this picture.
That’s when reality strikes.
I force myself to pause, waiting for the sounds to come—the voice in my head screaming. But it doesn’t. It’s quiet now. There’s a dull murmur, but it’s low enough that I can take a step over it. It’s mildly disorienting, like stepping onto solid ground after being on a rocking boat.
Lifting my eyes, I watch Sage playing with the other kids. My mind shifts to her dad. I won’t say he saved me. That’s too dramatic and would be a lie. But I can’t deny the truth either. Since he’s come to town and into my life, something has shifted. Dallas doesn’t fight my chaos; he welcomes it. He hasn’t pushed me away, even knowing all the darker parts of me.
And reality strikes meagain.
Dallas Westbrook hasn’t pushed me away. I told him everything—from having obsessive-compulsive disorder to being a virgin—and he hasn’t ghosted me. Instead, he invited me over for a movie night with Sage. He didn’t try anything, but he didn’t need to. His eyes were on me the entire movie, the kisswhen I showed up at the back door, and then again when I left, tells me everything I need to know.
I used to believe I would live my life tense, controlled, and tired.
But I’m starting to wonder if I’m now allowed to be more.
Not because he made me feel like more.
Because being with Dallas has helped me see that I already was.
The bell signaling the end of the period rings, pulling me from any more thoughts. Rachel comes in moments later because our next period is outside recess, which ends the school day.
“Do you mind taking the kids today?” I ask her.
“Of course.”
“I didn’t get a chance to finish cleaning up, and I’d like to get things together so we can get out of here on time today.”
