Page 7 of Owen Bailey Needs Advice

“Another Annie remedy. You okay?”

“No remedy. Nothing to do with Annie. What if we stopped by the clinic? Maybe Coco would let us take Rosie and Tulip out for a ride.”

“Horses?” Miles says. “That’s new.”

“Geez, I just thought we could hang out.”

“Sure. We can. I’ve gotta go, though. I’ve got a class in progress.”

“You’re at the studio?” I ask. He doesn’t normally answer when he’s in the studio.

“Nah. Cinnamon and Walt can’t make it up the stairs. We’re in a garage.”

“Huh. We could figure out a ramp tonight,” I suggest. He isn’t wrong—I am getting more creative… each and every passing year. I can’t give Annie up, but that hasn’t stopped me from trying to distract my one-sided feelings.

“The stairs are too steep. I don’t think a ramp would work.” There’s chatter in the background. One of my brother’s students is speaking to him.

“I’ll let you go, but later?” I ask, needing Miles to just go along with me. Come on, bro.

“Yeah. Come over after school. I’ll practice teaching you dry brushing before I teach my class tomorrow.”

Perfect. I can’t afford mud and tape just yet anyway.

I’m halfway through sixth period when Annie’s name lights up my phone with a text. I don’t check my phone. Not when teaching. Not normally. And while Annie and I talk daily—we’ve been friends forever—I don’t even answerhermessages during the school day. But she’s got me rattled with this James stuff. Plus, the theory that she’s a fraud. Annie is the most true person I know. And then there’s the fact that she about burst into laughter when Grammy implied that we might be thinking about starting something up. Why is that so funny? Why can’t I be the one to prove to Annie that she isn’t a fraud when it comes to all her advice on love?

“Mr. Bailey?” Sam says. The kid tries to sit in the back row every day. Though there aren’t assigned seats in this class, I make him change it up every now and then. Today, I’ve forced him into the front row. “Are we still in chapter two?”

“Ah—yep. We’re reading silently. Chapter two, sections three and four.”

Rylee, who happens to love the front row, raises her hand but speaks out before I can call on her. “But Mr. Bailey, you said we’d read all of chapter two aloud and check for understanding along the way.”

“Right.” I nod and tap on my phone once. But the banner with Annie’s text has disappeared. “Read with your shoulder partner.Aloud. And if you have questions, ask.”

The class sits quietly, looking from one to the other. It’s the beginning of the year, they shouldn’t be set in their ways with me yet. Just because I’ve done something the same way three weeks in a row doesn’t mean I can’t change it up.

“Let’s go,” I say, full teacher tone, and clap once.

There’s a humming of chatter amongst the kids, and I plop down in my swivel chair—the one that should have been retiredfive years ago, but the district can’t afford new chairs and I’m the new guy. Second-year teacher equals a crap chair.

I swivel toward my desk. Then, I flip my laptop open, like I’m one of these thirteen-year-old kids, and sneak my phone onto the keyboard, shielded by the screen of my computer.

I bring my phone to life and click on messages.

Annie: Maybe I should give Buttman another chance. Maybe I jumped the gun.

My heart patters with nervous energy at the thought of Annie getting back with that guy. He may work for my sister, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him.

Me: You know that isn’t what you want to do.

Annie: I got this question today, O… it’s making me wonder.

Me: Then toss it. If it’s making you question yourself, get rid of it. You don’t need to question what you already know.

Annie: OWEN. You know I answer them all. ALL.

Me: Maybe this one got lost in the mail. It was never delivered.

Annie: It’s an email.

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