I Want It That Way

CHAPTER SEVEN

Monday started strong.

When the professor called on me in my first class, I knew the answer and avoided his caustic wit. If you weren’t on point, Lynch was known for saying things like, “So you want to teach yet you can’t be bothered to prepare for my class. In five years, I hope you’re blessed with students exactly like you.” The rest of the day went just as well.

I grabbed a sandwich at a convenience store on the way to Rainbow Academy and ate it in the car. Guilt flared when I remembered what Ms. Parker had said about taking care of myself. So far, I was doing a top-notch job.

At the day-care center, I parked in my usual spot and ran in. The director waved. “I need you in Mrs. Trent’s room. Her assistant called in sick.”

“Got it.”

“Nadia...I was wondering if you’d be interested in a permanent classroom assignment? This is the fourth time Elaine has called off in two weeks. I don’t think she’s going to work out.”

“You’d put me in Mrs. Trent’s room?”

Mrs. Keller nodded. “It’s a good placement. Four-year-olds aren’t as trying as the twos.”

“Could I still work a flexible schedule?” I hesitated, wondering how Ty would feel about me spending that much time with Sam.

“Sure. Instead of hiring a full-time assistant to replace Elaine, I’ll advertise for a floater to cover the hours when you aren’t around.”

And two part-timers meant she didn’t have to pay benefits. But I couldn’t blame her for cutting costs where she could. Times were tough.

“Okay, sign me up.”

“Excellent. I’ll have a couple of things for you to sign when you finish up today.”

Because certain ratios had to be observed—for four-year-olds, it was 12:1, children to adult—they had the assistant director, Jan Greenly, in the classroom with Mrs. Trent. The kids were doing free play, a short period after lunch, which I’d just missed, and Mrs. Trent was tidying up the room. Miss Greenly looked relieved when I showed up, and she hurried to her office without looking back.

Mrs. Trent laughed. “That woman much prefers paperwork to dealing with kids. So I hear you’re joining us, going forward?”

“Wow, Keller was sure of me, huh?”

“To be honest, I asked for you.”

I was flattered, but... “How come?”

“You’re patient, good with kids, and you haven’t missed a day in the last year.”

“Thanks. What can I do to help?” Sometimes I wished I was more like Lauren, less known by traits like steady and dependable. But I’d worked hard for my reputation, living up to parental expectations, and mostly I didn’t have time for emotional turmoil. Which was why Ty constituted such a dangerous side road in my neatly mapped life.

“Wipe down the tables. Once we’re done, start setting up the cots for nap time.”

“In the closet, right?”

“Yep. Thanks a lot.”

“Not a problem.”

I got the spray bottle and washcloth, then scrubbed away all signs of lunch. While I was working, Sam ran up to me. “Nadia! You’re my new teacher?”

“Mrs. Trent’s in charge. I’m her helper.”

“Can you help me, too?” Gazing up at me, he looked so much like Ty that I couldn’t stand it. I resisted the impulse to ruffle his hair.

“Sure, if you need something. Do you?”

“Not right now. I was just checking.” Cute overload.

He chattered while I sanitized tables and did a quick head count, not easy with the kids running around. Nineteen. That meant it would be like Tetris, getting all of the cots on the floor without placing them so close that the kids could poke each other, and I also had to leave some kind of path to the door. Crazy as it seemed, as long as there were two of us in here, Mrs. Trent could take five more students. I just didn’t know where the cots would go.

While I prepared, Mrs. Trent said, “Okay, time to clean up.” They put away toys with the usual giggling and pushing, nothing serious. She had the routine down.

“I have to potty,” a little girl said.

“Yep, it’s that time,” I answered with a glance at Mrs. T. “Should I get that started?”

“Please.”

It was a lot easier than in the twos, where there might be diaper changes. In here, the kids went by themselves, but would occasionally come out with pants around their ankles, and I set them to rights then helped them wash their hands at the tiny sink. Getting nineteen pre-K kids to pee and clean up took twenty minutes, minimum.

“All right, everyone, get your nap-time bags from your cubbies and get on your cots. I’ll read one story, then it’s lights out.” Mrs. Trent motioned toward the cupboards.

Nobody complained, though Sam looked worried. Maybe he’s scared of the dark? I felt like telling him that it wouldn’t be pitch-black in here, even with the blinds partly closed. The goal was to relax the kids, not freak them out through sensory deprivation. But he went obediently to his cubby and pulled down a tiny Hulk backpack, then he carried it to a cot near the windows. The kids didn’t seem to have assigned spots, and there was only a little bickering before they got out pint-size pillows and blankets. A few had stuffed animals, and I stifled a smile when Sam dragged out his dog-eared bear. As they got comfortable, Mrs. Trent produced a copy of Crazy Town Upside Down.

She was a fantastic reader, exciting and expressive. I noted some things I’d like to incorporate in my own teaching style. Though I’d be working with older students, some might have a similar mental age. Once she closed the book, I went around doing tuck-ins as she turned on a soothing CD. Next she pulled the blinds three-quarters closed and I hit the lights. The room was pleasantly dim, but I could still see all of the little faces. Some of them closed their eyes right away; others were obviously wrigglers who would be begging to get up in fifteen minutes.

Mrs. Trent and I moved off to a corner, where we sat on a pile of rugs. From this vantage point, we could spot potential trouble before it got out of hand. I started to whisper a question, but she held up a hand and gave me a notebook, instead. Good thinking. Our talk would only encourage the kids to chatter instead of sleep.

So I wrote, What do we do with those who refuse to nap?

She replied, Wait half an hour, then give them a book. Per regs, they have to rest quietly for two hours. We can’t make them sleep.

Gotcha.

She added, Usually, I go to lunch now, but I’ll stay for the first hour, until most of them fall asleep.

Okay, thanks.

If a kid gives you problems after I leave, rub his back. That sometimes works. If it escalates to tantrum territory, call me. Then she scrawled her number. I’ll come in to regulate.

The kids were fine, though. Fifteen of them dropped off in the first twenty minutes, and another succumbed as Mrs. Trent slipped out to take a well-deserved break. As if that was his cue, Sam popped up on his cot. Oooh, you little faker.

He peered around the room. “Nadia?”

I navigated through sleeping children, afraid he’d wake them up, and it would be a huge, chaotic mess when Mrs. Trent got back. Kneeling down beside him, I whispered, “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep. There’s too much breathing.”

“Do you want to look at a book?” If I’d known he was still awake, I’d have offered him one earlier.

“Okay.”

He was close enough to the window that I wasn’t worried about his eyesight. I got him the book Mrs. Trent had read earlier, thinking it might help if he was familiar with it, since I didn’t have a clear sense of Sam’s reading aptitude. Some four-year-olds could sound out words like first graders—others were still struggling to remember what sound each letter made.

“Can you sit next to me?”

Without answering, I slid down, wedged between Sam and the wall. I could still see all the other kids, though. He turned onto his stomach and opened the book. At this point, I wasn’t sure it was even worth trying, but I followed Mrs. Trent’s advice and rubbed his back in little circles. Honest to God, I was surprised when he shoved the book to the side and flopped on his pillow. Sam gave me a sleepy smile and then closed his eyes. His breath evened out, joining the rest of the class. It was silly how happy it made me, as if I’d scaled Everest or invented a lifesaving vaccine.

On tiptoe, I went back to the carpet pile, and when Mrs. Trent flipped the lights on, the kids were bright-eyed, ready to put their stuff away. She got them settled for snack while I wiped down and put away the cots. Afterward, another potty break, and then they lined up so they could take their turn playing outside. In a month or so, this ritual would include jackets, then hats and scarves, and eventually, they’d lose outdoor playtime to frosty weather. Usually, I’d have been pulled away by now, so it was interesting to see how routine made things easier.

Mrs. Trent led them out the side door and onto the playground. I came last to make sure nobody was left behind. Sam immediately ran for the slide while some kids raced for the swings, and others jumped on wobbly bees and dragonflies. I circulated, giving a push here, admiring a rock there, until the break was over. When we took them inside, it was almost four, and time for more face-and hand-washing.

While I set out crayons and pictures to color, Mrs. Trent sat down to write up her daily reports, detailing any problems or milestones. I got the kids settled and sat with them while they created masterpieces for their parents, who started arriving half an hour later. I shook a lot of hands, confirmed that I would be replacing Elaine part-time and made people happy by confessing that I was a college junior, studying education. By 5:15 p.m. we were down to thirteen students, and Sam was one of them.

“One more pickup, and you can head out, Nadia.”

“That would be great.” As a floater, I often ended up closing the facility down, and I had homework waiting, not to mention more reading, and a sample lesson plan project with only a week until it was due.

Ty was the next person to walk in. Sam jumped up from the table and ran to him, waving his picture excitedly. He had about a thousand things to say, all at once, and his dad beamed, like this was the best part of his day, and it made everything else worth it. Quite often, at pickup, the dads were impatient or irritated; Ty’s interaction with his son only made him seem hotter.

I’ve got to get over this.

“...and I slept for, like, twelve hours!” Sam finished.

He glanced at me, brow raised, so I clarified, “It was more like forty-five minutes.”

“But he did nap? Impressive. He stopped sleeping during the day with my aunt when he was three.”

“Everyone else was napping,” Sam said. “It was really quiet.”

I hung back while Mrs. Trent chatted over first-day impressions, then she gave Ty the report. Left to my own devices, I probably would’ve lingered to avoid potential awkwardness, but Mrs. T turned and made a shooing motion. “I’m down to twelve. Get out of here.”

So I signed out, grabbed my purse and left with Ty and Sam, who was swinging hard on his dad’s arm. Ty carried his backpack, glancing over at me now and then with an inscrutable look. But Mrs. Keller flagged me at the front door.

“Forms, remember? It won’t take long.”

I waved as Ty led Sam out. Five minutes later, I followed. It was dumb to be disappointed that the silver Focus was gone. I climbed into my Toyota and drove home. Our timing was off because Ty’s car was parked but they were already inside. I had no excuse to see him again, and I didn’t know if he wanted to go back to the balcony chats, after Saturday night. Maybe some distance would be good? Tired, I trudged up to our apartment and found everyone at home. At this hour, that was so surprising that I pretended to stare at them suspiciously.

“Is this an intervention?”

Lauren narrowed her eyes. “Have you been up to something that calls for it?”

“Probably,” I said, smirking.

She demanded that I spill, but I couldn’t. The whole Ty thing was complicated; I felt like I’d be violating his privacy if I dished like he was just any other guy, and there was Sam to consider. So I just shrugged and fell into the recliner, since Lauren was cuddling with Angus while making Max rub her feet. One of these days, I have to learn that trick. With natural blond hair and blue eyes, Lauren was pretty, though she was constantly saying she needed to lose twenty pounds. More to the point, she was sweet and had been at age seven, when she became my best friend by hitting Billy Derwent in the head with a glue bottle; he was trying to steal my lunch at the time.

“Your secrecy is starting to trouble me,” she said in an ominous tone.

“I’ll talk only when there’s something to say.”

“Said no woman ever.” Angus groaned when Lauren elbowed him.

“Fascinating as this is,” Max cut in, “I was wondering if you guys want to go to the dollar house tonight.”

There were two cinemas in Mount Albion, a regular-priced new cineplex, and a grubby, cut-rate one that had four screens and you paid between two and four dollars for a ticket, depending on the type of movie. Old blockbusters were usually four; the weird shit Max liked to watch was generally two.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for Thankskilling,” Lauren said. “But if I get to a good stopping point on my history paper, I could be persuaded to go sit in the dark and eat nachos.”

Angus shook his head. “Pass for me. Josh is cooking dinner.”

“Fancy,” I said.

“Oh, it’ll be revolting. But I didn’t have the heart to say no. He’s so cute when he tries.” Angus shoved Lauren off him and got up. “Speaking of which, I need to get moving.”

“What about you, Conrad? If you don’t go, Lauren might get overexcited over riding on the back of my bike. She might even think this is a date. It’ll be anarchy.”

“Cats living with dogs,” I said seriously.

I thought for a few seconds, listening to Angus bang around his room, presumably looking for something. He ran out a few seconds later. If I stayed home, I would have complete privacy for a balcony chat. On the other hand, I’d been neglecting my roomies lately, and I couldn’t let my fascination with Ty bloom into a full obsession, especially when he had been crystal clear about his intentions.

“I’m in, as long as we go to the late show. I have work to do first.”

“All work and no play, something something, make me a sandwich?” Max tried.

I smacked him on the way to the kitchen for some ramen, then I took the cup to my room and cracked open a virtual textbook while I ate. The reading went fast—well, for me; my lesson plan project less so, but I typed up some ideas and compiled a folder full of samples to give me more direction. Later, Lauren came in and got on her laptop, tapping away on her paper.

By nine, Max was wandering around our room, bored and touching things. When he opened my underwear drawer, I kicked him. “Fine, I get it. You’re ready to leave.”

I went in the bathroom, tried to tame my curls and brushed my teeth. Then I dodged into the closet and changed my shirt. The jeans were fine. I added a swipe of gloss, a beanie when I realized my hair was horrible, and emerged, scowling.

“It’s about time.” Lauren grinned to show she was kidding.

“I take it I’m driving.”

“If only I had a sidecar,” Max said.

Though I grumbled, I didn’t mind playing chauffeur. Max climbed in the back, letting Lauren have shotgun. I turned the music up really loud—to the point that it was impossible to do anything but scream along. Turned out it was a horror-movie parody Max wanted to see, so it was two bucks, as predicted. I ate nachos and chocolate for dinner, plus I laughed a lot.

Not bad.

It was late when we got home because Max talked us into swinging by the diner for midnight pancakes. They were delicious, but now I had to add a gym visit to my to-do list tomorrow. While Lauren and Max went straight to bed, I made a cup of tea and drank it alone on the balcony. Ty must be in bed by now. His patio was dark apart from the fading twinkle of his solar lights, and his living room lamp was off, too.

I drained the mug in a hurry and didn’t look up at the stars, not remotely ready to see if they’d shine as bright without him. It couldn’t happen, and I planned to fight this feeling, no surrender, until I could treat Ty with the same affection I gave my roomies.

“We could’ve been so good together,” I whispered to the night.

Leaving if only behind, I squared my shoulders and went silently inside.