Phoebe Berman's Gonna Lose It(18)

I drag my feet over to her and Cheryl and prepare to make nice.

“Hi, Shannon.”

She’s wearing black slacks and a wool cardigan in the eighty-degree heat. I break into a sweat just looking at her. This year will be her last before retirement, and I’ve been getting some pressure from our principal, Dan, to interview for her spot. “The interview is only a formality, really,” he said. And even though he’s practically offering me a promotion on a silver platter, I told him I need to think about it. Though the pay bump would be really nice, I’m not sure I’m ready to leave the classroom in favor of an administrative position. I’ve been going back and forth in my head for weeks, changing my mind at least fifteen times a day.

Usually, during times when I’m crippled by indecision, I go to my friends. But I haven’t mentioned this to them yet. None of them are particularly thrilled with where they’re at job-wise, and bringing this up would feel kind of insensitive. I don’t want to bother them with my champagne problems, which is why I turned to Matthew. He’s just so smart and levelheaded; he felt like the perfect person to go to for advice.

He suggested doing the interview regardless of whether I want the job. No need to panic about making any decisions yet, he had texted, and the noise in my head dulled for a moment. Talking to him always makes me feel calm, even if the idea of going on a date with him sends me into fight-or-flight. And no matter what, interviews are always good practice. He’s right.

The next time I see Dan, I’m going to tell him I’ll take the interview. One step at a time.

Shannon gives me a glare, as if she knows I’m in the middle of thinking about taking her job. Her gaze lingers for an extra few seconds on my left arm.

“Why would you do that to yourself?” she asks.

I knew she’d have something to say about Bev. But if anything, her drawing attention to it only serves as a reminder of what Bev stands for.

I can do hard things.

Like losing my virginity to the new fourth-grade teacher, for example.

I plaster on my fakest smile and respond through gritted teeth, “It’s great to see you, too, Shannon.”

She hands Cheryl and me each a piece of paper.

“This is from Dan.”

I give it a quick once-over. It’s a memo introducing a new program called Book Buddies, an “opportunity for our students of different ages to learn from one another.” From my skimming, it seems like we’ll be partnering up with one of the older grades once a week to do different activities.

“The grade you’re partnering with is on the back.”

I turn the page over as Shannon walks away without saying goodbye. The floral perfume that lingers in her wake makes me gag, but I don’t care because nothing, not even Shannon’s terrible attitude and stuffy perfume, could burst my bubble right now.

Cheryl flashes me a huge grin. “Oh, I can’t wait to see how this plays out.”

Pre-K’s first meeting with Finn’s fourth-grade class is next Monday.



* * *



—

I load the last kid of the day into their car seat, then wipe the sweat off my brow while watching the Audi pull out of the parking lot. I say a quick goodbye to Cheryl as she rushes past me, racing to pick her kids up from their high school across town, while I make my way back to pre-K.

There is nothing that brings me greater peace than spending some time alone in our classroom at the end of the day. Between the kids, having a roommate, and spending most of my free time with my friends, it’s really the only time I have to myself.

I open my desk drawer and take out my phone, which I stashed in there during lunchtime in an effort to avoid checking it compulsively. I have a few texts in response to my inquiry about Jonathan.

Nora:

I left before the other three, so I don’t know how his night ended Phoebe: His location was somewhere that I didn’t recognize

Nora:

I dread the day he realizes his location is on. I’m not sure how much help Meg will be By the time I left she was horizontal in the booth

Alex:

He walked out at the same time as us

I figured he was just going home

Meg:

Phoebe, do you still have that vet friend?

And do you think she’d feel comfortable making a house call to put me down Phoebe:

How about you try drinking a gatorade first

And then if that doesn’t work I can text the vet about euthanasia So, Jonathan’s night remains a mystery.

I resist the urge to text him and hound him about his whereabouts by busying myself with pulling supplies out of my bag, along with the still unlaminated list. I have tasks to add now that Finn is in the mix, including but not limited to: Flirt with Finn and Get Finn to buy me a drink.

I start crafting my new and improved list on a fresh piece of paper, transferring all the old tasks over and adding some new ones. I’m just about done, but my hand freezes when it comes time to transfer Go on a date with Matthew.

Does it even make sense to keep this one?

Between the anxious knot that formed in my stomach this morning when I remembered the text I sent, and the fact that it still remains unanswered, I’m not sure. After careful deliberation, I decide to add it to the new list under Advertise myself on Craigslist, truly as a last resort, and really only because it evens out the number of tasks and fills out the page nicely.