Phoebe Berman's Gonna Lose It(19)
Holding the list close to my chest, I do everything in my power to avoid Teacher Rob as I make my way over to the teachers’ lounge. Shannon doesn’t look up from her desk when I open the front door of the Stone Building, and I don’t go out of my way to bother with a hello. I walk past her in silence and slip into the teachers’ lounge, making myself a quick cup of tea while I wait for the laminator to warm up. The couch that likely doubles as Teacher Rob’s bed is less than comfortable, but I situate myself on it anyway while sipping my drink and reading an email from my mom that should have been a text.
Mom:
Can you send the band Jamie’s updated playlist?
And send the makeup artist an updated head count?
Sent from my iPhone
I roll my eyes, considering that both these requests technically fall under the umbrella of her responsibility.
When Jamie asked me to be her maid of honor, I practically went blind with excitement at the thought of all the organizing and planning that would go into the preparations. I was twenty-four pages into a single-spaced proposed wedding agenda, in the middle of brainstorming vegetarian meal options, when my mom called.
“This is a lot of work, Phoebe,” she had said. “Let me handle a few things.”
My mother chronically underestimates me. Convinced that my anxiety renders me completely incapable of performing simple tasks, she insisted on taking on some of the wedding planning duties.
As it always is with my mother, I found it easier to acquiesce than to argue. I surrendered some of the more logistical planning to her, like hiring the band, makeup artist, and other necessary staff, while I kept the more organizational and aesthetic tasks for myself, like seating charts and flower arrangements.
“We’ll make a good team,” she had said. “And this way, you have more time to focus on your work. And therapy. And maybe even finding a date.”
Jamie doesn’t seem to care who does what, as long as she marries Ethan at the end of the day.
The laminator is warm enough by now, and I feed it my list at exactly the same moment the door behind me opens. I was so focused on avoiding Teacher Rob that I hadn’t even considered who else could be wandering the halls of the Stone Building.
I can feel my palms dampening on impact as my fists instinctively clench at my sides.
“Phoebe!” Finn says, and though I’m entirely paranoid that he’ll catch me in the act of list making, I can’t help but let myself revel in the way my name sounds when it’s coming out of his mouth. “I’m glad I caught you before you left.”
His button-down shirt is gone, leaving him in the white tee, which exposes his tan arms and broad shoulders. His hair is mussed and his shirt is only half tucked in, and he looks disheveled in a way that might have me slightly concerned if it wasn’t so hot.
“Thanks again for the pencils; I was just headed your way to bring them back.”
His steps are sluggish as he makes his way across the room to me, and I impulsively race to meet him in the middle. From behind me, I can hear my updated list popping out of the machine, on full display. I take the pencils from his grasp, and when our fingers touch, a shiver shoots through me. I pull my hand away reflexively.
“Anytime. And we have loads of other art supplies if you ever need any. Our classroom is your classroom.”
I begin walking backward, creeping slowly toward my list.
“Aw man, thanks, Phoebe. You’re the best.”
Phoebe. The way he says my name scratches an itch I didn’t know I had, but I don’t have much time to fixate on that considering he’s currently stepping around me to get to the laminator. I beat him to it and snatch up my latest project before he gets his eyes on it.
“Sorry, I just wanted to get my stuff out of your way,” I tell him while positioning the list behind my back as casually as possible. His body is inches from mine as he hovers over me, looking down at me curiously as I stand between him and the machine. If I wasn’t so focused on getting the list as far away from him as possible, I think my knees would have given out by now.
“All yours now.”
I smile sweetly as I slip out from under him.
He smiles back. “Thanks.”
The second he looks away to feed a sheet of multiplication practice into the machine, I begin my internal debate: Stay and talk to Finn, or make a run for it? I make a snap decision and shove the list down the back of my skort. I bite my tongue to keep from screeching as one of the sharp corners of the lamination slices my flesh. My vision begins to swim.
Focus.
I slouch slightly and cross my arms, my best impression of a girl who doesn’t have a “how to lose your virginity” checklist jammed down the back of her underwear.
“Did you have a good first day?” Based on his appearance, I already know what type of answer to expect.
He puts his hand on the back of his neck and looks around the room sheepishly.
“Uhh…” He sighs. “Not really. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“None of us know what we’re doing,” I respond, trying not to appear overexcited that he’s choosing me to confide in.
“You do,” he says without hesitating, and his voice is tinged with a mixture of firmness and kindness. Before I can interject, he continues. “Me, on the other hand…I was hit with close to twenty paper airplanes today. Hence me laminating all our handouts from now on. And one of the kids won’t stop calling me Teacher Fart.”