Chapter one
Marley
Alltheteacherscrammedinto one of the science labs for the mandatory faculty meeting. Sitting on the tall stool next to posters of Marie Curie and the periodic table felt surreal. I hadn’t been in this room for at least twelve years. Not since I’d been a junior taking advanced chemistry.
Coach Hurley, the school’s shorts-in-November-wearing ex-Marine athletic director, sat in the corner with his arms folded, complaining half-heartedly about having a staff meeting right before the holiday. A few others pretended to agree, but they didn’t fool me. As much as we might be looking forward to the long weekend, we all wanted to be here.
Our group of teachers was close-knit. A small faculty for a small school. And because it was the only high school in the district, we didn’t have the constant change-up and churn of staff many larger districts experienced. Seven of those present had been teaching at Coleman Creek High when I’d attended, including Mrs. Allen. She’d been my favorite teacher back in the day. Now, she was a trusted mentor.
I chuckled quietly as she finished her analysis of last night’s episode ofThe Bachelorfrom the table next to mine, “…and that Bryan is a total smoke show, as the kids would say. I’d climb that man like a tree.”
“Mrs. Allen!” exclaimed grumpy old Mr. Bailey.
“What?” Her eyes twinkled. “There are no students.”
He hmphed, and I smiled. Even though I’d been working at the school for over four years, I had trouble viewing Mr. Bailey as a colleague. As far as I was concerned, he was still the history teacher who’d once given me a C on a paper about the Civil War.
Principal Nadal stabbed angrily at his computer, muttering about PowerPoint. This meeting would clearly not be starting on time.
I checked my watch, wondering why James hadn’t shown up yet.
Just as I was about to text, his large frame slid into the seat next to mine.
“Hey,” he said, slightly out of breath, reaching up to adjust the slouchy beanie on his head. I knew there was a messy man bun underneath. He almost always wore it that way, although occasionally it was down or in a ponytail.
“Hi.” I tilted my head. “In a rush?”
His face reddened slightly beneath his neat brown beard. “Nah. Just annoyed. Fel Torres wanted to talk to me about an assignment. Apparently, if he gets anything less than an A, I’m under some sort of magical obligation to let him re-do it.”
“Hmm. I know he’s tough, but the parents are ten times worse. Hopefully they won’t start calling.”
James had only been at the school since August, when he’d moved to our small town in eastern Washington from Seattle. It was his first teaching job, so he was still learning the ins and outs of parent/teacher politics. At twenty-eight, he was also the youngest faculty member, since his birthday came one month after mine.
But he appeared unfazed by Fel’s antics. “As it happens, I was planning to offer all the students the opportunity for a make-up, so it works out.”
“Good news for them.”
I turned my eyes toward the front of the room, keeping my expression neutral. I didn’t want to give my colleagues a reason to suspect anything. Since James and I both taught in the humanities—language arts for me, social studies for him—we often worked together. Plus, in a town this small, it was impossible to hide how much time we’d been spending together outside school. Coach Hurley caught my gaze and raised an eyebrow in James’s direction. I ignored him.
My own thoughts were jumbled enough without adding meddling co-workers to the mix. Luckily, I excelled at projecting calm—even though my mind had been topsy-turvy since lunch today. I couldn’t stop dissecting every interaction I’d ever had with James. Starting with the first one.
Mrs. Allen had introduced us during the prep week before classes started. I’d registered that I found the new hire attractive, but only in a casual way—like how I’d notice a movie star or a good-looking neighbor. Those first weeks, I’d given him a few upnods in the hallway, and a wave at an assembly, but that was all.
My mother had died the previous October, so there had been other things on my mind then. Mainly navigating my first beginning of the school year without her. I’d been doing well enough, focusing on happier memories of the years she’d been able to help buy classroom supplies and listen to me talk about my lesson plans. But there’s no such thing as a constant upward trajectory with grieving.
And when my first trulydownday of the new school year came, James had been the one to find me.
It had been after the last bell, on the third Friday of the school year. I’d stayed late to decorate and organize my classroom. Except he hadn’t caught me stapling trim onto bulletin boards or cataloging copies ofThe Great Gatsby. A sad song had come through my ear buds. Since I’d been alone, I’d allowed myself to close my eyes and give in to the melancholy, a moment of catharsis.
“Ms. Davis, are you okay? I heard—” James paused in the doorway. “Oh, shit.” Crooking his elbow, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I…uh…heard crying, and I thought maybe someone was hurt.”
Feeling my face heat, I peered up from my chair. After pulling my Air Pods from my ears, I ran a quick hand over my wet cheeks. I must have been so wrapped up in the music I hadn’t realized I’d been making noise. “No. It’s just me. Having a moment,” I sniffed before giving a self-conscious huff. “Sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was here.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s me who’s intruding. I left a book I needed on my desk, so I came back. I’ll leave you alone now.” He began backing out into the hallway.
“Wait!” I called after him. “I’m a little embarrassed you caught me, Mr. Wymack, but I also don’t want you to leave thinking I’m the teacher who sobs in her classroom every day after the students leave. I mean, they’re a handful, but not quite enough to break me.”
He fought a smile, his efforts causing both of us to do so. “It’s okay, Ms. Davis. I wasn’t thinking that. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” He glanced around. Spotting a Kleenex box on the entry desk, he gave it to me. “Also, feel free to call me James.”
