Which was why, as we sat next to each other on the rickety old science lab stools, I forced myself not to look at him too long, not to encourage any attention or gossip. Just a friendly shared grin over Mrs. Allen’sBacheloranalysis. A perfectly executed high five when he finished the crossword puzzle. Synched eye rolls regarding Principal Nadal’s continued inability to get the PowerPoint started.
Until finally, the presentation lit up the whiteboard.
COLEMAN CREEK HIGH SCHOOL HOLIDAY CELEBRATIONS FINAL PLANS
Yes! Here was something much less confusing than my feelings for James. Everyone in the room sat up a tad straighter. It was time for our little school to shine.
Chapter two
James
Maniacal.
That was the only word I could use to describe Marley’s grin.
A wide beam, all brilliant white teeth and pulled back lips. Cheeks glowing. I glanced down to see her purple-painted fingernails tapping an excited rhythm on her thighs.
As usual, she looked adorable.
“Why are you smiling like that?” I leaned in to ask, just as our boss started speaking.
“My fellow educators,” Principal Nadal began in his typical, oddly formal way. “I’d like to focus this meeting on firming up our plans to have a wonderful and festive season at Coleman Creek High.”
“It’s just a normal smile,” Marley said in a hushed tone.
“Sure, if you’re a killer clown.”
She giggled and old Mr. Bailey leaned back to give us his disapproving eye. I gave him a big thumbs up. Double thumbs, in fact, while pumping my fists up and down. He shook his head at me as the presentation continued.
“We have the holiday dance, the food drive and the door decorating contest all happening before December seventeenth…”
Principal Nadal moved through the slides but I didn’t follow too closely. It sounded straightforward. He wanted to ensure we were honoring the traditions of all our students, and he encouraged faculty members to be a part of the festivities. We spent the rest of the time on teachers volunteering for various assignments, in addition to the ones we’d been given weeks ago when planning began. Since I was new to the school, I raised my hand a few times, wanting to do my part. I got the impression Coleman Creek High went big for the holidays, and the teachers all seemed excited to help.
Marley confirmed as much as we walked toward the parking lot after the meeting. A groundskeeping crew nearby blew the last of the coppery orange maple leaves into piles, working against the nipping breeze that had me pulling my beanie over my ears.
“I love this time of year. It’s great we’re getting an extra weekend with the Christmas tree lot,” she said, swinging her arms as her hair bobbed against her shoulders.
“Yeah, everyone seemed weirdly enthusiastic about the tree lot.”
“Because it’s a big fundraiser for the PTSA.”
I scrunched my forehead. “Maybe this is a dumb question coming from the newbie, but how come the staff is so concerned with how much the PTSA raises? I get it’s important for the parents to be involved and all, but that money is just for, like, dance decorations and the grad night party, right?”
Marley huffed. “Those things are just the beginning. I don’t know how much information they gave you about the budget when you got hired, but trust me when I say the school is on a shoestring.”
“I know a little. It’s one reason I got brought on so late in the summer. Even though enrollments were up slightly, it took a while to get the emergency funding to hire someone.” In the end, that had worked in my favor. Since circumstances had forced Principal Nadal to decide quickly at a time when most teachers already had assignments, he’d been willing to take a chance on a new-to-teaching Seattle transplant with a nose piercing.
“Yeah, that tracks. The district barely gives us enough to cover the basics,” Marley continued. “Without the PTSA and the athletic boosters, we wouldn’t have extra for anything fun. Deejays for the dances, props for the drama department, a new sound system for the stadium. The list never ends.”
I’d done my student teaching in a wealthier district outside Seattle. If it had had those types of budget constraints, I hadn’t known about them.
“That’s why an extra weekend for the lot is so handy,” she continued. “More chances to sell. Plus, as far as money-making ventures go, a Christmas tree lot is fun. Much better than forcing the kids to sell things or take part in anything that ends in ‘-a-thon.’”
“Fair.” I smiled, appreciating Marley’s insight. She’d been helping me learn about the school and the town since we’d first started talking.
My first few weeks in Coleman Creek, I’d stuck out like a sore thumb. Trucks and SUVs surrounded my little blue commuter car in the teacher lot. I’d once made myself the target of friendly guffaws when I’d asked where the best Thai food in town was, and another time when I’d tried to use my Uber app. And even though I’d maintained a laid-backin on the jokevibe as the other faculty members had ribbed me good-naturedly, I’d wanted very much to fit in.
I really liked the nondescript, workaday town with its one four-lane main street. Nothing felt artificial. Most of the residents worked at the factories and warehouses up the highway. There were a few bars and a bowling alley, a handful of churches, a one-screen movie theater, and a tiny library. Two city parks. Little storefronts for buying insurance, pet supplies, and cell phone plans at one end of town. At the other, a dirt lot where you could get your car fixed or pull spare parts. In between were fast-food joints, a bank, a gym, a nail salon. The Walmart just outside city limits covered most everything else.
