Page 26

So far, this school year has been one of my best years yet.

I love all of my students, and I feel like I’ve finally hit my stride as a teacher.

Now that October is in full swing and we’ve been together for a few months, I’m beginning to see progress in everything from sight words and numbers to our classroom routines.

They’re all gaining so much confidence, and it’s an honor to see them grow each day.

But even though it’s been brilliant, nothing is perfect.

The kids are amazing, but there are a few parents who I’m convinced spend their days sitting by their computers and drafting emails to send me about any and everything.

I’m doing my best to support them, but I kind of wish I took a page out of Keisha’s book and warned them off at the start of the year.

There’s also the small fact that I haven’t gotten my car back yet.

Thankfully it hasn’t rained again, but it’s getting colder by the day and I’m bracing myself for when I wake up one morning and the sidewalks are covered with snow.

Plus, my body still hasn’t adjusted to the bike seat, and every time I climb on my bike, I’m more and more convinced that whoever came up with the design was a sadist. It’s already bad enough that I look like some kind of delinquent who lost their driver’s license or worse, a person who cares about the environment, but my vagina shouldn’t hurt this much on top of it.

Just one more reason I need Petunia Lemon to give me my freaking money back.

I rest my pounding head on top of the pile of papers I’ve been meaning to grade, the sound of classical music about a minute away from putting me to sleep.

I’ve lost count of how long I’ve been on hold with Petunia Lemon since Monday.

Every time I call about returning my inventory and getting my refund processed, they start bouncing me around from one person to the next.

I got really close last night, but right when the customer service representative started to ask for my credit card information, the call was magically disconnected.

When I called back, I was greeted with an autoresponder telling me it was after hours and to call back tomorrow.

I don’t want to assume the worst, but the longer this takes, the more upset I’m starting to get.

The soft melody of the current song ends, and I hold my breath before the gentle notes of the next song begin to play.

My fingers flex around the phone, and the urge to throw it against the whiteboard is almost too strong to fight.

Part of me is so delusional that I’m convinced if I wait five more minutes, a representative will be on the phone to wrap this whole mess up.

The realistic part of me, however, knows this is a fool’s errand, and there’s no way anyone will be able to help before my students return from lunch.

Biting back a scream, I hang up the phone.

A light knock sounds on my door, and I glance at my clock. I wasted a good portion of my lunch period, but it’s way too early for my class to be back. The only person who ever comes into my room during the school day is Keisha, but she’s supposed to be in class right now and she never knocks.

“Come in!” I try to yell, but my hoarse voice doesn’t carry as far as it normally does.

I’m expecting one of the other kindergarten teachers to come in, probably to nab some of the extra supplies I always have, so color me shocked when Jacqueline waltzes inside instead.

“Sorry to bother you,” she says. “Is now an okay time to come in?”

“Of course.” I stand up and walk around my desk to greet her. “Isla is at lunch now, do you need me to go and grab her?”

Other than her disastrous showing at back-to-school night and waving to her in the car pool lines occasionally, she’s not a common face at Nester Fox yet.

Nothing has happened between me and Luke—well, not again—but I can’t help feeling like a very specific brand of dirtbag standing across from her.

“That’s not necessary.” Her striking blue eyes twinkle beneath the fluorescent lights, and there’s not a single hair out of place on her head.

She’s so perfect that it hurts my eyes. I feel like I need permission to look at her.

“I know Lucas is bringing Isla cupcakes for her birthday today, but I wanted to bring a little something special too.”

She lifts up the two bags I somehow didn’t even see her holding and stares at me expectantly until I take the hint, along with both bags from her hands.

“Oh wow!” Both bags are filled with much smaller bags, and while one of them was nice and light, the other one is so heavy that I’m surprised it didn’t break. “Isla is going to be thrilled.”

Isla, like most children on their birthdays, has been floating on cloud nine from the moment she walked into the classroom this morning and saw her birthday surprise.

It’s my little tradition to decorate my students’ desks for their birthdays with balloons and a birthday crown or hat.

We always have the treasure chest in the room, but I have a special box with bigger toys that I pull out for birthdays.

They get to pick one toy, and then I buy them a treat from the lunch room—Isla chose a “Barbie” and an ice-cream sandwich.

Odette even snuck in an extra juice box for her.

It’s not much, but they love it.

And even though I know I shouldn’t have done it because it comes very close to crossing lines, I may have gotten her a cat toy for Mister Bubbles. It’s a llama plushie and it was on sale for three dollars! It would’ve been a crime not to get it.

“Those are bags for the kids.” She points to the smaller, lighter bags before moving to the larger, heavier bags that, now I’m looking, I can see are filled with Petunia Lemon products.

“And those are for the moms. I know it’s a little unconventional, but I figured, why not? Moms deserve nice things too.”

“They sure do,” I agree, although something about this makes me really uncomfortable. “This was very thoughtful of you.”

“Right? There’s samples of everything in there. The face wash, night cream, antiaging serum, a couple of different sheet masks, and a face roller. I also added a discount card in case they want to schedule a Petunia Pro treatment with me.”

I’m attempting to listen, but I’m too distracted trying to figure out how much she must have spent putting the mom bags together.

My class has sixteen students and the face rollers alone are fifteen dollars a pop.

Add in the sheet masks and the samples that you still have to pay for and that’s so much freaking money!

Unwelcome and uninvited, Luke’s stupid, gravelly, sexy-as-sin voice telling me how financially irresponsible Jacqueline is when it comes to Petunia Lemon pops into my head.

I don’t even know if he was telling the truth, but now I can’t help but wonder if she’s doing as well as an empowered skincare consultant as she seems or if it’s just a front while she digs herself an even deeper hole.

I don’t know how much she’s invested in her business, but considering I sunk over two thousand dollars on product in just a few months, I can only imagine how much she’s spent.

But luckily for me, I don’t need to know the number to know it’s none of my damn business.

“I’m sure they will love this.” I grab my keys out of my desk drawer and carry the bags to the closet I always keep locked at the back of the room.

Goodie bags are best when distributed right before school ends; if they see them before that exact moment, all hell will break loose.

Another lesson I learned the hard way. “I’ll be sure to pass them out when we’re packing up to leave. ”

“Oh my god! I almost forgot!” The sound of her heels against the tile floors echoes in the room as she runs after me. “I bought these for the classroom.”

She reaches into the massive Louis Vuitton bag tucked on her shoulder and pulls out three brand-new bottles of Petunia Lemon’s triple-action sunscreen.

One bottle of that stuff retails for a whopping eighty-five dollars with the discount.

It’s one of their most popular products, but I’m pretty sure it’s meant to firm skin and help fight wrinkles…

not to lather small children in before they run around the playground.

But hey. I’m quitting. What do I know?

“Oh wow!” I say again, beginning to feel like a broken record. “It’s so kind of you to think of the classroom, but unfortunately, I can’t accept these.”

“What?” Her arms fall to her sides and confusion mars her beautiful face. It’s the most I’ve ever seen her forehead move, and like the aurora borealis or a solar eclipse, it’s a rare and fascinating sight to behold. “What do you mean? Why not?”

“We aren’t allowed to apply sunscreen at school.

” It’s one of those things that feels so absurd, it’s almost laughable.

Gun laws to ensure student safety? Nope.

Laws to prohibit teachers from applying sunscreen?

Sure, why not? “If a student is in need of sunscreen, it must be applied at home before they come to school.”

“But we live in Colorado!” Jacqueline sounds just as shocked as I was when I found out about this rule. “And it’s just sunscreen for Christ’s sake!”

The happy glow has long since left Jacqueline’s face, and even though I completely understand her outrage, I feel a bit of whiplash at her sudden mood change…

And at being her unfortunate target.

“I know, I think it’s ridiculous too.” I try to placate her. “But because sunscreen is regulated by the FDA, it’s considered an over-the-counter drug. I’ve seen parents bring in their own sunscreen to the nurse along with a doctor’s note, but other than that, there’s nothing we can do about it.”