Page 9

Nine

Jade

I’m not sure if it’s because I aced my interview or because Reed has more pull at St. Pat’s than I thought, but they hired me on the spot.

So today is my first day starting at St. Pat’s as a teacher.

“It can’t be that hard,” my brother Waylon says to me, piling a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

I thought taking care of my twin brothers would be easy. They’re fourteen and should be mostly self-sufficient. Sure, I knew I’d be their taxi driver, but they’re way more babied than I ever was. So instead of sipping coffee and watching my morning news show, I’m chained to the kitchen, preparing eggs and bacon because they’re “growing young boys” according to my mom.

“You go sit in a classroom with twenty first graders.” I pick up a piece of bacon and take a bite.

“I have to sit in a classroom with thirty freshmen.”

Waylon has a point. I’ll take the first graders.

“Don’t you just have to read them books?” Owen asks, pulling toast out of the toaster and buttering it. At least they can do some things for themselves. He takes the pieces back to his plate and makes a sandwich with the eggs and bacon.

“Good idea. These eggs are dry as shit.” Waylon gets up and heads over to the toaster.

“Language,” Mom hollers from the other room.

“How about a little gratitude?” I say to my brothers.

“Good thing she didn’t get a job as a chef.” Owen and Waylon both laugh.

“Haha.” I roll my eyes at them.

Waylon pats me on the shoulder. “Oh relax. So, what do you do with first graders?”

I watch the twins each make sandwiches the exact same way. A little egg, a little bacon, more egg, and the last of the bacon. I wonder what it would be like to grow up with a twin.

They have matching dark hair from Mom and blue eyes from Reed. Staring at someone and seeing yourself must be so weird.

“Cheese!” Owen gets up and opens the fridge.

“Grab me a slice.” Waylon continues to construct his egg sandwich.

I have to admit it looks pretty good.

“Henry had a killer game last night.” Waylon looks at me through his eyelashes, and Owen peeks at me from the fridge.

Seriously, more people on the Henry train?

“That goal in the third.” Owen lets out a long whistle.

“His wrist shot is insane this year. I texted him,” Waylon says.

My ears perk up more. The boys have his number? Of course they do. Henry’s practically an older brother to them.

“He’s gonna stop by to show me some drills.” Owen tosses a slice of cheese on Waylon’s plate and sits back on his stool at the breakfast counter.

“He should come to practice. Bring Bodhi.”

I turn around to hide my reaction to the fact that my little brothers know a lot more than I do about Henry and his son. It hurts a little, although I have no right to feel that way. I’m the one who decided to stay away.

“Definitely. Let me text him now.” Owen pulls out his phone.

I told Henry he could use my number on Saturday, and here we are on Thursday, and no text from him. But he’s texting my brother. Wonderful.

Owen’s thumbs move across the screen, then his phone rings in his hands. Since I’ve been home, I haven’t seen my brothers actually talk to anyone on the phone—they’re always texting or snapping or whatever it is they do—but Owen answers it right away.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” a small voice says.

“What’s up, Bodzilla?” Owen says and puts the call on speakerphone.

“I’m ready for school, but Daddy’s still getting ready, so he said to call you.” His little voice is so cute and darling.

I stir my creamer into my mug with my back turned so I can act as though it doesn’t faze me in the slightest to think about Henry in the shower or standing in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist. Styling his dark-blond hair or brushing those insanely white teeth. Nope, not picturing that at all. I can’t keep my back turned forever though, so I circle around and pretend I’m perfectly fine.

Waylon leans over to be closer to the phone. “Tell him to hurry up. No one wants to be the late kid.” He takes an oversized bite of his sandwich.

“Yesterday I was the last one there,” Bodhi says.

Henry late? The Henry I remember was always early. But then again, he has a six-year-old to get ready now too.

“You’re the cool kid for being the last one to arrive.” Owen nudges Waylon as if to say change the narrative .

My heart warms that my brothers care so much for Henry’s son. That thought is accompanied with a painful tug in my chest for everything I’ve missed since I went away, but I push it back down.

“Really?” Bodhi asks.

“Absolutely, we’re late all the time. Except to hockey practice. We’re never late for hockey.” Waylon shoves the last bit of his sandwich into his mouth and stands from the chair.

“No rush, Daddy!” Bodhi calls.

Hearing him call Henry Daddy makes my ovaries ache in the best way.

“Tell the twins I’ll meet them at the rink Sunday.”

My heart stops, and my face heats when I hear Henry’s voice. It takes me a second to realize that my brothers are staring at me.

“Awesome. Thanks, Henry,” Owen says.

“Say bye, Bodhi,” Henry says in the background. There’s some noise through the speaker, then I hear footsteps running away in the distance. “Want me to bring Conor for some goalie tips?”

There he is—crystal clear and talking right into the phone.

“That’d be awesome. Would he do it, you think?” Waylon asks.

“I’m sure he will. Okay, I gotta finish getting ready…”

“Thanks, Henry,” Owen says.

I’m thankful the conversation is ending so I can continue my day and not have to think about Henry half naked and getting ready for the day. Who am I kidding? My day will be filled with images of what I think his abs might look like now.

“You’re welcome… um… hey?”

I freeze, grabbing the keys off the counter so I can drive the boys to school.

“What’s up?” Owen asks.

“Is your sister there?” Henry asks.

My heart damn near pops out of my chest. I swivel around and shake my head at my brothers.

“Uh… she’s in the car waiting for us. Did you need to talk to her or something?” Owen cringes at me like “what do you want me to do?”

“No… I just… no. See you Sunday.”

They hang up, and I’m speechless for a moment, wondering what he wanted with me. Or did he sense I was in the room listening in? So many questions I’ll never get the answer to.

“You two have major issues.” Waylon grabs his jacket and bag, walking toward the back door.

“Yeah, they do.” Owen gets his stuff and walks by me, opening the back door.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I swipe my purse off the hook.

“I know that you ignore his existence, and every time he’s over, he’s always asking about you. Seems like the two of you never got over each other.” Owen slaps his brother on the back to get going, and they walk down the stairs toward our detached garage.

I can’t even say they’re wrong, which really sucks.

It’s my first day at St. Pat’s, so after I drop the boys off at school, I park back at the house and check on Mom before walking down the block to the school, just as I did for half my childhood. The problem is that I feel Henry’s absence even more because for many years, we walked this same cracked sidewalk side by side.

The school asked me to shadow Mrs. McConnell since her due date is closing in. Which I was all for since I have no idea what I’m going to be doing. My only saving grace is they told me Mrs. McConnell is very organized, and she’s already written up all the sub plans for while she’s gone. Surely, I can follow someone else’s directions.

Since I’ve been obsessed and nervous about today, Henry hasn’t been on my mind as often as he would be otherwise, which is the entire point. So my plan is working.

I walk into St. Pat’s, and the office tells me which classroom to go to. I’m there before any of the students arrive to hopefully get to know Mrs. McConnell a little more. Any information I can siphon off her before she starts her maternity leave will be useful.

When I reach the classroom, she’s sitting in an armchair in front of the window with a rug laid out in front of her. I imagine that must be where the kids sit when she’s reading to them. Her head is tilted back, and her eyes are closed.

I knock softly and her eyes pop open, and she inhales a few deep breaths.

“Hi. I’m Jade… Keebler.”

Her hands run down her belly. “Nice to meet you, Jade. And I’m sorry to do this to you, but I think I’m in labor.”

My eyes widen, and I stiffen. “Oh. Oh my gosh.” I look over my shoulder. “Should I get someone?”

“If you could get my cell phone out of my bag and hand it to me? I have an emergency plan in motion if it happens while I’m here.”

I rush over to her desk, finding her purse on top. It’s weird to go into a stranger’s bag, but I grab her phone and hand it to her.

“Now can you call the office on that phone right there and tell them that I need Principal Wheatley to drive me to the hospital, please?”

“Not an ambulance?” My forehead wrinkles.

She waves me off. “This is my third. I’m good.”

Okay then. Third baby, no ambulance. Got it.

Someone answers her call, and all she says is it’s time, see you there, and hangs up. This woman is a real pro apparently. And not at all freaked out that she’s about to push a baby out of her vagina.

I call the office, and when I tell them what’s going on, no one there sounds as though they’re in a panic. I mean, the lady is in labor. What the heck?

A couple minutes later, I hear footsteps in the hallway before three people storm through the door. It’s a bit of a whirlwind as they help her up from the chair and walk her toward the door.

“This is an exciting day,” Principal Wheatley says, laughing about the situation. “Congrats on your first day.”

I nod numbly. I think I’m going to throw up.

“My sub plans are in the top right drawer. Just follow those. I’ll touch base after she’s born,” Mrs. McConnell says over her shoulder as she’s helped out of the room. “And crap, the concert is tomorrow night. Just do your best. Talk to Mrs. Hassels, and she’ll explain how it goes. She’s great, you’ll have no problems.”

Then they’re gone.

I stand there stunned for a moment before a woman with curly blonde hair peeks into the room. “I’ll get your students into the room. Just get yourself situated. You’ll do great.” She gives me a thumbs-up.

I turn to stare at my new desk. These kids are getting the short end of the stick. I sit down at the desk, where I find everything meticulously organized. Sure enough, her binder full of plans is in the top right drawer. Thank goodness she’s a planner. So unlike me.

I’m not even going to ask the kids to refer to me the way they normally do their teachers. I’ll be introducing myself as Miss Jade. With a last name like Keebler, the cookie jokes would be endless if I asked kids this age to call me Miss Keebler.

I read over what she had planned for today and her instructions on how to use all the techno gadgets that weren’t here when I was in school. This is going to be a learning curve, but I’ve got this. I’ll be fine. As long as I keep telling myself it, maybe I’ll believe it.

I’m feeling a little calmer until I stand and walk between all the desks. Each one has a name written on laminated colored paper and taped to the top. The names are so cute these days. No Katies or Mikes or Billys. Even if they’re common names, they’re spelled differently. I stop when I read the one in the front row, third aisle.

Bodhi.

Well, there are a lot of Bodhis in the world. I’m sure it’s a coincidence. This is a city with millions of people.

“Who are you?”

I startle when the same voice I heard earlier this morning sounds from the doorway. I circle around to find a cute dark-haired boy with caramel-colored eyes. I guess in terms of students who attend St. Pat’s first grade, there’s only one Bodhi—Bodhi Hensley.

And just like that, my plan goes to shit.