Page 27 of Rock Bottom Girl

Same rickety folding tables with red and blue stools. Same jukebox, which had appeared during my junior year. It had been enjoyed until it became tradition for some joker to play “Cotton Eye Joe” on repeat every single day. I wondered if the administration had removed that particular song from the playlist.

Kids were pouring into the space, talking at full volume, jockeying for spots. The lunch ladies and gentlemen, I noted, were unveiling the day’s culinary specials. Spaghetti, salad, and dinner rolls.

“Excuse me, Ms. Cicero?” A woman in a cat sweater and dangly cat earrings approached.

I glanced over my shoulder. “Huh? I mean, yes?” I was Ms. Cicero. I was a teacher. Not a troublemaking student.

“Principal Eccles would like to have a word with you,” Miss Kitty said.

Okay, maybe I was also a troublemaker.

“Me?” I squeaked.

“She said it would only take a minute. I’m Lois, by the way. I work in the front office.”

“Nice to meet you, Lois.”

Lois led the way into the office and pointed at the long wooden bench that I remembered was for troublemakers. “You can have a seat right there. She’ll be with you in a minute.”

Reluctantly, I sat. I tried to keep my focus on the floor. But the door opened, and I looked up. Jake was wearing nice-fitting khakis and a polo shirt somewhere between silver and blue. He’d shaved, trimmed his hair. But the ink down both his arms still said nothing but “bad boy.”

“Hey, Lo. Got anything in my mailbox?” he asked, juggling a cup of coffee and a file folder.

“Welcome back, Jake,” Lois said, hopping up from her desk to paw through a mailbox on the back wall. “Kids giving you a hard time yet?”

“Nah.”

He glanced my way and flashed me that dirty, bad boy grin. “Well, well. I’d say I didn’t expect to see you here, Mars. But I’d be lying.”

Lois handed him a few papers. “Oh, leave her alone. It’s her first day,” she clucked.

“I wasn’t sure if I was doing this right,” I said gesturing at the bench. “You had a lot more experience than me in the day.”

“Maybe sometime we can compare experiences,” he said with a wink. He left, and Lois picked up a fundraising flyer and fanned herself.

“If I was twenty years younger, not married, and more flexible…”

I knew the feeling.

13

Marley

Dr. Lindsay Eccles was a far less terrifying figure than I imagined. Instead of a stern dictator in a suit, she wore cargo pants and a sleek black shell top with purple reading glasses on top of her salt and pepper curls.

“Marley.” She greeted me with her hands extended, and I didn’t know what to do, so I took them both and made a weird little curtsy. Had I lost the ability to people? “So good of you to stop in. I just wanted to have a quick chat.”

“Sure, no problem,” I said, wiping my palms on the seat of my shorts.

Following her into the office, I was hit with a subtle citrusy scent. There were houseplants on every flat surface and a small fish tank crammed in a corner next to shelves holding books, art, and knickknacks.

It didn’t feel like the stern disciplinarian space my principal, Mr. Fester—who looked exactly as he sounded—occupied. He was old-school and of the belief that any expression of creativity was one step away from mutiny. I remember running into him at a trampoline park a few years after graduation and being shocked to realize that he had a family and grandkids…and a smile.

Principal Eccles sat behind her desk and gestured for me to do the same.

My bare thighs touched the vinyl upholstery of the chair, and I wondered if this was a trap to prove that my shorts were too short.

“I wanted to see if you had any questions or concerns for me with this being your first teaching position?”