When I look back toward Layla, she waves me over to introduce me to the other teachers, I’m sure.
I know I should make more of an effort with the rest of the staff, but it’s always been hard for me to make friends. Layla and Nate have made it surprisingly easy, but that’s very much not the case most of the time.
I make my way toward Layla and the other teachers, dragging my feet, when I hear, “Ms. Patel!” over the sound of the pop song playing.
Addie is headed straight for me.
She’s all pink in a dress, the exact shade of her hair, bubbly as ever, while her friend following her seems uncomfortable in a dress a size too big on her full frame.
“Hi, Addie, you look beautiful!”
She beams. “Thanks, so do you! I wanted you to meet my best friend, Emily. Emily, this is Ms. Patel, my art teacher, the one I was telling you about.”
Emily doesn’t seem impressed, frowning as she crosses her arms. “You’re the one who made Addie cry.”
“She did not make me cry. I just—” Addie starts, flustered. “I got emotional about my project, okay?”
I nod, understanding completely. “Art can do that to you.”
Emily raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, but I catch the amused twitch at the corner of her mouth when she looks back at Addie. I’m glad she has someone looking out for her.
Her art made her seem so alone.
“You came to the dance,” Addie says, changing the subject with a bounce on her heels. “I didn’t think you would.”
“Me neither,” I admit. “But Mrs. Carter talked me into chaperoning.”
Addie gives me a quick once-over. “You don’t look like a chaperone.”
“Thank you, Addie. That actually makes me feel better,” I say genuinely.
At least, according to Addie, I don’t look likethat muchof a mess.
We chat for a few minutes, mostly about the photo booth and how they’ve already taken three sets of pictures. Emily pretends to be above it all while, I think, secretly enjoying Addie’s energy.
They’re sweet together.
It almost makes me forget, for the time being, how anxious I am.
Until Addie stops telling her story and elbows Emily, nodding behind me.
When I glance back to see what they’re looking at, I see Nate Wesley standing by the doors, looking our way.
“Um…” Addie starts, but I’m barely listening.
He looksreally goodin a button-down blue shirt that I’m sure brings out his eyes up close.
When I look back at Addie, she’s giggling. “I think Coach Wesley thinks you look pretty, too, Ms. Patel.”
“Addie, stop,” Emily warns, already exhausted by Addie’s meddling.
“I sure do,” a confident voice says from behind me.
I turn to find Nate standing right there, his hands tucked into his slacks, and his hair a bit wind-swept, but still styled in a way that makes him look so—
And I was right. That isdefinitelyhis color.
Addie gasps, while her friend groans, but Nate just tips his head to them in acknowledgement. “Ladies.”
