The bell rings and third period files in like they own the place, because they do.
There are new faces this year and new names I'm still learning. There are kids who slouch and shine and swear up and down they did the reading. But it's the same room with the same scarred desks. Today I have the same battered copy ofGatsbyriding against my palm.
The building smells like fresh paint now instead of cedar and smoke. They rebuilt the north wing over the summer, and you'd never know it burned unless you were the kind of person who counts the exits out of habit.
I still count them. Some habits don't pack up and leave. But for all the sameness surrounding me, I’m different now. I’m calm, happy and settled. Here's the thing nobody warns you about being safe, you stop noticing you have it.
But there are signs. I don't sleep with a chair under the doorknob anymore. My kitchen is unpacked. There's a real curtain on the back window now. Though, I left Jordan’s number on the inside of the cabinet because some things are just too special to change.
It’s amazing how this community has become a family to me. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.
"Okay." I tap the book against my palm. "Page ninety. Somebody tell me what the green light isactuallyabout… and I swear, if anybody says 'a dock,' it's a pop quiz Friday."
Laughter bubbles through the class. But the door bursts open before anyone can guess wrong. It's our principal. She’s wearing the particular smile of a woman who knows something I don't and that isn’t typically her style.
“A visitor, welcome.” I give her a nod.
"Miss Summers. We're moving you to the gym for the all-school assembly. Bring your kids."
“What? I’m sorry, I didn’t see it on the schedule. We will be right down.”
Half the room is already up, because there is no sentence on earth a teenager loves more thanwe're moving to the gym.
When we enter, the gym is loud and warm and packed to the rafters. My class scatters up into the bleachers in an instant. Meanwhile, I plant myself at the bottom like always and turn to keep an eye on a few of the usual suspects.
I count heads as they find their seats. All twenty-nine are present and accounted for. Then I wonder what the assembly is about.It isn’t homecoming week and we aren’t in the middle of a fundraiser. I wonder how I missed the schedule change.
Down on the floor there's a microphone and a banner in the school's colors that reads WHISPERING PINES FIRE DEPARTMENT. Lined up in front of it, in dress blues I have never once seen any of them wear, is the whole crew. My eyes move from Zain to Gabriel, Brady, then Lance. Tessa from dispatch is here too.
What in the world? Jordan didn’t mention a safety training at the school today. But it seems odd that he is the only one not here.
Then I notice that there's a gap in the middle of that line. My stomach does a slow, suspicious roll. It’s just one empty space exactly the size of a man I kissed goodbye this morning. The same man who told me he had a long shift but did not breathe a single word of this school visit.
Our school principal taps the mic and the chatter in the gym quiets. "Whispering Pines. A year ago, this building caught fire while every one of you was inside it."
The gym goes quiet, fast, and my body tenses with the memory.
She continues, "But we are so lucky that our story didn’t end in tragedy. Every one of you walked out and that is a testament to our community. But today, we are going to say a special thank you to the people on the front lines who risked everything to keep us safe."
The place detonates. Kids stomp the bleachers until the whole structure shakes under my feet. Their enthusiasm brings tears to my eyes and I cheer and shout along with the crowd. I’m so grateful to be a part of this community.
She taps the mic and continues, "I'm going to hand it over to one of our own. Maya? Can you come up here please?"
Maya, a junior now, walks with confidence toward the center of the gym. It’s hard to believe that she’s the same girl who lost her way in the stairwell that day. I beam with pride as she takes the microphone like she was born holding it.
Maya holds up a hand and the room falls silent. "A year ago, I got lost in the smoke." Her voice doesn't shake, mine would. "I could have had a very different outcome if it weren’t for somebody who came back in to find me. She didn’t have to, she wasn't a firefighter. She was my English teacher."
Oh, no.My eyes go glassy.
"Miss Summers, can you come down here?"
I shake my head no on instinct. But every head in the gym turns to find me anyway. A year ago the thought of a thousand pairs of eyes finding me would have stopped my heart cold. I'd have turned away from it the way I turned away from a reporter's camera in a parking lot. I was certain that being seen was the same thing as being found.
But I'm not hiding from anyone anymore. I won’t ever have to again. If anyone wants to get to me, they’re going to have to come through Jordan and this entire town first. So I walk down. Maya hugs me hard the second I reach the bottom.
I whisper, "I am going to kill you for not giving me a heads-up."
She laughs in response, then speaks into the mic again. "There's actually one more person who wanted to say thank you.”
