Page 58 of Can’t Say No

“I really am sorry for,” she gestures vaguely to the space between us, and I can think of a handful of things to fill it. “All of it, I guess.”

Students file past us, but for just a moment, it’s only her–sincere and open, and a little raw around the edges.

The half smile. The sag in her shoulders. She’s worn down.

Two sides of the same coin, both grieving the life we thought we’d have.

“I’m sorry too, Miss James.”

Those tired eyes meet mine, and I know I’ll do everything in my power to bring them back to life.

22

DELANEY

Mrs. Crane has foolishly turned the reins over to me for one section of freshmen choir. Forty fourteen year olds just trying to check off their music credit needed to graduate, with a dumb, publicly scorned pop star in charge.

It should be a fucking nightmare. They're loud in a very unproductive way, most of them can’t carry a tune to save their lives, and, even though I’ve been at Ridgecrest for weeks now, they can’t seem to stop sneaking out their phones to take pictures of me.

It should be a nightmare, but I love it.

I’ve been practicing all their warmups on my keyboard at home and even taught them a new one. Mrs. Crane let me pick out a few songs for them to work on, and all the students raved over my choices. I can say with certainty that the rush I got from their approval is better than any high I’ve ever gotten from performing.

“Miss James, at first I thought it was gonna be weird having you here,” a bright eyed girl named Jessie gushes, “but it’s actually cool. You’re, like, a really good teacher.”

Her surrounding girl squad nods, and sure, maybe they’re feeding me a line so I’ll let them cut out of class a few minutes early, but damn it, my ego grows a few sizes under their praise.

“Y’all make it easy,” I drawl. “I like being here.”

The words tumble out before I can decide if they’re honest or not. As the bell rings and I join the horde of students hustling down the hallway, I decide it is true.

I like the nostalgia seeped into the bones of the building. I like the easy camaraderie between the teachers, always ready to roll their eyes at Rutledge. And I like the students. They’ve weaseled their way through the cracks in my walls, and I’ve found myself looking forward to working with them.

Teenagers get a bad rep. Yeah, they can be a little mouthy, a little sneaky, and awfully stubborn. But more than anything, they’re all just a little misunderstood. And I sure as hell know what that feels like.

I hustle out with the students toward the faculty lounge. After weeks of crappy coffee, I caved and ordered a fancy espresso machine for the lounge, and it’s been a hit.

“Fucking hell,” a disgruntled voice says as I enter the room. Wells smashes the buttons on the coffee maker aggressively.

With a laugh, I rush in to help him. “Here, let me.” A few quick adjustments, and we’re met with the gentle hum of the espresso machine doing its job.

Wells blinks up at me. “Appreciate it.”

For a moment, I think he’s gonna take his coffee and run, but he lingers at the doorway while I reset the machine for my cup.

“You’ve been real good for Ridgecrest.” Wells nods, almost like he’s talking to himself.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna get all sappy on me big guy. It’s just an upgraded coffee maker.”

His pointed look makes me squirm a little, and I try to shrug off the feeling that he can see deep into my soul.

“But it’s not just a fancy coffee machine, is it? That new bus, the electric Blue Bird? I know we didn’t land a sustainability grant or whatever bullshit Rutledge told us.” Wells gestures to his phone, continuing, “And I got an email this morning letting me know that Speedo is sending gear for my whole swim team. I know you’re the one behind that. And hell, I know it’s shitty that your team had to pay for you to be here and all, but have you seen the upgrades they have planned? Construction is starting over Christmas break. That’s all because of you”

I turn my attention to my drink, suddenly fascinated by latte art. “It’s no big deal,” I mumble into the golden foam. “I like being able to help out.”

Wells grunts from the doorway. “Like I said Delaney, you’re good for Ridgecrest.”

He turns on his heel and I’m left with a warm spot in my chest, an ache so tender it’s nearly painful.