Page 8 of Curse the Flame

CROSSROADS

PRESENT DAY

WILLOW

I’m contemplating quitting my job because I need more trees in my life, and as ridiculous as that sounds, I’m already halfway to saying ‘go for it’.

Six weeks ago, right at the end of the final marking period of the school year, I was thinking about how stifled I’ve been lately, living in Manhattan, when an ad popped up on my phone while I was scrolling.

It was promoting an apartment for rent in Central New Jersey. Only a train ride away, but within driving distance of countless parks, shopping malls, and restaurants. I could live among the greenery, but never be so removed from civilization that a city girl would feel out of her element.

With housing the way it is these days, I doubted I would get it. For the cheap rent that was posted, it would be a battle royale just to view the listing—and that’s assuming it was real and not a scam.

But it was real. And after I drove out of the city and into the suburbs to check it out, Mr. Z—my new landlord—offered me a two-month trial before I signed a longer lease. I won the apartment games, and now I’m the proud renter of a three-room condo on the second floor of my building.

I like it. It came fully furnished, from the kitchen table to the couch in the living room, plus the bedroom set and a four-foot-tall standing mirror perched in front of the side wall next to the desk. Even better for someone who’s lived with roommates her entire adult life. I brought what I owned personally when I moved out, and I didn’t have to buy much more than food to fill the provided fridge.

I have enough money in the bank after my parents’ unfortunate and way-too-untimely deaths last year that I don’t need to work the upcoming school year. And if my desire to escape New York and surround myself with some peace is a delayed reaction after it hit me—really hit me—that I was on my own for the first time in my life… yeah. I get it.

I have friends. My girlfriends from my years at the Spence School who have grown into some of the best friends I know. I also have Daphne, my beloved older cousin, and the last family I have left. I have my colleagues, too, but lately… lately I’ve been craving a change.

I’ve been craving adventure.

Now, I love teaching. I love my students. I even love the charter school most days, though I can definitely live without the countless staff meetings that should’ve been emails, the parents who cross boundaries all of the time, and the administration’s insistence that using computers and trusting AI will somehow make everyone’s lives easier.

Really? When it rots your brain and pollutes the environment? No, thanks.

Not for Willow Ackerly.

But I’ve come to expect it. Every August, they roll out something new, insist it’s easy to use, then spend the next six months sending increasingly desperate instructions that us teachers ignore because, at the end of the day, the kids are all that matter.

Still, the school has been good to me. I would miss my kids if I left, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find a school local to where I am now who needs a grade school English teacher.

But that’s part of my problem. As an English teacher, I explore so many worlds with my kids. My students read about enchanted forests, hidden kingdoms, cursed castles, gods, monsters, and girls who step into strange lands and discover that—thanks to fate—they were meant for something more. Somewhere along the line, I began to wonder if there was something like that for me.

The adventure. The romance. True love and a man who worships me the way that I would adore him. I want my own fairy tale, and considering I’m a twenty-eight-year-old virgin with a cousin who runs off any guy who’s ever been interested in me in case they hurt me while I’m too oblivious to even know they care… yeah. Maybe my job isn’t the worst of my problems.

Certainly doesn’t help, though.

Ugh.

I glance down at my phone, frowning as I read the subject line:

ATTN: Returning faculty confirmation required

I already skimmed the same email I get every July so I knew exactly what to expect. Administration needs my confirmation by end of day on Friday.

It’s Tuesday, and that means I have a few more days to reply. Since I have a tendency to forget things, I put a reminder in my calendar to answer the email one way or another on Friday. Then, exiting my email, I return to the page I was looking at when the mail notification popped up on the top of my phone.

It’s a job listing I found that seems kind of promising.

ASSISTANT NATURALIST — SEASONAL POSITION

It’s located at a nature preserve twenty-eight minutes away from my condo. On the one hand, it pays considerably less than teaching does. It doesn’t have any health benefits, and when it says seasonal, I’m pretty sure that means that it’s summer only. Still… it does sound promising.

With my legs curled up beneath me as I lean back into the couch, I continue to scroll.

Oh, look. Here’s a listing for an outdoor education program. Ooh, and another for a botanical garden. I see one for a state park the would require me to wear khaki shorts as part of the uniform.