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I walked toward the back of the room, and April picked her backpack up from the floor, putting it in the open chair beside her.
What the heck,I wanted to ask. Just because I called her out for almost injuring the dog and me, I was now public enemy number one? I had helped her in the lunchroom, after all. And I’d yelled at Tate for picking on her—he hadn’t so much as looked at her in English class since Monday. Whatever. If she wanted to play it that way, she was more than welcome to. I didn’t have to care.
I didn’t have to be bothered.
Not by some new girl who barely knew me at all.
I shook it off and sat at the table behind her. She kept her eyes straight ahead. Fine.Fine.
A couple more people filtered into the room, and the teacher stood in front of the whiteboard. “This is our group,” she said. April and I were the only ones there from the Academy.
She uncapped a marker, the plastic squeaking, and pressed the tip to the board.
Janice Miller, RN-BSN.
“My name is Janice Miller. You can call me Mrs. Miller or Janice. I worked in doctors’ offices as an LPN, licensed practical nurse, for twenty years. Once my kids graduated high school, I went back to school too and got my LPN to RN and then my RN to BSN—Bachelor of Science in Nursing. There are going to be a lot of abbreviations coming at you, so I encourage you to always have plenty of notetaking paper and a pen.”
I reached into my backpack and got some out.
“We come from all different walks in this class, much like the people you’ll be serving as a CNA. Some of you are high school students just looking to fill an afternoon. For some, this will be your first real job in medicine, a building block to a fulfilling career. For others, a career as a CNA is the goal, and trust me, it can be very rewarding.”
Ahead of me, April nodded. I wondered which one she was—if this was a way to pass the time or a means to an end.
“Over the next twelve weeks, we’ll learn some of the basics of caring for others as a CNA, you’ll take a certification exam, and then you’ll get hands-on experience at a clinical site to become certified in the state of California. Any questions?”
Someone up front raised her hand and said, “I don’t have a sitter next Friday. Can I bring the materials home?”
“We allow two absences as long as you complete the makeup work. Any more than that, and you’ll have to take the class over again.”
A few other people asked questions about the schedule or clinicals, and I just sat back watching, observing. Then Janice said, “Let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves. Tell us your name and why you’re interested in becoming a CNA.”
I sat back in my chair, listening as the people up front told their stories. She was right; all of them were different. The mom from earlier was expecting a second child and wanted a way to earn extra money. Some were college students wanting patient care experience for med school applications. One guy said he needed a job and this one paid decently. And then it was April’s turn.
She turned sideways in her seat, facing the group as she said, “My name’s April Adams. Someone in my family suffered a TBI a few years back, and the nurses were like a rock for my family. I want to give that to someone else, and this is a great way to gain experience before nursing school.”
The room grew quiet as I digested that information. I wasn’t sure what a TBI was... I was so busy thinking it over, I almost didn’t realize everyone was waiting on me to go. I cleared my throat and said, “Hey, I’m Diego. I signed up because I didn’t want to get a CDL.”
Everyone laughed. Everyone except for April.
Janice seemed amused. “Fair enough. Hopefully you made the right choice.” She winked. “Next?”
Once everyone was done with introductions, Janice passed out our textbooks, and we got started on the first section: professional communication.
I’d never been in a three-hour long lecture before, but the time seemed to drag on and on. I was glad when she told us to close our books and pack up.
Now I just had football practice, and then it was time to let off some steam at the party on Seaton Beach.
Nine
April
After things went so badlyat lunch on Monday, it seemed safer to share the locker room with Sadie. Now I knew that had been a mistake. We hadn’t talked much throughout the week—she watched her show, I worked on homework—but on Friday, she took out her earbuds and said, “There’s a party tonight.”
She said it like pointing out the sky was blue or that skunks smelled bad. So I wasn’t really sure how to reply. But then she added, “It might not be completely lame to go.”
I still wasn’t quite sure what to say, so I just nodded.
“I can pick you up,” she said again in that matter-of-fact way.
