Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
I wasn’t entirely sure how to react, other than…I appreciated her. She had a couple things very wrong about me, but that was because I was good at hiding everything I hated about myself when she was near. So much for me being honest.
For the record, I wasn’t fond of children in general one bit. I did prefer them to adults, though. But that didn’t include my students. Teenagers were tiny adults hopped up on hormones. Pipsqueak was just different.
“You’re a good kid, Pipsqueak. I appreciate you not just saying I’m nice or something. You think through your answers too.”
She quirked a sly little smirk. “I’m not sure you are nice. You’re nice to me, but you have a reputation, Mister.”
Oh hell. I pointed to myself, surprised and somewhat dreading to hear more. “I have a reputation?”
This couldn’t be good. Especially if the reputation went beyond my school district, which was just north of where Pipsqueak went to school here in Downtown.
Pipsqueak blushed and grinned impishly. “This boy I’m gonna marry has a cousin at your school. She says she doesn’t know what you hate more—your job or your students.”
There was quite a bit to unpack there. “First of all, you don’t know who you’re going to marry. Second of all, I don’t hate my job. I hate how ungrateful teenagers are, particularly the ones at my school. They don’t know how lucky they are to get a good education. They’d rather play around with Myspace and Facebook.” I paused. “Did you know that my students get their own laptops? Meanwhile, there are hundreds of students at Camas High who’re still lugging around books from the seventies.”
She hummed contemplatively. “So you grew up poor.”
I did a quick double take at her and frowned. “Pardon?”
“We always react to things that some take for granted, things we wanted when we were little.” She shrugged. “That’s been me my whole life—with normal people, I mean. I’m always seeing how easy everyday stuff is to most people, and then I’m here, freaking clueless.” She snorted softly. “I was at the store with Mom yesterday, and she asked me to grab a few bags of chips. Normal, right? But I froze. I didn’t know if she expected three or four bags, because technically everything between three and eight can be a few, depending on how you define several and many—and also, depending on how many you’re feeding. A ‘few’ in my family is a crapload to others. So, I just stood there and stared at her until I started crying.”
I let out a breath and nodded slowly. “The grass is always greener.”
“Where?” She became the picture of a question mark.
It was endearing.
“The grass is always greener on the other side,” I elaborated. “It’s a saying. We tend to want what we don’t have.”
“Ah. Yes. It makes sense.” She dipped her chin and began drumming her fingers on her knees. “I have to go home, but you should make your students see what they have. Make them see they’re fortunate, rather than disliking them for having a fortune.”
There wasn’t much I could say in response. The kid had a valid point.
“I’ve reached my social interaction limit for the day,” she informed me and stood up. “The bottle, please? I’ll be back in a couple days with a new one. Aunt Britt and I are gonna do a new batch tomorrow. Now I’m just rambling, but I’m excited to try watermelon.”
I stifled a smile and extended the bottle. “Until next time, Pipsqueak.”
“Next time, Mister.” She offered a quick smile before she left.
Six
It turned out to be a good summer for me after all.
I spent my days working on my house, making plans for next semester, talking to Pipsqueak, working out with Ethan, and every now and then stopping by the Quinns’ house to check in with them.
At the end of July, our old house sold for $5,000 under the asking price, which was a good deal, considering the economy. We still made a decent profit.
Being on my own was slowly stitching up some of the wounds that’d been ripped open over the last couple of years. I didn’t pursue anyone new, even for anything casual, and, for the first time in ages, I felt comfortable. My past stayed in the past, and it helped that I was closing myself in and only spending time with people I already knew well.
When August rolled around, I experienced something I hadn’t felt since I’d first become a teacher, and it was the itch to go back to work. For which I could thank Pipsqueak. She made me want to return to a classroom full of students.
I was fully prepared to be disappointed when they once again proved how ungrateful they were, but I was going to give it an honest try. Even more than one. I wanted them to learn, and I wanted them to want it too. Whether I succeeded was partly up to me, so I couldn’t half-ass it.