By the time I’d cleaned my plate and Rita had made me up a bag of leftovers to take home, I still couldn’t shake the bright and colorful Ms. Winters.
Suddenly, the idea of going back to school with a teacher like that didn’t sound half bad.
Chapter 2
Reese
For a first grade teacher, recess is like a piece of paradise. I loved my job. It was my dream to teach little kids for as long as I could remember. But with the stress of my current living situation and stepping into a job mid-year, I found that those little breaks throughout the day couldn’t come fast enough.
I walked over to the classroom mirror and looked at myself. My hair in a pony tail, my blue knee-length dress adorned with double cherries. My gaze shot down to my high tops, with a cartoon sketch of the Mad Hatter on one shoe and the White Rabbit on the other. I wasn’t really sure why I was examining myself more closely than I normally did. I usually liked my style. I’d spent so many years being looked down on based on my curves and my quirky style that I’d learned not to give a fuck. People who judged me usually had issues accepting themselves anyway. But the way that the Sheriff had commented on it yesterday really seemed to get to me. I wasn’t sure why I cared about his opinion when I didn’t care about anyone else’s.
“This is Miss Winters’ classroom.” Katherine Ferron, the kindergarten teacher’s, voice rang from the hallway. I turned around and was shocked to see none other than the tall, dark and handsome Sheriff himself, standing there in his perfectly ironed uniform. I had to admit, there was something about seeing him dressed like that–hat tucked under his arm.
I smiled at how old-fashioned everyone in town was. That was one of the reasons I’d been so interested in the job. I was born and raised in California. Everything in my life was designed in a certain way, and me being, well, me, I’d never really belonged.
My mother was a famous model and when people found out I was her daughter, they would look at me like I had a second head. Greta Mcgrath was one of the most famous women in the nineties. She was on hundreds of magazine covers, she’d dated some of the most gorgeous men in the world, and she was the poster girl for what society labeled as a bombshell.
No one would have expected that her daughter would be plus-sized. But even though my mother had made her fortune in a superficial profession, she’d never once tried to make me what I wasn’t. She’d always encouraged me to be who I was. She was my hero. Always would be.
My father was a professor of ethics at Berkeley. A very average looking guy, but absolutely brilliant. I once asked how my mother, who could have chosen anyone, decided on my dad. She’d told me that she’d married someone that really saw her.
I remember from a very young age she always said: pick a man that challenges you and sees you, someone who thinks you are the fabric that holds their whole world together.
I smiled as I thought about my parents and how much they loved each other, before being brought back into the moment, face to face with the Sheriff.
“Well, hey there, Miss Winters,” he said, a warm yet uncomfortable smile trying to force itself on his face. I couldn’t help but laugh at his lame attempt of warmth and kindness. At least he was honest, something that needed to be admired, especially in a world full of liars.
“How can I help you, Sheriff?” I asked, walking back to my desk. I started moving my hands, shuffling papers back and forth, color coordinating crayons.
“Isn’t that kind of unproductive?” He asked, gesturing towards the Crayolas dangling from my fingers. I immediately put them down, smoothing my dress with my sweaty palms.
“Yes, I suppose it is, but it’s a silly thing that gives me comfort. It’s also important to set an example for the children.”
“How is teaching them to work hard and not smart good for them?” He asked, cocking his head to the side and staring at me. I was taken aback with how sweet he looked at that moment. His eyes inquisitive and his frown non-existent.
“Teaches them to place things back where they found them. To be organized.”
“Seems like a waste of time to me. They’re going to make a mess of it within five seconds.”
“Can I help you with anything, Sheriff? Or did you come here just to annoy me?” I asked, my hands now crossed at my chest.
“You ending the conversation?” He asked, gesturing at my arms. I looked down and noticed how my stance had elevated my chest, and I was now baring a little more cleavage than I’d ever intended to. I quickly dropped my arms.