1
Winnie
“Mom,whyareyoutaking all the pictures down?” My seven-year-old, Birdie, sat on top of my desk, her feet swinging and hitting the metal sidewall of the desk repeatedly. “They’re pretty. Most of them. Cara Cummings couldn’t paint a flower to save her life.”
I didn’t have time to scold my kid about being polite—or about not repeating every phrase her Uncle Gabe uttered under his breath. I was running late for the single mom’s club that Gabe had talked me into attending, and there was no way I was going to arrive on time. I had a lump of emotion in my throat that had been there since Principal Stand had lambasted me for daring to hang artwork on the wall outside my room. I didn’t have time to cry either, though.
The woman was standing outside her office, hands on hips, watching me. Her fitted pencil skirt and pristine blouse mocked me as I ignored the paint Jeremy Green had smeared down the front of my dress. Principal Stand wore heels to school, and she managed to stand perfectly still in them while scolding me every single day for whatever infraction she thought I’d made that day. Not a single shift to alert me that her feet hurt. She was emotionless and cold, except when she caught me alone. Then she let her anger out to flex.
I grabbed another handful of paintings, careful to not ruin them so the kids could still give them to their parents. “Principal Stand doesn’t want them hanging up.”
Birdie scoffed. “Uncle Gabe said that Principal Stand has a giant stick up her—”
“Birdie!” I moved in front of her and dropped the paintings on the desk behind her. “Uncle Gabe is an adult, so he gets away with saying things that a kid has no business saying.”
“That’s not fair. I should be able to say whatever I want.” She pursed her lips and narrowed her dark brown eyes at me. She had something sure to scandalize on the tip of her tongue, but I didn’t have the time to punish her before dropping her off at Gabe’s, where she would surely have the time of her life.
I put my hand over her lips and shook my head. “Whatever you’re about to say, Birdie, zip it. I’ve got to finish taking these paintings down and get you over to Uncle Gabe’s.”
Rushing back into the hallway, I found Principal Stand even closer, her eyes on the few paintings I hadn’t removed yet. She looked me over and raised her eyebrows. “I know you’re just the art teacher, Ms. Lane, but the teachers’ handbook is very clear about dressing professionally.”
I pulled the last of the paintings down and forced my face into something resembling a smile. “Painting was very messy today.”
She ran her eyes over the wall and tipped her chin higher. “Clean up the wall before you leave for the day.”
“Principal Stand, I have a meeting—”
“I don’t care. You made a mess, so you’ll clean it up.” She strutted away, never looking back, knowing without a doubt that I’d do whatever she told me.
I put the paintings on my desk, ignoring the look Birdie gave me, and hurried back into the hall to pull down the few pieces of sticky tac that had been left behind. The school day had long been over by the time I gathered my bags and started urging Birdie towards our car. In my rush, I had left the lid half-off Birdie’s sippy cup. I didn’t realize that the weird sensation I was experiencing was juice leaking all down my front until I was standing at the car.
Birdie climbed in the back of the car, settled into her booster seat, and buckled herself in while I watched to make sure she’d done it correctly. “You smell like fruit punch.”
“Yeah, well, I feel like I’ve been punched, so it’s fitting.” I tossed our bags in the passenger seat and sat behind the wheel, stroking the worn leather before attempting to start the engine. It started on the first try, and I thought maybe my day was going to get better. I was desperate for a change in luck.
Not only did I have paint all over me, fruit punch sticking to my front, and the urge to sob into my pillow, but I’d also managed to grab the panties with no elastic left in the waistband. Halfway through my morning, I’d given up on holding them up and tossed them in my bag to throw away later. I was a mess, and it wasn’t even all that abnormal from every other day of my life.
“Where are you going?” Birdie fiddled with something in the seat next to her and grunted. “My cereal is stuck, and I’m close to letting it have a piece of my mind.”
I grinned until I felt an explosion of cheerios hit me in the back of the head and watched them spray all over the front of the car. Sighing, I turned onto Gabe’s street and immediately had to slam on the brakes when a cat ran across the street with an angry-looking woman chasing after it. I realized belatedly that I’d forgotten to put on my own seatbelt as I slid forward and hit my head on the steering wheel. It wasn’t hard enough to do any real damage, but it was enough to leave a mark, I knew.
Birdie grunted, and a hefty splash of her fruit punch hit the back of my head before she let a swear word fly. “Damn!”
I watched in shock as the cat-chaser flipped me the bird and kept going. I took a deep breath and pushed the rearview mirror so it was facing the other side of the car. I had no interest in seeing myself. “Language, Birdie.”
“Well, Ms. Kovac just about killed us! I had a mouth full of juice and gum. She’s always chasing that cat and yelling at people. Uncle Gabe says it’s because she doesn’t have a man anymore. Hers left her for Uncle Gabe’s ex-boyfriend, Ryan.”
I drove the rest of the short distance to Gabe’s driveway before parking the car and looking back at my child. “First of all, you know too much about Ms. Kovac. Second of all, you know too much about Uncle Gabe’s ex. And third of all, why do you have gum? You know you can’t have gum.”
She unfastened her seatbelt and sighed dramatically. “I got gum stuck in your hair one time, Mom.”
“And that was enough, Birdie.”
Gabe rushed out of his house, calling for Birdie. “I have the newest season of The Bachelor all cued up, Bird! Come on, girlfriend.”
I opened the door to let her run to Gabe and watched as he threw her over his wide shoulder. She giggled wildly and slapped his back, while he spun her around. A moment of peace washed over me as I watched the two of them together. He might’ve been a bad influence, but he was there for her when her own father wasn’t.
Then, his words registered. “You are not watching that show with my daughter! Gabe, she is too young and that show is too much. I swear, you’re going to give me—”