Lessons Learned (9 page)

“Just write me a short autobiography,” I announced to the class as they shuffled through their backpacks in search of pen and paper. Some muttered they couldn’t believe they had to work on the first day of school, but I ignored them while I walked up and down the aisles of desks.

“You look especially lovely today, Miss Bray.”

I grinned down at Matt. “And you have especially lovely handwriting. I have to ask. Why are my first two rows filled with football players?”

“Coach requires it.”

“Coach thinks we won’t pay attention if we sit anywhere else,” Patrick said. I couldn’t remember which position he played. Running back, maybe. “How’s that porch, Miss Bray?”

I smiled at him. “The porch is great.  It needs some new rocking chairs, I think, but it’s beautiful. You guys did a great job restoring it.”

The bell rang, and one class flowed seamlessly to the next. By the time lunch rolled around, I was starving and ready to get off my feet. I collapsed into my chair just as Lucas walked inside the classroom.

“Still alive?”

“Barely. My feet are killing me.”

He leaned against my desk. “Well, that’s because you’re forcing your toes into those god-awful heels.” Looking down at my shoes, he allowed his eyes to linger just a bit longer than necessary.

Men.

“You love my shoes.”

“Yes, I do.” He pulled a chair closer to my desk and placed a sandwich bag on top of it. “It’s from the cafeteria. I’ve been assured their peanut butter and jelly is the best.”

Over lunch, we talked to each other about our mornings, and we agreed it was great Tommy required his football team to sit near the front of the class. Lucas’s second period class had been the worst, which wasn’t unexpected considering they were freshmen.

Lucas finished his sandwich and tossed the bag into my trashcan. “They try so hard to be cool.  I’ve never taught freshmen, but I had no idea they could be so immature.”

“At least they’ll talk to you. I could barely get my seniors to say a word.”

“Be thankful.” He smirked.

Suddenly, his expression softened. “How are you doing, really?”

Even though he didn’t know why, he had to know I’d be anxious about today.

“I’m good,” I replied honestly. “I was nervous this morning, but it’s been okay so far. What about you?”

“I’m good, too. At least the kids are respectful here. If my biggest problem is a bunch of loud-mouthed freshmen, then I’ll consider this school year a success.”

The bell rang, and we both groaned.

“I’d forgotten how quickly time flies during lunch.”

“And your planning period!” We both laughed as he rose from his seat. “Thanks for lunch. That was sweet of you.”

“I’m a sweet guy,” Lucas said with a heart-stopping grin. “Have a good rest of the day.”

My fourth and final class of the day was more energetic and far more curious than the previous ones. I was happy to see two familiar faces as both Matt and Patrick dutifully took their seats in the front row. They probably needed an elective and assumed creative writing would be an easy course.

“You’re originally from Sycamore Falls?” A student asked after I’d finished going over the syllabus.

“Yes, I am.”

“And you came back?” Howie was another football player. “What would possess you to come back to this place?”

I smiled because, once upon a time, I’d been just like them. I had been so ready to leave this town behind and venture out into the world. It would have been hard for me to believe someone would actually escape and willingly return.

“Sycamore Falls isn’t so bad,” I said, knowing they’d disagree. The class didn’t disappoint, and the debate continued until I finally told them to write their thoughts about their hometown in a two-hundred word essay due on Wednesday.

A redhead in the back promptly raised her hand. “Do we have to read these aloud?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea! Yes, please plan to read these aloud on Wednesday.”

The groans were deafening.

After class was dismissed, I tiredly slumped into my chair. Kicking off my heels, I wiggled my toes and then breathed a sigh of relief.

I did it.

I had survived the first day of school, and I’d done it without a panic attack, a flashback, or one single tear.

I spent my afternoon sitting in my living room, listening to 80s monster ballads on my iPod
®
, and grading my first period autobiographies. I was humming along with Bon Jovi when I heard a thunderous knock coming from the kitchen.  Tossing my pen and papers aside, I raced toward the back door. 

“Hey,” I said, smiling at my unexpected visitor. He was wearing his Sycamore Panthers pullover. Mabel had been right. The medium really did fit him perfectly.

“Hey you. I’ve been knocking forever.”

I laughed, pulling the buds from my ears. “Sorry, I was just grading papers.”

“It’s okay.” He shuffled his feet nervously. “Would you sit on the porch with me?”

I smiled. He loved my porch almost as much as I did. Happy to leave my grading behind, I followed him outside, letting the screen door slam behind me.

“Don’t get mad, but I bought you something.”

He stepped aside, and there, hanging from the beams, was a beautiful porch swing rocking gently in the breeze.

“Oh . . .” I whispered in amazement.

“They were on clearance down at the hardware store,” Lucas explained. “I know you talked about getting some new rocking chairs, but I saw this and thought maybe . . .”

I couldn’t believe it. Growing up, I’d always wanted a swing, but Grandma didn’t like them. She’d always preferred her old wicker rocking chairs.

“If it matters, you can just consider it a thank you for the pullover.”

“Lucas, that sweatshirt was twenty bucks.”

Laughing quietly, he sat down on the porch swing, pushing off gently with his legs. “Aubrey told me you’d probably fight me, which is why I installed it before I knocked on your door. I was afraid you’d hear the drill. Lucky for me, you had your iPod buds planted in your ears.”

It was far too expensive of a gift, and I knew I shouldn’t accept it. It was also the most amazing gift anyone had ever given me, and it was beautiful and looked perfect on my porch.

I was so torn.

“Just come sit with me, Sarah.”

Unable to resist, I sat down beside him on the swing. He smiled at me, and together, we pushed. The creaking sound of the chains and wood was quite possibly the most tranquil sound I’d ever heard. Closing my eyes, I relaxed against the seat of the swing as we swayed.

“You love it,” Lucas said softly.

“How can you tell?”

“You’re smiling.”

Sighing contently, my eyes fluttered open as I slid my hand along the smooth wood.

“Thank you,” I finally whispered, “but you really shouldn’t have. It’s too much.”

“Not if it makes you happy.”

His bright blue eyes gazed into mine, and we shared a smile.

I
was
happy, and I knew, deep in my heart, that it had absolutely nothing to do with the porch swing.

“My hometown is the boringest place in the world,” Howie announced while reading his oral presentation of the writing class. He received a few “amens” and I had to bite my tongue to keep from reminding him that ‘boringest’
wasn’t a word. It was just the first assignment, and I’d told them I was grading on content and not grammar.

I had to bite hard.

Most of the essays had been much of the same—full of bad grammar and negative perceptions about their hometown. The sad fact was everything they’d stated in their presentations was true. Sycamore Falls wasn’t culturally diverse and our movie theater did have three screens. The nearest big city was over an hour away, and Internet access was spotty in some areas of the county.

It was all true, and I told them as I walked around to the front of my desk.

“You’re right.  Sycamore Falls is very sheltered from the rest of the world.”

Caleb, a quiet student in the third row raised his hand. “So, Miss Bray, if everything we’ve said is true, why did you come back?”

At that moment, twenty pairs of curious, expectant eyes turned my way. This class was just too intelligent and inquisitive. It wouldn’t take long before one of them asked their parents, or searched the web, and that’s when I’d be asked the questions I really didn’t want to answer.

“Because, sometimes, you need sheltering,” I replied softly.

Thankfully, the bell rang, and the students groaned with disappointment when I dismissed them for the day. I had just sat down at my desk when I heard a quiet voice echo from the front row.

“Miss Bray?”

I looked up to find Matt staring at me, his deep brown eyes sad and distant.

“Yes, Matt?”

“Do you think it’s possible we’re
too
sheltered from the rest of the world?”

I smiled softly and closed my lesson planner.

“I thought the exact thing when I was your age.”

“But not now?”

I sighed and leaned back against my chair. “This might surprise you, but Sycamore Falls isn’t nearly as sheltered as it used to be.”

“Maybe not materialistically,” Matt said with a shrug, “but what about socially? Did you hear about the all-district punter from Nashville whose parents wanted to move here to work at the clinic? His dad is a pediatrician. They even bought a house in town. They were here for one week, Miss Bray.
One week
.”

“Why just a week?”

“Because Sycamore Falls didn’t roll out the welcoming mat for a black family,” Matt said quietly.

I wasn’t surprised. A quick glance around my classroom proved nothing had changed when it came to diversity in Sycamore Falls.

“People form opinions, and it can be hard to get them to change their minds. Unfortunately, it happens everywhere.” I offered him a sad smile. “You know, Matt, you could have written about this in today’s assignment. This would have been a fantastic class discussion.”

He chuckled, but it wasn’t a humorous laugh.

“Right,” he mumbled. “Don’t you know, Miss Bray? Teenagers are the most opinionated of all, especially if you don’t conform to the norm. You can’t be different. Not if you want to be accepted, anyway.”

Matt slumped in his desk, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was really bothering him. As the quarterback of the football team, the boy was worshipped at Sycamore High. Girls flocked to him and he was obviously the most popular guy on the team.

“Are you saying you’re different, Matt?”

His expression turned somber.

“I’m the high school quarterback who’s dating the captain of the cheerleading squad.  I am the biggest walking stereotype, and I play my role every single day.”

I was so confused, but I didn’t get the chance to dig deeper. Aubrey suddenly appeared in my doorway, asking if I was ready to go. With the first football game in two days, Tommy was spending extra time on the field, leaving Aubrey alone most nights. I’d invited her and the baby over for dinner and an 80s movie marathon.

“I’m going to be late for practice,” Matt muttered, grabbing his jacket and books. “See you later, Miss Bray.” He muttered a polite hello to Aubrey and ran out the door.