Page 44 of Halo

Me too, partner.

Chapter 12

Leah

“If you can hear my voice, touch your nose. If you can hear my voice—”

“Touch your toes,” my class recites before dutifully tapping their noses before bending down to touch their shoes. When they stand back up, I have their focus—well, for at least a few more seconds. They know what’s about to happen. The room practically vibrates with anticipation.

“Are we listening, friends?” I cup my ears, glancing around the room, making sure I can see twenty-two pairs of eyes. “It is time … for … dismissal—”

The room breaks out into pandemonium. It's as if the promise of going home unleashes their inner mogwai—do not feed after midnight. Their giggles are feral, their sweet little voices crescendo into chaotic squeals, and in general, they act like a pack of rabid squirrels. Liliana is showing us her cartwheel—again—while Tamika insists on taking off her socks. Across the room, Ryland and Charlie are wearing their backpacks on their chests and are now charging at one another like a pair of sumo wrestlers.

Grady, however, stands quietly in the car-rider line, his oversized backpack nearly swallowing his small frame whole. He absently tugs at his messy blond hair, nudging his glasses higher on his nose. As his classmates buzz around him, Grady retreats further into himself, his eyes trained to the ground.

It’s been a few weeks since I met with his mother about the challenges he’s been facing in school. Unfortunately, Grady continues to struggle with retaining information we’ve covered repeatedly, and while his classmates are becoming more confident with letters and sight words, he still hesitates when asked to spell his own name.

He needs to be evaluated. I’ve contacted Tiffany twice since Grady’s altercation last week, and I even emailed her over the weekend with no response.

I may need to contact Nick.

Eventually.

As a last-ditch effort before I need to escalate things, I slipped a letter into Grady’s take-home folder this afternoon, hoping we can get the ball rolling.

By some act of God—or possibly empty promises of disappointing me—I manage to wrangle my class into a single-file line and get them where they need to be.

I join the rest of the dismissal team outside for car rider duty. Chelsea and I take our usual spots alongside a handful of other teachers, scanning name tags and helping students identify their vehicles as the pickup line snakes through the parking lot. Every few seconds, another car rolls forward, prompting a chorus of goodbyes as we ensure each student makes it into the correct vehicle safely.

“Suarez!” Chelsea hollers, twirling her lanyard in her hands before turning back to me. “Did Rachel decide on a theme for the family and friends baby shower?”

“She decided on Noah's Ark. Think soft, whimsical animals with gingham accents.”

“Aww, now that's cute,” Chelsea coos as she opens the van door for the Suarez brothers and waves them off. “If you need my die-cutter, it's all yours.”

“Have a good night!” I shut a car door. “I'd love that actually, if you don't mind.”

“That's why I offered.” She winks.

I wave at a parent driving by as I continue. “We went to the craft store over the weekend and picked out dozens of adorable coordinating papers and ribbons that were on sale. I think it's going to be super cute.”

She wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Of course, it is. You are so crafty and creative. Your shower is going to be so much better than the one those Bible biddies are throwing.”

I snort. “It's not a competition.”

“Regardless, I'm rooting for you.” She squeezes me before slowly walking backward, motioning for the cars to pull forward. “Shame on them, by the way.”

“Bye, Kensington. Bye, Fabian.” I wave to more kids being buckled in by their parents. “It's fine, Chels.”

“Not allowing you to help with your sister-in-law’s baby shower?”

“But—”

“Sister-in-law’s … baby shower.” She enunciates the words slowly. “You have more of a right than those women. Plus …” Chelsea flashes a sympathetic grin. “The whole baby thing. It just seems heartless for a group of people claiming to be so full of God's love.”

Rachel and I have known each other since we were babies ourselves. We did everything together: church conferences, mission trips, revivals. She was so much like a sister to me—and then she actually became my sister.

But I was the one who wanted a baby—not her.