Page 28 of Roommate's Guide to Love

Simon was the teacher’s pet who could give one grin and make anyone cave to his ways.

Maeve was the smart one.

Ainsley was the good girl.

Stella was the popular cheerleader.

And me? Well, I was the true middle child. The feral one. The one in detention the most. The one who organized the senior pranks. And no, not just for my class. I gained such a reputation at school for the stunts I pulled—highlighted by helping Simon’s graduating class build a General Lee replica car in the gymnasium—that every class above me, and a few after, sought my guidance.

But I’m not that girl anymore. I’m slightly less crazy. Now instead of pulling pranks on teachers, I apparently tell off parent groups.

Personally I love the evolution for me.

“Lacey, I know that?—”

“No, Quinn. You don’t get to tell me what I do and don’t know,” she says, clearly asserting her bank manager authority. “I know that I’m holding your future in my hands.”

“I’m not sure about future,” I quip. “I’ll be honest that I don’t see myself doing this forever.”

“Why not? Are you going to go back to teaching? Oh wait. I heard you got fired from your last job. No school will hire you, I bet. Which frankly, I don’t know how you got hired at a school in the first place.”

I take a deep breath, wanting to make sure that I don’t blow up at her. “No, Lacey. There was a disagreement I had with the administration and a group of parents. I chose to leave.”

She lets out a loud guffaw in place of a laugh. “Let me guess, you’re one of those ‘woke’ teachers trying to indoctrinate students? I should’ve guessed.”

It wasn’t until right now that I truly didn’t realize how triggering that word is with me.

And it’s also at this moment I know I’mnotgoing to be working at Rolling Hills Credit Union.

“You know what, Lacey? Fuck you and your sixth toe.”

She lets out a gasp. “You don’t get to talk to me that way! I’m this bank’s manager! And I don’t have a sixth toe! I don’t know why everyone has always thought that!”

“Oh! Impressive. I didn’t realize I was at thefootof royalty,” I say as I stand up. “And get off your fucking high horse. You peaked in high school, got this job because your uncle is on the board of trustees, and you’re only working here because your husband has a gambling problem so you can’t stay at home like you want. I might only visit a few times a year, but even I know that one. And as for my teaching, I stood up for what I thought was right. I stood up for my students and my principles. And I’m going to do that again by walking out of here, because I refuse to work for someone who still wishes it was the senior year of high school. Peace out, Six Toes.”

* * *

I didn’t want to work at the stupid bank anyway.

Now that I’m thinking about it, sitting at a teller window for eight hours a day would’ve just driven me more crazy than not working at all. I’m used to being up. Walking around. Talking a lot. That’s what’s going to be more suited for me.

Great job justifying it. Keep it up!

Now knowing that about myself, I scoped for jobs that will keep me moving. Allow me to have conversations with people. Which is how I ended up at Marvin’s Furniture Outlet.

Yup. I’m selling couches, sectionals, and anything else you’d like to take a nap on.

It might not be my ideal job, but I one time convinced the debate club to filibuster our history class to get out of taking a test. How hard can it be to convince someone to buy a bed set?

And even better? Marvin is the uncle of one of my high school best friends. He’s well aware of my past antics and even said that his store could use my spunk. I was hired on the spot.

“I don’t know. I like the set, but that’s not my color.”

“Oh! Well, I can fix that Mrs. Wolfe!” I say as I go to grab the upholstery color options. “Here we go. A binder bigger than my head with every color option imaginable. Did you have one in mind?”

“I don’t know, maybe a gray?”

“Gray! Love it. Classic.”

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