Page 3 of Before We Fell

My sister and her husband were dead.

What in the hell would happen to Riley now?

One

Lauren

Bang.Bang. Bang.

“Ugh!” I flung my comforter off of me. The blue down cover flew through the air and I jumped out of bed. Why I stomped to my window and shoved back my curtains was anyone’s guess. It wasn’t like my new neighbor could see my glare or hear my frustrated and angry growl through the thick thatch of trees separating our yards. It took a special kind of jerk to start construction or whatever he was doing at six in the morning. All the hammering waking me up over the last week was driving me bonkers.

“When will this end?” I muttered to myself and snagged my phone from its charger cord on my nightstand.

Six o’clock in the morning a week before school started. The last week of the summer I had to sleep in and pretend I was still on vacation. Whoever it was that moved in so recently was seriously messing with my planned activities of sleep, sleep, and more sleep. He banged on the house all day long and if it wasn’t a hammer, it was a saw. If it wasn’t one of those, it was a drill or the sound of large trucks dropping off supplies.

And it happened all.freaking.day.long.

Thank God I was back to school in a few days. A classroom of twenty-two eight-year-olds was more pleasant to my ears. Which was the only reason I hadn’t gone over to meet my new neighbor and ask him to keep it down until a more decent hour. Only two more days and I’d be at the school, getting my room ready, handling orientations for new families and then at the end of the week, I’d be welcoming all my students for their first day of school.

When I was a child, I was always giddy over the new year. It always filled me with hope that things would be different. That my family would be different. I cradled my new pencils and markers and crayons and notebooks with love, squeezing them and wishing beyond reason that each new school year would bring something excitingly different to my life.

That never quite happened, not with my family, but the love of learning and school was too far ingrained in me that by the time I went to college, I knew exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up. Now, I had just enough years of teaching under my belt that I wasn’t nervous, I wasn’t jittery, trying to find my place in a new school and classroom with veteran teachers who could be quite intimidating, but it was the excitement keeping me up late at night.

Oh, the learning that’d take place. The laughs we’d share. The children I’d hug when they fell and scraped their knees or forgot their snack, or their mom couldn’t make it to that field trip after all. Being a teacher was more than teaching arithmetic and proper grammar and reading. It was loving. And by this point in time during the summer, I wasachingto love the little kids I hadn’t yet met.

It was that excitement that helped me brush off my obnoxious neighbor as I moved to the bathroom. Once the water was running in the shower, I scanned my email, starred the messages I’d check once I got to my classroom before setting down my phone and stepping into the warm spray.

Heaven.I sighed as I ran my hands through my hair, shampooed and conditioned it. I’d had a cut a few weeks ago and even though I chopped several inches, my hair still hung past my breasts. During the school year, I took pride in my appearance. We might have had a casual dress code where I could wear jeans or leggings and dresses, but I always went to school looking as best I could. For me, that meant waking up at an ungodly hour so I could dry and straighten or curl my hair into long, fluffy waves.

That morning, I dried off quickly and wrapped it up into a bun, tugging down just a few strands at my temples before I went to my closet and pulled on some yoga capris with a gray tank.

I’d come back home before heading back up to the school later for pre-year conferences. It was one of my favorite things about this district. We spent three days speaking with parents and the kids, reviewing last year’s scores and progress and doing quick little tests to see what the kids had retained over the summer. It not only helped us know where students were before the first day, it also gave us teachers a chance to get to know the students and parents in a one-on-one environment.

Grabbing my phone on the way out, I moved through my small one-level home straight to the kitchen where I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and double checked to ensure everything was in its place.

My friends teased me for being too OCD, but I didn’t mind. My home life had been unruly and unmanageable, everything always a disaster and somehow, I took that control I needed to always ensure at least my bedroom was neat and tidy. That followed me into adulthood andmighthave driven my college roommates a wee bit nuts.

I didn’t mind other people’s messes, but my home was my sanctuary. It was quiet and peaceful, and keeping it clean helped me feel the same when I woke in the morning or came home after a long day and everything was in its place.

My bedroom was right off the kitchen and small eating area, so I quickly wiped down the table and counters before moving to the living room. I’d dusted and cleaned everything over the weekend, and then last night, fell asleep on the couch to a Hallmark Channel romance before waking up and shuffling off to my bedroom.

The movie was corny as heck, but I loved them.

Once I ensured the house was clean and picked up, I swiped my keys off the hook just inside my garage door, tugged my purse off another, and headed out.

I had supplies to buy.

Students to prepare for.

A knock rappedon my doorframe and a friendly voice called out, “Hey, you’re still here?”

Brooke, another third-grade teacher, and one of my closest acquaintances at work stepped into my room.

I gave her a quick wave.

“Here, let me help,” she said, hurrying to where I was stretched on a chair, standing on tiptoe, and holding a banner well above my head. She pulled another chair over to the wall and grabbed the hanging banner, pushing it high and straight across the top of the smart board screen.

I pulled the tape dispenser out of my mouth and ripped off a piece with my teeth. “Thank you,” I said, smacking the taped banner to the wall. “That’s a bit easier with help.”

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