Page 24 of Off The Ice

“Oh, I had to borrow a friend’s clothes,” I explained quickly. “I wasn’t able to get home because—well, there’s been some changes—but I needed something to wear today, so—” I trailed off, cringing at the way I always seemed to word-vomit answers at people.

I didn’t have to. I didn’t owe anyone the personal, intimate details of my private life. And I was sure they weren’t interested in hearing it either. So, why did I always feel the need to explain myself?

Marissa arched a brow at my rambling, nodding slowly at my scatterbrained speech.

Humiliating,I thought to myself, wondering why every encounter with her made me feel like an incompetent idiot.

“I think you look very elegant,” Jana offered from her spot across the room.

“Thank you,” I answered, deflated, forcing myself not to sink deeper into my seat.

My phone buzzed again, and I jumped at the chance to excuse myself from Marissa’s scrutiny.

It was a text from Maggie telling me that she was heading over to my apartment to get my stuff for me. I heaved a sigh of relief and shot a text back, telling her I didn’t deserve her. And really, I didn’t.

She hated Dave. Always had. Yet, she was sacrificing time out of her day to go over and get my stuff so I didn’t have to see him again. Maggie was as selfless as they came, and apparently, as I was beginning to realize, it was a family trait.

Gathering my stuff, I headed to the classroom, taking immediate comfort in the space I’d created to be a warm, inviting, safe haven for my students.

How was it that I could feel so utterly powerless out in the real world, interacting with people my own age, yet totally at ease around a group of kids?

The tension started to bleed off of me with each child that trickled in through the door, their chatter filling the room with life and laughter. Each one had something unique to say, show, or boast about. Soon enough, a bit of life started to pour back into me, too.

Julie, my co-teacher, sauntered into the room a while later, juggling her coffee and scrolling on her phone.

“Good morning.” I smiled, feeling only a bit dejected at her usual lack of response.

I took a breath, refocusing my attention back to the kids sitting at the small table around me. The tiny chairs weren’t the most comfortable for an adult, but considering I felt about two inches tall today, it didn’t really matter much.

“Miss Cassie?” a voice spoke, breaking through my thoughts. I looked beside me, finding Emily staring up at me with large doe eyes.

“Yes?” I asked, smiling down at her while she scribbled on a printout of an apple tree.

Coloring in the lines was not a skill we had perfected, and apparently, neither was understanding what color an apple was, but her neon pink tree was adorable all the same.

“Are you sad?” she asked, staring at me intently.

The bluntness of her question caught me off guard, and I opened my mouth to deny it before realizing I couldn’t. Kids were a lot more intuitive than anyone realized, and they didn’t take kindly to being lied to. I couldn’t blame them. I was like them in that way.

“Why do you think that?” I chose instead, settling on the safer response.

“Well,” she started, looking at me intently while trying to figure out the logic behind her very accurate assessment. “Your face isn’t smiling like normal and—” She squinted, taking in every detail of my appearance. “—and you’re not wearing your colors.”

I bit my lip to fight a giggle that threatened to spill out. Her observation was both sweet and painfully accurate. My coworkers might not see the appeal of my usual wardrobe, but it was clear that at least one student appreciated it.

I smiled down at her, nodding my head in confirmation.

“You’re absolutely right,” I said gently. “I do look a little different today.”

I scrunched my nose to show her I was right there with her, missing my normal clothes just as much as she did.

“But I’ll tell you what—I promise that tomorrow I’ll wear the most colorful outfit you can imagine. Deal?”

Her face lit up, the concern melting away into a wide grin. “Good. Your colors make me happy.”

That simple statement hit me square in the chest. My coworkers might think I was odd, Dave might not want me, and my current living situation was temporary at best, but here, in this tiny little classroom, my colors—and maybe even I—mattered to someone.

Chapter Ten

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