Page 4 of Turn My Crank

"Who knows what a habitat is?" I ask, watching eager hands shoot into the air.

"It's where animals live!" Susie calls out without waiting to be called on.

"That's right, Susie, but remember to raise your hand," I remind her gently. "Can someone give an example of a habitat?"

"The ocean!" "The jungle!" "My backyard has bunnies!"

Their enthusiasm is contagious. We spend the afternoon creating habitat dioramas using shoeboxes I've collected throughout the year. Susie works diligently on a forest scene, her tongue poking out between her lips as she concentrates on gluing tiny pinecones to create trees.

"My daddy takes me hiking in the woods," she explains when I stop by her desk. "We saw a deer once. It was this big!" She stretches her arms wide, nearly knocking over her glue bottle.

"That sounds amazing," I say, steadying the glue. "Your dad likes outdoor activities, huh?"

"Daddy likes everything that's fun," she states matter-of-factly. "He says it's important to play as hard as you work."

I smile, filing away this new piece of information about Colby Reynolds. Every conversation with Susie reveals something that makes him seem more appealing, more intriguing. It's ridiculous, really. I barely know the man beyond our brief interactions at drop-off and pick-up times. Yet I find myself looking forward to those fleeting moments more than I should.

At three o'clock, I lead my line of students toward the car rider pick-up area. The afternoon sun is warm for October, and I'm grateful I wore a light dress instead of my usual cardigan and slacks. The car rider line is my least favorite duty—it's hot, loud,and requires constant vigilance to make sure each child gets into the right vehicle. But today, I volunteered for it specifically because I knew Colby would be picking up Susie.

I check my appearance quickly in the reflection of the school's glass doors. My blonde hair is still neat in its low ponytail, though a few strands have escaped around my face. My lipstick is long gone, but a quick swipe of tinted balm will have to do.

Cars begin pulling up along the curb, and I call out names through my megaphone as I spot familiar vehicles. "Rodriguez twins! Jackson! Patel!"

The children scamper to their waiting families, backpacks bouncing against their small frames. The line of cars moves steadily forward.

And then I see it—Colby's black pickup truck with the custom detailing on the sides. My heart does a little stutter-step as he pulls to the curb. Unlike most parents who stay in their vehicles, Colby gets out, all six feet of him unfolding from the driver's seat.

"Daddy!" Susie shouts, running to him before I can even call her name.

He scoops her up with ease, spinning her around once before setting her back on her feet. "Hey, pumpkin! How was school today?"

"We made habitats! Mine's a forest like where we go hiking!"

"That sounds awesome," he says, his deep voice carrying across the asphalt. He looks up and catches my eye, offering a smile that shouldn't affect me as much as it does.

I walk over, telling myself it's just to ensure a smooth pickup. "Hi, Mr. Reynolds. Susie did a great job on her project today."

"Please, call me Colby," he says, extending his hand. His palm is warm and calloused against mine, the handshake lingering a moment longer than necessary. "And I'm not surprised. She's been talking about forest animals all weekend."

Up close, I notice the tattoos that peek out from under the rolled sleeves of his button-up shirt. There's something incongruously appealing about a man who looks like he belongs on a motorcycle but dresses up in business casual to pick up his daughter from school.

"Miss Bennett reminded us about parent-teacher conferences next week!" Susie announces, tugging on her father's hand. "You promised you won't forget!"

Colby's eyes—a warm hazel that reminds me of autumn—hold mine. "I wouldn't miss it. Tuesday at 4:30, right?"

I'm surprised he remembers the specific time. "That's right. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too," he says, and something in his tone makes me wonder if we're still talking about the conference.

"Miss Bennett, can Daddy see my habitat?" Susie asks, bouncing on her toes.

"It's not quite dry yet," I explain. "But he can see it tomorrow when you take it home."

"Or I could stop by after work tomorrow," Colby suggests. "If that's okay with you. I'd love to see it before she brings it home."

The car behind his honks, reminding us we're holding up the line. It also gives us a chance to see each other before the scheduled parent/teacher conference. Sign me the fuck up.

"That would be fine," I say quickly. "I'm usually here until four."

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