Page 26 of Of Pucking Course

“Yeah, of course, I understand. Would someone be able to deliver this to?—”

“Sam?”

I look up and see a familiar-looking blonde woman in her early thirties. She’s wearing a long, flowy dress. It takes a second before I recognize her. She’s the other kindergarten teacher at this school and one of Dakota’s good friends. I met her at the reception the other day.

“Oh hey, Abby.”

She smiles at me. “What are you doing here?”

“Dakota forgot her lunch, so I’m droppingit off for her.”

“The joys of having a roommate.” She chuckles. “Why don’t you bring it to her?”

“Would that be okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Here, I’ll sign you in as a visitor.”

I show my ID to the secretary. Abby scribbles her signature in a notebook that’s on the reception desk.

“Follow me,” Abby says, smiling.

We walk down a hallway that’s plastered with kids’ drawings and paintings.

“Thanks a lot,” I say to her. “I probably should have texted Dakota and let her know that I was coming, but I didn’t want to interrupt her if she was busy with her students.”

Abby waves a hand. “It’s no problem. It’ll be a fun little surprise.” She’s quiet for a second. “How is Dakota doing? Is she okay?”

I read the concern in Abby’s eyes.

“I can tell she puts on a brave face for the kids when she comes to school. And when I’ve asked how she is, she says she’s fine,” Abby says. “But I worry. I can’t imagine the pain of breaking up your marriage during your reception because you finally realize what a jerk your husband is.”

“She’s hanging in there. Her friends are rallying around her. So is her brother. And I’m trying to be a good friend and roommate too.” I hold up the lunch container in my hand.

Abby smiles. “It sounds like she has a great support system outside of work. Dakota is just such a good person. Like, truly good. She puts her heart and soul into these kids every single day. She loves them like they’re her own. She deserves to be taken care of and treated well.”

I nod. “She absolutely does.”

We turn the corner and stop at the open door at the end.I stay behind Abby as she looks into the classroom so that the kids don’t freak out at the sight of some giant stranger they’ve never seen before.

A dozen kids are playing in the classroom. I smile as I watch three kids acting out a scene fromMoana.

And then I spot Dakota on the far side of the room, standing next to a guy and his little daughter. She sniffles as she gazes up at her dad, her big blue eyes watery.

My chest aches. Poor kid. She’s probably sad seeing her dad leave her at school. I think back to when I was her age. I cried a lot in kindergarten when my parents would drop me off because I didn’t want them to leave me. I eventually made friends and started feeling excited to go to school, but it was a rough transition.

The guy crouches down so he’s eye level with his daughter. He hugs her and kisses the top of her head.

“Charlotte sweetie, I have to go to work. Mommy will be here later to pick you up, okay?”

When he lets her go, the little girl’s mouth wobbles. His face twists in pain as he looks at her. Poor guy. That must be so hard to leave your kid when they’re crying for you to stay with them.

He stands up and starts to walk off. When his daughter starts to cry, he stops and turns around to her.

But before he can do anything, Dakota kneels next to the little girl and offers a sympathetic smile to the guy.

“It’s okay,” Dakota says. Gently, she takes Charlotte’s hand. “Charlotte, it’s water day, remember? You love water day. We’re going to play with water balloons and at the water table. Remember how much fun that was last time?”

Charlotte stops crying and looks at Dakota. She sniffles and blinks her big blue eyes before she nods.

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