Page 39 of Moonlight and Mischief
Holding up the pages, she says, “Just grading. Do you want to help?”
“How would I know what’s correct?” I ask, spinning the pink felt marker from the table between my fingers.
“It’s math from elementary school, I think you can manage,” she says, giving me a lopsided grin.
“Sounds doable,” I say, hand squeezing her leg pressed against mine. She extracts a paperclipped bundle from under the pages she’s already marking up and sets it across my lap.
“Anything that’s wrong, circle what’s incorrect and they’ll have to redo it in class. And if it’s the word problems on the next page and they didn’t show calculations, circle the empty space where calculations should have been.”
It’s easy enough. There’s only six pages, and they’re pretty close to perfect. Marigold leans over, throwing her head back in a laugh. “Check this out,” she says, holding a page up.
“If you have eight apples,” I read, “and eat five of them, how many do you have left?”
Marigold reads the scrawled answer, “An upset tummy.” I snort, checking the name at the top - Daisy. “She is so sassy,” Marigold says, giggles punctuating her words.
A few pages later, I hold out a paper toward her, it’s from one of the younger students. “Triangle,square,” I read, “hexagon, and…” pausing for dramatic effect, I point to the rhombus, “a squished square.”
“Geez,” she says, rolling her eyes.
I work through the rest of the pages fairly quickly, and help Marigold with a second bundle. Math finished, she pulls out a larger pile of multiple choice quizzes.
“These are super boring. I’ve been putting them off for ages. Do you want to watch a movie or something while I suck it up and finally grade these?”
“I don’t have a T.V.,” I say, frowning.
“My laptop has a bunch of movies loaded up. Pick whatever you like.” An ancient, thick laptop sits closed on the coffee table, a charging cord snaking over to the wall.
Easing it open, I spot a folder labeled movies right on the desktop. Marigold’s nose is in her tests, and she sticks her tongue out as she starts writing a note on one. I smirk, seeing her selection of cheesy early 90’s slasher thrillers and chick-flicks.
“You’ve got some interesting taste in movies,” I say.
She wrinkles her nose, pushing her knee into my hip. “Hey, these are classics.”
“Any preference?”
“Pick something you haven’t seen.”
I’m familiar with most of them, but haven’t actually watched most, save for a few horror movies. Trying to avoid overthinking it, I pick a particularly cheerful looking romantic comedy.
Marigold hums her approval, and I can’t help reaching my arm around her shoulder so she nestles against my chest. I’d watch anything if it meant she was this close.
Eventually she completes her grading and she slides down until she’s laying across my lap. My hands groove through her hair, marveling at how the reddish gold waves gleam in the low afternoon light.
“We need to get dinner,” she realizes as the credits are rolling. I want to stay there with her, stroking her hair and enjoying her smiles, but she needs to eat.
We’re late for dinner, and everyone else seems to be sitting with relatives. Many people are already finishing their meals and cleaning up.
Luckily, Crickett hasn’t put the food away yet, and we’re able to heap Chinese food onto plates.
Marigold picks a quiet table on the edge of the gathering. We sit across from each other, and I miss being close, but it’s nice to watch her expressions as she tries the fried rice.
“So if you had a different job from teaching, what would you do?” I ask, curious.
She takes a big bite of sesame chicken and stares into the distance while she chews. Eventually, she says, “probably something where I get to help lots of people. Like being a hairdresser or handyman. What about you?”
“Environmental lawyer,” I answer without thinking. I used to imagine life among humans, when I thought perhaps that wouldbe my only escape. One I’m glad I was too cowardly to take. A wolf without a pack is cut off from a vital part of themselves.
“Why?”
