Rowan
"Mama," I sigh into the phone, pulling my glasses off to pinch the bridge of my nose. "You're not supposed to be out running. You just had surgery two weeks ago."
"I wasn't running," my mom protests, though we both know she's lying. "I was jogging. Lightly."
"You were running."
She makes a sound of annoyance, which makes me smile. Like me, my mom is not very good at doing what she's told. Unlike me, she hates to stay in one place for very long and has trouble settling down. At fifty-five, she has more energy than I do, and I'm exactly thirty years and two days younger than she is.
I was a surprise baby. My parents didn't think they could have children, but then my mom turned up pregnant. Nine months later, I was born. Less than a year after I made my entrance, my dad died in a car accident with a drunk driver.
It's been me and my mom ever since. She's my best friend, my favorite person.
Physically, I'm her exact opposite, dark where she's light. She's tall and willowy, with wild blonde hair and porcelain skin. She always tells me I'm the best parts of her and my dad, but I look more like him. I'm biracial, with his dark hair and eyes. I'm also thick and curvy, a solid size sixteen. At five-two, I tend to be mistaken for one of my students more often than not.
What I lack in height, I make up for in other ways. In that regard, my mom and are a lot alike. We're both stubborn, with big hearts, carefree spirits, and mouths that never stop moving. We love making other people happy. But she's a bit of a hippy if I'm being honest. I'm a bookworm who is happier staying in one place.
My childhood was one big adventure. We traveled a lot, spending weeks on the road during school breaks. I think we visited every state and Canada before I was twelve. We always landed back in San Francisco before the school year resumed, but never in the same home…often not even in the same communities. If it weren't for Mr. and Mrs. Walker, I would have had to start over every year. But they kind of adopted me and my mom, always making sure we had a safe place. Their kids, Lisa Dunham and Colton Walker, were a few years older than me, but they were some of the only constants in my life. Lisa is still a big part of my life. She's my closest friend.
Growing up on the road wasn't terrible, but I like the comfort of having my own little space in the world, somewhere to call my own. San Francisco is my home, and Commodore, the elementary school where I teach, is my happy place. I love it here. The only downside is that an entire ocean currently divides me and my mom. She's in London, too far away for me to make sure she's following doctor's orders and taking it easy while she recovers.
I miss her like crazy.
"Where's George? Isn't he supposed to be making you behave?" I ask, putting my glasses back on and gathering up the remnants of my lunch to throw away. I still have a few minutes before the third-grade lunch period is over, but I need to get back to my classroom.
"Bah to behaving," my mom says, a smile in her voice. "He's working today. Or else he's fishing and drinking beer, trying to escape the crazy lady he let move into his house."
I laugh at her assessment. It's wildly inaccurate. George Constantine has never fished a day in his life. He's more likely to be found fixing up his bike or shooting pool. He's also madly in love with my mom. She feels the same way about him. He likes to hover and fuss over her. Mom pretends it drives her nuts, but I think she secretly loves it. It's been a long time since she had a companion. She never dated after my dad died. George is good for her. She's been in London longer than she's ever stayed anywhere before.
"Please stop driving him to drink and behave, Mama," I tease her, shoving my lunch bag into the cramped fridge. "You know he's crazy about you. It'll break his heart if something happens to you because you're too stubborn to listen to reason."
"Fine, fine." She huffs at me. "I'll try to behave."
"Thank you." I exhale a relieved breath and then glance at the time. "I have to get to class before the monsters beat me there. I'll call you later, okay? I love you."
"To the moon and back, baby girl," she says and then disconnects.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and then clean up the lounge, putting everything back in order. Once that's done, I shove my bag back into the fridge and head toward my classroom. I have spelling tests to grade. I doubt I'll get very far before the bell rings, but I have a book I really want to read tonight. The more tests I finish now, the fewer I have to do tonight.
Grading tests is the worst part of teaching. I hate seeing the disappointment in the eyes of the students who don't do well. I always let them take the test again, as many times as they need to pass, but it still sucks to watch their little faces fall.
"Miss Lassiter," Jamie Grier says, running up to me in the hallway outside of our classroom. Her pigtails bounce as she skids to a stop in front of me. Her blue eyes are wide behind her glasses, her little lip caught between her teeth.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" I ask, crouching down in front of her, instantly concerned. Jamie is one of my best students. She's incredibly smart but she's tiny, which means some of the other kids like to tease and pick on her.
"I think you're in twouble," she whispers. With her two front teeth missing, she has a bit of a lisp and sometimes struggles to say her Rs.
I blink at her and then laugh quietly, caught off guard by her response. It wasn't what I was expecting her to say, that's for sure. "What makes you think so?"
"The principal told me to come and find you." She leans her little face close to mine, as if she's telling me a secret. "He said he needs you in his office right away."
I bite back the curse on the tip of my tongue. If the devil wore tweed and clicked his tongue when he was disappointed, he would be Richard Johnson, our principal. The man is a menace. I've worked here for the last four years, and I'm pretty sure he's hated me for all four of them.