Her All Along

“Avery, dear,” Mary started. “Did you hear back from your brother yet?”

I ignored the quick jab that question caused in my chest and shook my head. “No.” I’d been doing well lately, not thinking about Finn as often. Rather, I’d gotten myself a reality check, and the hope I’d held out for his response had dwindled. It’d been foolish to believe.

Elise tilted her face and kissed my side.

She’d felt guilty for pushing the idea, and it’d taken me a while to convince her she’d done the right thing. I was still glad I’d sent the letter.

Mary slid a hesitant look to James, who shrugged.

I raised a brow. Was I missing something here?

She cleared her throat. “Well, I wouldn’t give up,” she went on carefully. “James and I saw him in town the other day.”

“Really?” Elise sat up.

Jesus Christ, them too? Was everyone going to run into my estranged brother—wait. In town?

“You saw him in Camassia?” I asked for clarification. “Not at Sea-Tac?”

“Across the street from the deli we go to in the Valley,” she replied, gesturing to Elise. It was their thing to shop there once a week, but I knew where it was, obviously. “We thought it was you at first.”

I’d heard that one before.

Pipsqueak peered down at me. “You gave him Ryan’s address, didn’t you?”

I nodded. “And my email.”

Since I hadn’t yet moved in to my place in Berkeley at the time I sent the letter, I’d asked Ryan if I could use his name and address should my brother wish to write back. And I’d been honest with him. After wrapping up the CliffsNotes of my adulthood, leading up to our temporary stay in the Bay Area, I’d admitted to Finn that I wanted to hear from him, that I missed him.

Elise became pensive. “Maybe he’s waiting for us to move home. You told me he’s careful by nature. That he doesn’t act quickly.”

Sure, but he’d been a child back then. I only knew the kid he once was. The kid who’d recently escaped years of abuse. Anyone would be careful and cautious with our background.

I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

He once swore to me that he’d never come back to Camassia.

Something else must’ve brought him back to town, considering he knew I wasn’t there.

I didn’t want to think about it anymore. “I’m gonna go check in with Grace,” I said.

Thirty-Two

It made me ridiculously happy to see that many hands in the air. “Mariella,” I said.

“Because we wised up and started making our own shit,” she replied.

I chuckled and returned to the board. “Exactly. Why pay for something we could create ourselves?” I pulled down the map over the board to demonstrate the triangle between England, the west coast of Africa, and our thirteen colonies. “Problem was, we had this economic ecosystem, so to speak, and a minor change was all it took to disrupt the trade. Raw materials from the colonies, goods from England, and the slave trade in Africa.” I faced the class again. “Because we had been exporting exclusively to England, we also had the protection of the British Navy in the Atlantic. Every merchant was happy, and business was booming around the cities.” I paused. “Who can tell me what we exported? I want one raw material from the Northeast, one from the middle colonies, and one from the South.”

Jordan, who’d been struggling a lot the first semester, was finally catching up and being more involved in the class.

“Jordan,” I said.

He cleared his throat and tapped his pen against his desk. “Uh, tobacco from the South, farmed shit from the middle—grains and whatever—and timber from the north.”

I nodded. “Good job.” A glance at the clock let me know it was time to wrap things up. And a double take at the door told me that Elise was right outside. My immediate thought went to Grace, that something was wrong, but Pipsqueak looked too happy. “All right, everyone. Till next week. I want 2,000 words on the sanctions England imposed on the colonies when we started trading with other countries. You’ll find all the info under the Navigation Acts starting on page 209 in your book.”

They barely even groaned! I called that a success.

Most of my students had warmed up to me by November last year. Then I’d snatched the rest of the class’s approval after the holidays, when I’d turned a canceled field trip into a day with movies and pizza. Now April was around the corner, and almost everyone was focused on graduating high school. Two girls and four boys had dropped out, which I reluctantly had to accept. I could be the best teacher in the universe, and I still wouldn’t be able to keep all students in school.

I sat back against my desk and watched the students pour out of the classroom, and I wondered if maybe I should start teaching all grades again. There were benefits to being able to follow a student from freshman year to senior.