“I’m so sorry, Larry. I’m okay.”
“Another bad dream?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I’m sorry for you. Glad you’re okay,” he said, and went back across the hall and closed his door.
Katie locked herself back in, then stood in front of the door and cried.
“How long, God?” she sobbed, and sank to her knees.
She stayed there until her eyes were swollen and her knees were numb, then crawled to her feet and began walking through her apartment, turning on lights as she went.
It was hours before she dozed back off, and then she woke up midmorning in a panic, afraid she had missed her interview. To her relief, she still had almost two hours to spare, so she flew out of bed and jumped into the shower.
By the time she came out, the remnants of last night’s terrors had been erased from her face. A little bit of makeup would disguise the circles beneath her eyes, and she’d be good to go. After a cup of coffee and some scrambled eggs and toast, she felt better and went back to her closet to choose an outfit to wear.
Something in her gut said this interview was going to matter, that it was up to her not to shy away from the truth and to be her straightforward, amenable self. So she dressed with purpose, wearing a colorful blouse and slacks, carefully applied her makeup, and left her long hair hanging loose around her face.
Then she situated herself in the kitchen, using the table as a desk, and forgot that the little red schoolhouse clock on the wall behind her would be part of her background. She was staring at the screen, waiting for the link to pop up, and when she got the invitation she quickly clicked and joined in.
There were four smiling faces looking at her, and then a middle-aged woman with graying hair began to speak.
“Hello, Katie. Thank you for joining us. I’m Susan Wayne, the elementary principal. This is Andrew Sutton, our science teacher, and Priscilla Lewis, one of our fifth-grade teachers, and our other first-grade teacher, Marcy Kincaid. They are part of the hiring committee and we always ask them to sit in on the first meeting. Everyone, this is Katie McGrath. We’ve all read your application and are looking forward to visiting with you.”
Katie smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Susan opened the file on her desk, then looked up. “I always like to jump right in, so the first thing I want to do is go over your stats. Your degree is in early childhood education, and you’ve been teaching for eight years in Albuquerque?”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s correct.”
“I see you’ve received a Teacher of the Year award from your school and are very successful at writing grants for your classroom. Tell me about that.”
Katie nodded. “I grew up without parents. I was in the foster system until I aged out and graduated from high school, so I’ve always been a self-starter. I worked two jobs to get myself through college, and I was always looking for small scholarships or grants that I might qualify for, so I got in the habit of staying on top of what was being offered. Then after I went into the classroom, I soon learned that it wasn’t all that different for teachers. Funding isn’t always the best, and we are always seeking out new avenues for resources. I have what I call my own blueprint for writing grants, and I’m delighted every time I receive one.”
“That’s admirable and quite resourceful of you,” Susan said. “How do you feel about leaving a big city for a town the size of Borden’s Gap?”
“I love teaching, but I was ready for a change. I purposefully sought out smaller schools. And I have visited Tennessee before, so living where rain is a normal happening and so many things are green is exciting to me.”
Susan made a couple of notes, and then they moved on. The other teachers had little to add to the conversation, but Katie knew they’d have plenty to say when she was no longer online.
Just as they were wrapping up, Susan had one more question.
“Katie, I just want to talk about one more thing.”
“Sure,” Katie said, waiting.
“I know the school you’re leaving is Saguaro Elementary, the school that was the scene of a mass shooting back in March.”
The smile froze on Katie’s face. She blinked, then took a deep breath.
“Yes, that’s true,” she said.
Susan sighed. “I don’t want to be insensitive, but you were very honest and up-front on your application, so we know what happened to you, and I want you to know you have our utmost admiration. You have lived our worst nightmare. Have you been released from doctor care?”
Katie nodded. “Yes. I am completely healed and released without any cautions. And I also make no apologies or excuses for the fact that I turned in my resignation because of the shooting.” She stopped, took a deep breath, and then stared straight into their faces. “I cannot go back into that school, in the same hallways, without seeing where Coach Lincoln dropped dead beside me. Where my students and I ran for our lives. I still see the blood and the brain matter in my dreams. I feel the bullets in my back. I still hear the screams in those halls and the gunshots in my sleep.
“I went back there recently for an event and to tell my babies goodbye. I was their first-grade teacher, and they needed to see me for themselves…to know that I was alive and well. It made me physically sick to be there. But I am a teacher. I love what I do. I have survived the odds ever since I was born, and I am the captain of my own ship. I am choosing to move the location of my passion to a smaller community, but I am not weakened by my experience.”
Susan Wayne was blinking back tears.
“Of course you aren’t. And we are aware of how you saved the little boys.”
“Alejandro and Kieran. They thought I died. I went back to school that day for them, for all my babies, so they could see for themselves that I was well,” Katie said.
Susan nodded. “Of course that must have been hard for you, but again, you sacrificed for them. That is an admirable quality in anyone, but especially for teachers. I think we’ve covered everything we wanted to know. We are still interviewing, but we will notify each of our applicants when we have finished.”
Katie sat up a little straighter. “Wherever I go from here, I am not arriving as the teacher from the shooting.”
“Understood,” Susan said. “We’ll be in touch.”
The connection ended, and Katie closed her laptop.
The interview was over.
It would be what it would be.
***
Two days later, Katie was on her way to meet Lila for dinner when her phone rang. She answered via Bluetooth.
“Hello.”