How can you not love a kid like that?
His heart is bigger than his body, and it kills me how much he struggles in school. Especially because it’s not been an easy life for him or his mom. She told me last year during a parent-teacher conference about how she has struggled to stay clean—she had a drug addiction when she first got pregnant with Anthony—while also holding down a job, all without the help of Anthony’s father, who has been out of the picture since day one. All of that hit a little too close to home for me. So I offered to help him a few times a week. I’m still hurting from how hard she hugged me.
“Because Christmas can’t last forever. If it did, then you’d get bored with it. It would lose its magic, right?”
He thinks about that for a second before shaking his head. “Nope. I’d love it. I wish I could live in a town that was like those movies my mom watches where it’s Christmas all year round.”
I laugh, imagining Anthony watching a sappy Hallmark movie. “Well, maybe if you get a handle on this math stuff, you can open your own Christmas store in a town named Holly.”
“Holly? Nah. Not Christmas-y enough. I’d live in Jingleville.”
I laugh at his name and signal for him to get back to work, which he does now with a small smile on his face. Anthony’s homework today doesn’t require a lot of help from me, but he likes having me as a security blanket in case he has a question. Which means I can finally get to work on this food drive and the carnival. We’ve been back in school for a week and at least ten of The Helicopters have asked how the plans for the event are going.
The answer I’ve told them? Fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.
The real answer? I’m starting to panic a little.
I don’t know why I’m having so much trouble with this. The carnival is easy, find some games, get a dunking booth, and rent a bounce house. And I’ve organized dozens of food drives. Maybe it’s because I’ve never had the weight of the most over-involved mothers in the history of ever breathing down my neck.
It started when I first pitched the food drive at the beginning of the year. They seemed all for it when they thought I was doing it around Christmas—it would be a nice way to promote the school giving back to the community. When I told them that I wanted to do it in the spring, the looks they gave me threatened to negate each of their Botox injections.
I had my reasoning. Everyone volunteers, donates, and wants to give back during the holidays. What people fail to realize is that people who need help just don’t need help on December twenty-fifth. Or on Thanksgiving. Then again, how could I expect a group of mothers who have never wanted for anything a day in their lives to understand what being in need really is like.
My problem is that I needed something for an incentive, and I was drawing a blank. Back in the day—yes, I know how old that makes me sound—a class pizza party would be enough to get kids to raid their parents’ cupboards for canned goods. Unfortunately, these days a few slices of pie don’t cut it.
“Are you going to get that?” Anthony’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“Huh?”
“Are you OK, Miss Blackstone?”
I give him a puzzling look, wondering how deep in thought I must have been. “Yeah, why?”
“Because your phone has been vibrating and you haven’t even looked at it.”
As if on cue, another buzz comes through. When I pick it up, I notice I have a missed call from an unknown number. Likely a telemarketer. I ignore it and then see I have a text message that immediately puts a smile on my face.
Garrett: Did you forget about me?
I smile because, of course, I didn’t. How could I? Since our impromptu breakfast last weekend, I’ve thought about him more than I’ll ever admit to anyone. Then I realize he has sent more than one text.
Garrett: Wow, I didn’t realize I was that forgettable. Apparently, you need another pickup line to answer me. Fine. I didn’t think I’d need to break one out this soon.
I can’t help but smile as I read the most ridiculous line I’ve ever heard.
Garrett: Your eyes are bluer than the Atlantic Ocean. And I don’t mind being lost at sea!
I chuckle, shaking my head as I respond.
Paige: That was horrible.
Garrett: But it worked. You’re responding to me now.
Paige: Sorry, I didn’t hear my phone vibrate. And no, I didn’t forget about you. Just been busy with school starting back up. Plus, I didn’t have any new information for you.
Garrett: Didn’t you say you’re going to put me to work on the food drive?
Paige: I wish I had something for you to work on. I’m stuck.
Garrett: Stuck? It’s a food drive. I know I’m just getting into this volunteer stuff, but don’t you just stick a box out and ask for food?
Paige: In theory, yes. But there needs to be an incentive. These kids and parents won’t do this just out of the goodness of their hearts. And I’m drawing a blank.
I look up at Anthony, who is working diligently on his homework.
“You doing OK?”
He writes something else down before looking up. “Yup. I mean, math still stinks, but I think I’m doing it right.”
I smile, agreeing with him that math does stink, thankful that the extent of math I need to teach in kindergarten is counting.
“Show it to me when you’re done and I’ll check it.”
Anthony gets back to work as another text from Garrett comes through.
Garrett: Incentive? Like for the winning class?
Paige: Yes. We used to do pizza parties. Apparently free pizza isn’t a big deal for kids these days.
Garrett: Wow. I loved free pizza. Hell, I still love free pizza.
Paige: Same. I’ve been told kids who have iPhones and Jordans need more.
Garrett: Can I throw out an idea?
Paige: Please. I’m desperate.
Garrett: I do some work with the Norfolk Tides. What if I make some calls and see if we can get the winning class to a baseball game?
Paige: You would do that? That would be amazing. If it’s too much trouble, please don’t go out of your way. But if you could do that, I’d be forever grateful.
Garrett: I offered and it’s not. I’m glad to finally put some contacts I’ve made over the years to good use. Let me reach out to them and I’ll let you know.
Paige: Thank you, Garrett. Thank you so much.
Garrett: Anytime.
I read Garrett’s texts again, hoping I didn’t imagine that whole conversation.
“Why are you smiling, Miss Blackstone?”
I jump a little, not realizing that Anthony is standing right next to my desk.