* * *
On Tuesday, Ky hurried home to take a shower and change after work, not wanting to meet the principal smelling like chicken fingers and fries.
But by the time she made her way back to school, nervous sweat dotted her brow and made her feel as if she needed another shower.
When she walked past the bus depot, her friend Heather stood by her big yellow school bus with a clipboard, doing a check before her afternoon route.
“How’s Bertha?” Ky called through the chain-link fence.
Heather laughed and gave the hood a loving pat. “She’s fine. What are you up to? Picking up Regan?”
“I wish.” Ky stepped closer to the fence so she didn’t have to raise her voice and risk being overheard. “I’m going to the principal’s office.”
Heather sent her a what-did-you-do-now look.
“Hey, don’t look at me like that! I’m not the record holder for most visits to the principal’s office in a school year.”
“So are you meeting up with the official record holder?” Heather asked.
“Yeah. We’re going to tell Mrs. Kallmaker about us.”
Heather let out a whistle. “After being as oblivious as a bucket of mud for twenty-five years, you two are moving fast!”
It didn’t feel like that at all. “I hid my feelings for too long, even from myself. Now it just feels great to be able to be open about it.”
Heather eyed her from head to toe. “Then why do you look as if you were trudging to the dentist?”
Did she? Ky tried to loosen her tense shoulders by rotating them. “I just don’t want this…us…to cause any trouble for Regan.”
“Why would it?” Heather asked. “There’s nothing in your contracts about relationships with other faculty or staff members being forbidden, is there? I mean, this school is practically a dating agency! According to the school bus rumor mill, the math teacher is married to the school counselor, and the French teacher and the Spanish teacher have their own…language exchange going on.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s not against the rules.”
“You think it’s different because you’re both women?”
“I hope not.” Ky bunched her hands into fists. She was usually the laid-back type, but she wouldn’t allow anyone to discriminate against Regan. “I’m probably worrying for no reason.”
Heather gave her an encouraging nod. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. But if it’s not, let me know and I’ll call in the cavalry.” She swept her hand in the direction of their fleet of school buses.
Ky laughed. “What are you going to do? Ride up to the principal’s office in Bertha, with all her sisters in tow?”
“Don’t give me any ideas. But seriously, if they try any homophobic bullshit, I’ve got your back, and so does Miranda.”
Their friends’ support warmed Ky from the inside out. “Thanks.” She pointed toward the school’s main building. “I’d better get going. Drive safely.”
“Will do.”
As Heather went back to checking off the items on her list, Ky walked toward the main entrance. Usually, she enjoyed the sight of the beautiful, brick-faced historic building with its elegantly arched Venetian windows, but today, even the white clock tower rising behind it seemed to loom over her like the outlook of enemy troops.
“Stop being so dramatic,” Ky told herself as she showed her ID to the security guard, pushed through the middle of the three double doors, and stepped inside the light-filled two-story lobby. For good luck, she touched the statue of the pioneer woman Hamilton High School had been named for—one of the first teachers in Oregon. “Wish me luck, Nora.”
Just when she reached the connecting doorway to the science wing, the last bell of the day rang.
Within seconds, doors flew open, and the hall filled with kids.
Most rushed past Ky without paying her any attention, as if they couldn’t wait to leave the building, but a few gave her an absentminded wave or a quick “hi,” clearly recognizing her even without her apron and school polo.
It wasn’t long before Regan’s booming laughter rose above the chatter of the students.
Ky’s heartbeat picked up, and her lips curled into a smile as Regan came down the hall toward her, flanked by two students. She wore Ky’s favorite outfit—a navy-blue wrap skirt, paired with a white T-shirt and a denim jacket. Her dark hair was in a creatively messy tousle, making Ky’s fingers itch with the urge to comb the disheveled locks back into some semblance of order.
Regan looked up as if sensing Ky’s presence, and her freckled nose scrunched up as she smiled at her.
The two students followed Regan’s gaze, then nudged each other. With a murmured “bye,” they were gone.
Ky glanced at their retreating backs, then returned her attention to Regan. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Regan answered with a smile that was softer, more intimate than the one she had given her students. “Ready?”
Ky nodded, and they easily fell into step as they made their way toward the part of the building that housed administration.
Regan clutched the strap of her laptop bag more tightly than she usually did.
Ky looked over. “You’re not nervous, are you?”
“No.” Regan lowered her voice to a whisper. “But I know you are, and I really want to hold your hand right now.”
“Aww.” Ky brushed her arm against Regan’s, making it look as if she had accidentally gotten a bit too close while rounding the corner. “Well, holding my hand on the way to the principal’s office is kind of a tradition. You did it the first time we were sent there as kids.”
