“Yeah, I brought it all here yesterday, so you have fun in Robin’s room and come over when you’re done.” He opened his classroom door and disappeared inside.

“Yay.” Robin grabbed my hand, pulling me into her classroom, across the hall.

The student desks were neatly arranged, five rows, four desks to a row. Each desk had a student’s name written on a long pencil design sticker in neat cursive writing. One kidney-shaped table sat in the back of the room stacked with assorted papers, bags, and books. The back wall was lined with student cubbies and coat hooks. To the left was a long table stacked four high with small compartments, marked iPad Station on a bright yellow sign on the wall above.

“I can’t believe it’s only three weeks until the first day of school,” Robin remarked, dumping her bag on her desk at the front of the room, by the sink and water fountain. A large poster hung above the sink stating, Nut-Free Zone. “And Back-to-School Night is only two weeks away. We have to be ready by then.”

“That’s what Archie keeps telling me.” I pointed to the poster. “Do you have students with nut allergies this year?”

“Oh, not this year, but it’s always a nut-free zone in my room,” she said. “I have a severe allergy.”

“Oh, wow. That can be very serious.”

“Yes, but I’m used to it; I always have an EpiPen near me,” she replied.

“That’s wise.” I smiled at her brightly. “So, what do you want me to do?”

“First, let’s get some candy bars from the lunchroom,” she said, digging change from her purse. “My treat.”

“You go ahead,” I replied. “None for me. I try not to eat too much sugar.”

“Really?” Robin raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, one sugary item per day, or less,” I said. “I made apple pie for dessert tonight, so I’ll save my allowance for then.”

“Wow, I don’t think I could have so much self-control,” Robin mused, opening the door. “Be back in a minute.”

The door slammed shut, her comment about self-control still in my mind. There was a time I allowed no sugar to enter my body. Myself, and everyone around me, considered it a poison, although I always thought that position was a bit extreme. Anything done in moderation is usually okay, unless you have an allergy, like Robin.

Those days on the commune seemed like a lifetime ago. I was certainly a different person then, naïve, trusting, and unable to see that what a person says is not always their true feeling or intention. I’d had troubles with trust before I joined Listening Lark but my time there only intensified my trust issues. I was so desperate to have someone love me and be a part of a family that I rushed in without a second thought. Now I was willing to trust, but you had to prove your trustworthiness to me first. I considered all my actions first before rushing into a situation.

The classroom door opened and Robin walked inside. “Okay.” She held up a half-eaten chocolate bar. “See, no self-control, but I’m ready to begin. Let’s tackle this bulletin board.”

So, we did. Bright yellow background paper, star cutouts all around the board, movie camera, and large popcorn cutouts on each side of the board and, above, a large sign, bright circles of yellow around the border mimicking stage lights, stating, Now Showing Our Best Work, ready for students’ creations.

“Looks great,” I said, stepping back to admire our work.

“We’re a great team,” Robin replied. She brushed her long, dark hair out of her eyes. She sighed. “I guess I’d better give you back to Archie. Thanks for helping me.”

“You’re welcome. Yes, I’m sure he’s looking for me,” I replied.

“Let me take you out for dinner sometime, to say thanks,” Robin suggested.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. It was just a bulletin board, no big deal.”

“Not just that. I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you this summer. Let’s celebrate being neighbors.”

I smiled. “Okay, sounds fun. Where do you want to go? Poplin Chicken?”

“No, not there. Have you been to Dilly’s?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Tomorrow night, you and me for dinner, girls’ night?”

“Sure, sounds fun,” I replied, waving goodbye as I walked out her door.

Archie had made progress on his classroom organization while I decorated bulletin boards with Robin. In the back of the room, he’d placed a dark brown area rug, and set up a small green tent with an inflatable campfire in front of it. Dark green round chair cushions sat on the floor around the pretend fire. A camp chair sat to the left of the tent. He now worked on the bulletin board behind the tent.

The board had a black paper background, yellow edging, and Reading Makes You a Happy Camper in cutout white letters across the top. Archie stapled some construction pine trees to the bottom of the board.

“Wow, this looks awesome!” I exclaimed. “You’ve been busy.”

He laughed. “Well, I had some of it already set up. Here, help me put the rest of the pine trees and tent on the board.”

“Ooh, and stars for the sky,” I said, picking up one of the yellow stars sitting on a pile lying on an empty desk.

We stapled the cutouts, stars, trees, and tent, then stood back to admire our work. I was sure his third graders would enjoy our fun bulletin board.

“Not bad,” Archie remarked, running a hand through his thick blond hair.

I wrapped my arms around him. “You’re not bad,” I said, kissing him.

He returned my kiss. I deepened it, pressing my body against his.

“Mmm… you’re going to make me want more,” he whispered, slightly pulling away.

I held him tight.

“I want more,” I said seductively. I nodded over to his desk. “You know, I’ve never had sex on a teacher’s desk.”

He smiled. “Oh, really? We can’t though, not at school.”

I grabbed his hand and led him over to the desk. “Yes, we can. I locked your door and look, I’ve closed the little curtain on the window.”

I pushed his inbox tray and pencil containers to the side and stood at the center of the desk, unzipping my jean shorts and tossing them on the chair.

“So, you planned to seduce me?” he teased, now his hands all over me. My undies are quickly tossed on top of the shorts. He lifted me onto the desk.

“Yes.” I laughed. “So much hotter than bulletin boards.”

TWELVE2023

Aimee

Dilly’s, a pub-style restaurant, about a thirty-minute drive from Poplin, swarmed with patrons on a busy Friday night. The hostess showed us to a red cushioned booth by the bar, which was lined with men and woman engrossed with their drinks and each other.

“Two merlots,” Robin ordered for us. She looked at me. “Right?”