Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
She stands, a little bit flustered herself now that I really look, but a lot more together than I am. My brain and my tongue don’t seem to be on speaking terms, and I'm stuck just staring as she brushes her hands on her skirt and steps toward me.
“We’re just finishing up an art project. You caught us at our messiest,” she says, a hint of apology in her voice, but also pride. Like this chaos is exactly what she was aiming for.
“Yeah, looks… wow,” I manage, sounding like I just ran a goddamn marathon. “It’s, uh, busy.” Sage laughs, and I realize she’s not fazed at all. Meanwhile, I’m scrambling to find my footing in this turn of events.
The kids haven’t really noticed me yet, all too absorbed in their masterpiece of disaster. I can see bits of their projects through the storm, fire trucks made from milk cartons and a cardboard axe. Somehow, Sage has orchestrated this pandemonium without breaking a sweat, while I stand here, paralyzed and useless, my authority gone the moment I set foot in this classroom.
Before I can gather myself enough to form a coherent sentence, a group of students finally spots me. I’m mobbed in seconds. They're full of questions, and one of them tugs insistently on my sleeve. “Are you really a firefighter?”
“That’s what they tell me.” I grin, trying to fake the confidence that usually comes so easily. But my voice wavers, embarrassingly unsure.
“Cool!” another kid chimes in, her eyes wide as she clutches a glue-smeared paper fire hydrant. “Can you drive the truck?”
“I bet you’re not afraid of anything!” a boy shouts from somewhere in the mix, his enthusiasm as infectious as the flu.
They circle around me, and Sage gives me an encouraging nod like she's sure I’ve got this under control. But every time I glance her way, my mind blanks. “Afraid? Nah, except…” I fumble for words, knowing I should be in my element here, but I’m completely thrown. “Except maybe of my mother. She’s not one to mess with.” It’s a weak line, and I know it, but the kids don’t care. They laugh and push closer, firing off more questions before I can think too hard about what I'm doing.
Sage steps back to her desk, but I can tell she's watching, a half-smile playing on her lips. I try to give her one of my own, hoping it looks more natural than I feel. My fists clench at my sides, not around firehoses or safety gear but just to stop them from shaking.
“Did you ever save anyone?” A small girl with huge glasses peeks out from behind the others, her voice soft but urgent.
“Lots of times,” I say, and the confidence in my voice surprises even me. I tell them a quick story, something tame enough for third graders, but enough to make them gasp and giggle. I'm on safer ground now, but still wildly aware of Sage and the way she’s got one eye on me and one on her students. It’s like she’s multitasking on a level I can't even fathom.
Another boy pipes up, waving a hand. “Did you ever fight a shark?”
“A shark?” I pretend to think hard, warming up to the attention and maybe even playing it up for Sage a little. “Not yet, but there’s still time.” This gets a chorus of laughs and more questions, and my shoulders start to loosen, just a bit. Sage joins us, her presence both calming and completely unnerving at the same time.
“You’re a hit,” she says, folding her arms in a way that makes it impossible not to notice her. I want to be witty, to say something that’ll knock her as off balance as she’s knocked me, but instead, I just stand there, staring again like an idiot.
“You think?” I finally manage, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m, uh, glad I didn’t scare them off.”
“Are you kidding?” She laughs, and it sounds like a promise. “You’ve made their day.”
It’s only then that I realize I’ve completely lost track of time, wrapped up in Sage’s magnetic pull and the whirlwind of her classroom. The attention's still on me, every little head turned my way, but I’m back to feeling like I'm the new kid here, in over my head but maybe not entirely minding it.
I catch Sage’s eye again, and it hits me how totally exposed I am. But there’s something in her expression that makes it almost okay. More than okay, even. This is not what I expected when I walked in. Not even close.
A few of the kids start cleaning up their papers and art supplies, the frenzied energy shifting into something more contained. I feel the panic start to subside, replaced by a strange, hopeful uncertainty.
She moves closer, and I swallow hard. “I’ve, uh, never done this before. You know, talked to a class.” Or fallen in love at first sight. I guess it’s my day for firsts.