Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“Do you want me to go ahead with the repairs?” he asks.
“Do you have a payment plan or something?”
“Lady, this is the garage, not the bank. You want me to do the repairs or not?”
“No, thanks. I can’t afford it right now.”
“Okay, well you still owe me two hundred for the towing.”
I think I’m going to be sick. I’ve asked Gwendolyn for an advance on my pay for the last three paychecks. If I ask again, especially after being late today, she’s going to fire me. I’m sure of it.
My stomach is churning as I look at my untouched coffee. I don’t even want it anymore. I don’t deserve it. My life is a mess.
“Suck it up, buttercup,” I whisper to myself. Whenever I was feeling sorry for myself as a kid, my dad would put his comforting hand on my shoulder and tell me that.
He raised me and my brother by himself and died of a surprise heart attack last year. My brother took off traveling throughout Asia a few days after the funeral and I haven’t seen him since. I’m on my own in a new town and I can’t help but think that I’m failing everything.
What’s something you can do to make it better right now? That’s what my father would say next.
I suck in a breath and pull out my phone. I call my bank to increase my credit card limit, but I’m still on hold when the bell rings and the kids come pouring back in with red cheeks from the cold and messed up hair from their hats.
“How was recess?” I ask them with a big smile on my face. I’m only twenty-one and at the start of my teaching career. It’s much too early to be bitter and checked-out for the kids.
“Good,” Liam says as he sits down at his desk. “We saw the fireman’s truck.”
My ears perk up and I immediately glance out the window. “The fireman?” I ask as my pulse starts to race. He was so hot. Like, five-alarm fire hot. Even if he did break my globe and then race out of here.
I sigh as I remember how he couldn’t get out of here fast enough. You’d think a hot single fireman (yes, I checked and he wasn’t wearing a ring) would want to hang around and flirt with the young teacher of the class he’s presenting in, but he didn’t at all.
Can you blame him?
I don’t have any sexy clothes. I don’t even have any nice clothes.
My wardrobe is lame even for an elementary school and my hair usually has at least some glitter in it. It’s not exactly what hot single firemen are looking for. I don’t remember the last time I went to the salon.
But I can’t even afford to fix my old beater car, let alone get my hair done or buy new clothes. The only clothes I get are hand-me-downs from my neighbor who’s a retired librarian, so you can imagine how sexy and stylish I look. No wonder he fled from my class.
“What are we doing today?” Isabella asks as the whole class stares at me.
“I don’t know,” I say to her. “What do you have planned?”
“Nothing! I’m the kid!” she says with a laugh.
“You’re supposed to plan the day,” Michael says and they all nod in agreement.
“I am?” I say as I make a confused face that always makes them laugh. “I thought I was a student too.”
“No!” they all shout together.
“You’re the teacher,” Isabella says with a giggle. “You have to pick something.”
“Okay,” I say as I walk around the classroom, tapping my chin as I look up at the ceiling. “I think we should do… really hard math.”
“No!” they all shout.
“We’re only in kindergarten,” Michael says. “We don’t do math.”
“Okay, what about physics?”
“No!!!!”
“Okay,” I say as I walk around while their cute little eyes follow me. “What about a… snowman craft?”
“Yes!!!” they all shout.
I start pulling out craft supplies and the cardboard pieces I prepped yesterday as they all gather around. After I show them how to make it, Isabella leans on my shoulder and looks at it.
“Are you going to bring that home to your husband?”
It’s an innocent question, but it skewers me.
I clear my throat as my cheeks get hot. “I don’t have a… husband.”
“Boyfriend?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Why not?”
God, will this chick step off? Geez.
But she keeps at it. Relentlessly and heartlessly.
“How come you don’t have a boyfriend, Miss Olson?” she asks again as everyone waits for my answer.
Because I’m broke, overweight with ugly clothes, and I’m about to be homeless.
“I just haven’t found the right guy,” I tell them. “Where should we put the snowman’s hat?”
Isabella doesn’t fall for my attempt to change the conversation. “You should just get a boyfriend.”
If only it were that easy. If only I could dial up a number and have one sent over.