Rewind four months.
School – my safe place. Math – a challenge.
I float about the room.
“You got it!”
“Tell me about how. . .”
“Let’s try this one again.”
A persistent buzz on my wrist — one I’d usually ignore. Who keeps calling me?
A glance. A skipped heartbeat. Quick steps to my classroom phone.
“Your dad called,” he said. Heart wrenching news. No tears.
“I have to go.” Click.
An automatic dial. A dash to the hallway. An excruciating wait. A quick plan.
“Is this right Miss Quimby?” he said hopefully.
“Looks like you’re on the right track,” I replied unknowingly. “Keep going.”
Dry eyes. Survival mode. Pack your things. Say goodbye. Get out.
My hands gripped the steering wheel, and I crumbled.