Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“Thank you, Mr. Houston.”
I don’t miss Katy’s scowl or the fact that she rolls her eyes. If there is one thing that is certain, it’s that Katy Dayton really dislikes me.
Principal Dana looks at her watch again. “Okay, great meeting, everyone.” Within ten seconds, she’s logged off her computer and has her purse in her hand. “Keep me updated on how the Career Day planning goes. But, like, bare minimum updates, okay? I’ll see you all after spring break.”
And then, she’s gone. Leaving Katy, Alma, and me sitting there in her office.
“I can’t wait to see how this goes down,” Alma mutters to herself as she shoves her knitting shit back in her bag.
But Katy doesn’t say much of anything. Instead, she gets up from her seat and heads straight for the door.
And I can’t blame her. She’s been the loser of every verbal battle between us today, and her perfectionistic ego probably can’t take any more.
Me, though? I’d happily go a few more rounds.
Is it bad if there’s a part of me that’s looking forward to getting back from my spring break trip so I can get to Career Day planning with the woman who can’t stand me?
Saturday, March 19th
Katy
After a three-hour flight and a twenty-minute Uber ride, I have officially arrived at my vacation home away from home. I gently kick the condo door shut behind me and walk straight to the kitchen area to set down my bags of groceries on top of the counters.
My long, relaxing spring break week has officially started.
No class. No students. No late-night marathons of grading papers. No thinking about the disaster that will be Career Day planning with Mack Houston.
I am a free woman ready to enjoy my vacay.
Hallelujah!
Cute, beachy, Florida-themed décor dots the kitchen of my rental. Seashells and plastic flowers intermingle with a teal table runner that showcases ivory-colored napkins and gives way to wicker and glass beneath them.
Everything may be a bit kitschy, but I can’t deny it’s all perfectly designed to frame the floor-to-ceiling windows on the back side of the condo.
Outside of those windows? Heaven—otherwise known as miles and miles of crisp white sand and bright-blue Gulf water that makes my heart skip atop itself in my chest.
I can’t believe I’m finally here. Man, I really needed this.
I haven’t had a vacation of any sort since last spring break, an entire year ago. I thought I might do something for Christmas break—one of the other major times a teacher can plan these things other than summer—but I ended up having to go back home to Savannah, Georgia, to help my mom take care of my dad as he recovered from knee surgery.
You might assume that he injured himself doing something simple like yard work or cleaning out gutters. You know, normal things that a parent of an almost thirty-year-old woman might be doing. But those and any other guesses you might have would be wrong.
My dad, Kai Dayton, is one of the craziest SOBs you’ll ever meet. He’s lived his life in the fast lane, and wherever he’s gone, my mom hasn’t been far behind. But I suppose that’s bound to happen sometimes when you get pregnant with your only kiddo at sixteen.
Don’t get me wrong, I respect the hell out of both of my parents for making something out of our lives. But I cannot say in good conscience that we escaped without any consequences. See, my dad was a professional motocross rider up until five years ago, and he hasn’t lost an ounce of craziness in his retirement.
He goes hard all the time, and occasionally, that means he has to go home…and sit his butt on the couch because he shattered his patella after gunning a huge jump on his backyard course.
And since my mom Melissa is squeamish about injuries, it left me to take on the temporary caregiver role. A role I stepped into a lot while growing up in a house with two wild and crazy parents. But it’s not just that—out of the three of us, I’ve always had the oldest soul. Hell, in high school, rather than partying with friends, I was my parents’ designated driver.
Needless to say, these seven days to myself are about as essential as air to breathe. And I’m grateful fellow Calhoun teacher Kimmie Ward’s parents decided to rent out their Florida beachfront condo this year and that they were able to accommodate me during spring break week of all weeks.
Shoulders sagging with long-delayed relief, I tuck my groceries away into one of the cabinets and finger the sweet note left on the counter. Enjoy your time!
I know Kimmie’s parents themselves didn’t leave the note—they’re in Pennsylvania. But the fact that their cleaner or condo manager or whoever did is still nice. Turning to my Neoprene wine sleeve at the other end of the counter, I take out the very expensive bottle I’ve been saving for a special occasion and set it next to the note. It’s not like it cost a million dollars—more like sixty—but for a single elementary school teacher without a trust fund, it’s a huge splurge. And since the moment I booked this stay, I’ve been looking forward to drinking it while my toes are in the sand and the calm waters of the Gulf roll in before me.