Just Another Kid: Each was a child no one could reach – until one amazing teacher embraced them all. Torey Hayden

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СКАЧАТЬ is our cousin Shamie,” Geraldine announced with tremendous pride. “He’s come all the way from Belfast. He was just there last Friday. Weren’t you? He’s our Auntie Cath and Uncle Joe’s Shamie, who lives just three doors down, at 44 Greener Terrace. That’s his address. Our house is 38 Greener Terrace.”

      “It isn’t now,” Shamie said. “You don’t live there now. Your house number is 3018 Scenic View Drive.” He smiled, pleased with his knowledge. What I noticed, listening to him, was how much of her accent Geraldine had already lost. She sounded broadly American against Shamie’s thick brogue.

      “I’m going back,” Geraldine said. “When I’m grown up, I’m going back to live at 38. And Shemona too, huh, Shemona? Shemona and I are going back to live together at 38 Greener Terrace.”

      “Can’t do. It’s sold.”

      “Shall do, Shamie. We shall buy it back.”

      “How silly. You haven’t any money.”

      Geraldine’s lower jaw jutted forward in a defiant expression. “Shemona and I,” she said with great importance, “we shall get jobs. We’ll earn bags of money and buy 38 back.”

      “It’ll be all different anyhow, Geraldine,” Shamie replied.

      “We’ll make it just as it was. And we’ll live there like before. Shan’t we, Shemona?”

      I stood by, bemused.

      “Well,” said Shamie with a shrug. “You can, if you want. I shan’t go back. I shall never go back. I’m staying here forever.”

      Following the brief after-school conversation with Dr. Taylor, I felt more at ease in her presence, although I obviously hadn’t disarmed her any. She still continued to be aloof and uncommunicative when we encountered one another; however, I ceased to take it personally. I perceived it less as directed hostility and more as just an unfortunate personality trait, and that helped me. I was no longer frightened of her.

      What helped even more was that she stopped coming to school drunk. I had been on my guard for the first week or so after the conference with Tom Considyne, but I think he must have said something to her, because from then on, she showed up sober. I flattered myself by hoping that perhaps our after-school discussion might have helped. Indeed, I went so far in flattering myself as to think perhaps she was now frightened of me and didn’t dare come to school drunk. It was a warming thought, and I relaxed considerably.

      Then the second week of November arrived. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and Dr. Taylor was sitting at the wheel of her car. As had become our custom, she did not get out. Instead, I opened the rear door and helped Leslie into her seat belt. But that afternoon, when I opened the door, I was assaulted by the smell of licorice breath candies and alcohol.

      Now what?

      For lack of something better to do, I hastily unbuckled Leslie’s seat belt, pulled her back out of the car and shut the door. Then I stepped back up on the curb with Leslie, who was looking perplexed but stayed calm.

      The window on the passenger side lowered with an electric whirr. “What are you doing?” Dr. Taylor asked, irritation naked in her voice.

      I said nothing and did not lean down so that she could see my face. Instead, I turned Leslie around, and we started back for the school building.

      The far-side door opened, and Dr. Taylor got out of her Mercedes. “What are you doing?” she asked, over the top of her car.

      I paused and looked back at her. “I’m going to take Leslie into the office and call a taxi for her.”

      The alcohol certainly didn’t impair Dr. Taylor’s reflexes any, because she was around the car and up in front of Leslie and me faster than I probably could have done it sober.

      “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked. “This is my child. I’ll take her anywhere I damned well please.”

      “Let’s not make a big deal out of it, okay? I’ll get her a taxi. You go meet her at the other end.”

      She glared, crocodile eyes widening. “Give her to me.” The words were said very individually, each emphasized carefully.

      “No.” I’d crossed the Rubicon and I think we both knew it. There was a very, very long exchange of glares between us. “Move aside, please,” I said.

      But Dr. Taylor gave no indication of backing down. Her eyes narrowed, taking away some of the frightening reptilian coldness but making her look a whole lot angrier.

      “You do this,” she said, “and I’ll see you destroyed.”

      Not much to say to that.

      “You can be assured that the first phone call I’ll make when I reach home will be to my lawyer.” Her voice was very low and quiet.

      I swallowed.

      “I don’t know who you think you are,” she said, “but I can tell you right now who you aren’t. And that’s a teacher in this school. Because you’re never going to teach in this town again. Believe me.”

      Not having any other way to defend myself, I simply stood silent and stared at her. It was a bluffer’s trick, something I’d learned from my elective mutes. She must have learned it somewhere too, because she stared steadily back, completely untroubled by my silence.

      Outstared, I finally had to look away. Dropping my gaze, I studied the sidewalk beneath my feet for a few moments and wondered what to do. I was weighing the possibility that she might try to stop me physically, if I tried to move. She was as tall a woman as I was, if not a little taller, and I didn’t want to chance that kind of thing. I raised my head and glanced around to see who else was nearby. Inside the school doorway, I could make out two of the secretaries standing there, watching us. I could just imagine what they were saying.

      Taking a deep breath, I turned slightly, took Leslie’s hand and, making a wide circle around Dr. Taylor, I walked toward the school building.

      Mercifully, Dr. Taylor did not try to stop me. Instead, she stormed back to her Mercedes, got in, slammed the door resoundingly, and roared off, leaving a frantic swirl of fallen leaves in her wake.

      My knees were like so much Jell-O. I wobbled into the office, and by the time I dialed the taxi company, the shaking had extended to my voice. What the dispatcher must have thought of my several attempts to speak correctly, I would hate to guess.

      Throughout all this, Leslie had remained curiously composed. When the taxi came, I put her in and paused to hug her. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Everything’s okay. Your daddy and Consuela will be there on the other end to meet you. Probably your mama too.” I hugged her again. Then I dug into my pocket and handed the fare to the driver.

      The rest of the day passed very unpleasantly indeed. Dr. Taylor overshadowed every thought I had. Her normal, everyday demeanor was so hostile that I hated to think what she’d be like genuinely angry, but I had no doubt she could make a formidable foe. Was she serious about the lawyer business? If so, could she actually do anything? Had I been wrong in any way? My stance seemed fairly clear-cut to me, but I had heard of stranger lawsuits than this.

      If СКАЧАТЬ