Always Alone | ✓

Chapter Five

"HEY, MISS PETERSON, would you like to join me and a few teachers for lunch?" Mrs. Ruiz says after we've taken the kids to the cafeteria.

"Okay," I say.

I'm your classic introvert. I do poorly on big crowds and if you don't talk to me, I will never be the one to engage in conversation. I've spent the last two days having lunch in my classroom because the thought of meeting new people gives me anxiety.

I've always pictured the man I marry to be the complete opposite of me when it comes to socializing. That way whenever we are in a big crowd, he'll take the lead and do all the talking while I just contribute to the conversation with a nod and the occasional smile.

Mrs. Ruiz opens the door to a room not too far from the students' cafeteria. The quote by Benjamin Franklin "Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn," is written in bold calligraphy on the wall. It's the first thing you notice when you walk into the room, reminding every teacher who steps inside to engross our kids in learning.

The room is painted a light green with tones of beige as an accent color. In the middle of the room are two dining tables with enough seating for sixteen people.

"Wow," I choke out.

Mrs. Ruiz laughs at my inability to come up with words. "That was my first reaction, too. After a week, you'll get over it, trust me," she says, putting her utensils down on the table and walking over to microwave her food.

I sit on the chair next to where Mrs. Ruiz put her silverware and join three other teachers. One of the teachers dressed in a red dress and heels is grading papers. Why someone would teach elementary and wear heels to class every day will remain a mystery to me 'till I die.

I look down at my clothes thinking maybe I'm underdressed. I'm wearing a white blouse, pants, and flats. I don't see anything wrong with my clothing, teachers dress casual.

During our chat, Principal Garcia said that we represent the school and should dress accordingly. However, a teacher's clothing doesn't speak of what goes on inside the classroom. She said that as long as the kids are learning and improving their test scores, teachers could dress casual, just no ripped jeans or sandals and no see-through clothing.

"Hey, I haven't seen you here before. Are you new?" I turn to a man with an ivy-league haircut, wearing a baby blue button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves.

"Yes," I say, looking down and opening my leftover mac and cheese. I'm so nervous, I don't even bother with heating it.

One word responses are the best to cut off a conversation.

Seemingly, this man doesn't take the hint. "I'm Mr. James. Henry really, just don't call me that around the kids." He chuckles, showing his slightly crooked teeth. There's something about the way he smiles that gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Is he trying to be funny? I smile out of politeness and say, "I'm Genevieve," looking around for Mrs. Ruiz to save the day. I spot her over at the microwave talking to an older lady with graying hair.

The man looks like he's just had an epiphany. "Oh!" he snaps his fingers. "You're replacing Mrs. Greenhill."

Mrs. Greenhill was Mrs. Ruiz' cooperating teacher until she was diagnosed with stage four cancer and resigned a few months ago. The principal tried to split the classroom with another teacher but couldn't, leaving Mrs. Ruiz to teach all subject areas to thirty-six students for two months until I was hired.

"Yes," I say as I take a bite of food and I'm finally saved from this uncomfortable interrogation when Mrs. Ruiz takes over the conversation.

"I need her, Henry. Don't scare her off." she points a finger at him and takes a seat next to me.