Rise Up

Talie

The next day, Mr. Miranda was absent. I slunk into my seat, my hoodie up, and just put my head down in my arms. If there was a sub, I wasn't going to even pretend to put forth any effort. I'd tried going to bed a little early last night, but my body clock was off. I fell asleep around 11:15, I think.

"Alright, guys, I need to take attendance," the youngish substitute teacher said. He was ugly as a mug and looked like he probably had back hair. I dreaded when he approached my name."

"Natalie Rodriguez?" he pronounced it wrong. Of course.

I picked up my head. "It's Na-TAL-ie," I corrected him, and put my head back down.

"Sorry," he said, scribbling on his sheet. "Sit up, please, and put your hoodie down."

"Bite me," I whispered as I put my head back down. I was having a bad day. That morning, I really hadn't felt very good and I just wanted for someone to ask me if I was okay. I don't think Dad even came home last night. The only other adult in my life who seemed to give half a crap was Mr. Miranda, and he was out today. I still felt lousy and just wanted to go home and go to bed.

As the teacher began, he told me again to sit up and put my hoodie down. I ignored him, and then he came up and grabbed my hoodie, then tried to pull me up to seated. Not a good idea. Nobody touches me. I shot up to my feet and pushed him. Not even that hard.

"Back off!" I yelled. The rest of the class gasped, and the sub looked like he had no idea what to do. It was deathly silent throughout the room. We locked eyes, and he looked terrified. Finally, he found a word.

"Out! Now!" He pointed to the door. I angrily grabbed my backpack and stormed out. That was the last straw. I went directly out the front doors, hopped on the subway, and went home.

As I walked to my apartment building, I wondered which one Mr. Miranda lived in with his family. He had photos of his wife and two sons on his desk and often told funny stories about his oldest kid, Sebastian. I wondered if Mr. Miranda was in bed right now, sick.

When I reached my apartment, I went straight to my room and collapsed onto my bed. I didn't even bother taking off my shoes.

I awoke a couple hours later, feeling a bit better. I yawned and went to the kitchen to get some water. I opened the fridge to see what there might be for dinner. Nothing. I opened the drawer where we kept all the take-out menus in ordered Chinese.

I barely had any clean clothes to wear, so I loaded up some laundry and took it down to the basement. I was really surprised to see Mr. Miranda in there, doing his own laundry.

"Oh, hey Talie," he greeted me, looking up from his phone. I set my basket on top of one of the washers.

"Uhh...hey," I said. Seeing a teachers outside of school was so weird. "What are you doing here?"

"All our machines are broke in our building. They have the same owner, so he's letting us come here," he looked at my basket. "You do your own laundry?"

"Yep," I said, careful not to say too much. Adults didn't generally like it when kids were raising themselves. That's exactly what I was doing, though.

I started to load my darks into one machine and my whites in another.

"How did class go today?"

I bit my lip. I'm sure the sub would write down what had happened and I might be in trouble for leaving without permission. "Not so good."

"What happened?"

"I kind of snapped at the sub," I cleared my throat. "And I pushed him."

"You pushed him?" he asked, exasperated. "Talie, why?"

"Well, first he mispronounced my name," I put quarters into the machine. "Then he literally grabbed my hoodie off my head and pulled me up to sit."

"Had he asked you to sit up before that?"

I bit my lip again. "Twice."

"Talie, he shouldn't have done that, but you need to listen," he gently chided me. "That's what keeps getting you into trouble. Did you get detention?"

"I don't know," I said, loading in the detergent and softener.

"Why not?"

"Because I left?"

Mr. Miranda gave me a disappointed look. "Sweetheart, you can't do that."

Sweetheart? When was the last time someone had called me sweetheart, or used any sort of term of endearment? Probably years.

"I know," I admitted, slamming the door to the other washer. "I just had to get out of there. Fisher can suspend me if he wants."

"And what does your father think about this?" he asked.

Yes, what would my father think? I had no idea. I'd seen him for maybe a total of 45 minutes this week and he wasn't a great conversationalist.

"Beats me," I said honestly.

"Is he home?" Mr. Miranda asked. "I still want to talk to him."

"Um, no," I said. "He has a late meeting."

Mr. Miranda's dryer beeped and he started pulling out dry clothes.

"Well, please remind him to call me or email me. I want to sit down and talk with him," he said.

"Me too," I whispered.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I stuffed my hands in my hoodie. "Could you watch my stuff for a minute? I just got a text that my food is almost here."

"Sure," he said.

I disappeared and took the elevator up to the top floor. Five minutes later, my Chinese was delivered. I grabbed my backpack and earbuds, then headed back to the basement to the community laundromat. Mr. Miranda was finishing folding his clothes.

I opened up my carton, got my chopsticks, and began to dig in.

"That smells so good," he told me as he folded some tiny socks. Probably Francisco's.

"How are the boys?" I asked him.

"Sebastian's sick, which is why I stayed home today," he said, folding some Spider-Man undies. "I should be back tomorrow though. I'm trying to get Cisco to say Dada but he's not quite there yet."

I laughed a little bit as I ate.

"Hey, would you ever be interested in babysitting?" he asked me. "We'd pay you ten bucks an hour. The boys are really easy."

I'd never babysat before. Kids didn't seem to like me that much. "I haven't, but I could try," I told him. It would be nice not to be alone every night. I certainly didn't need the money, but it wouldn't hurt.

"Great," he said. "We've been searching for someone for when our parents aren't available."

He finished his folding and picked up the basket. "Well, I'm off. I'll see you in class tomorrow. Awake."

He gave me a look and I laughed. Mr. Miranda left and I was, once again, on my own.