Ever After Drake (13 page)

I pull up Facebook and
start uploading the picture. In my status I write:
I am looking for my birth father, please
share!

I gnaw on my lower lip, my finger
hovering above Post.

“
Are you scared?” Skyler
asks insightfully.

“
A little bit,” I admit.
“This is kind of a big deal.”

“
That’s sort of sad you
don’t know who your dad is,” he says.

“
That’s why I’m doing
this,” I say, clicking, and sending it out into the
world.

It’s pretty much impossible to not sit
glued to my computer all night. Skyler and I watch as my picture
gets ten shares before our pizza gets delivered. By the time we’re
done eating it there are twenty-six shares. When Dick comes to pick
him up, there are seventy-one shares.

Around eleven, I climb into bed with
the laptop propped on my knees. Its screen glows bright through the
dark. My eyes are tired and heavy. I’ve got the beginnings of a
headache, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away.

One hundred thirty-eight
shares.

It’s so many. But it doesn’t feel like
nearly enough.

At some point during the night I fall
asleep. When I wake, I have less than twenty minutes to get ready
and get to school.

But I check the photo just as class is
about to start.

Five hundred twelve shares. And so
many comments of support.

No one claiming to be my father, or to
even know him, but lots of people wishing me luck. So many people
that I don’t even know.

It’s easy to view the world as an evil
place when you watch the news. There’s shootings, and violence and
death and people just generally doing evil things. It’s easy to
forget that there are still good people out there.

I know hardly any of the people who
have shared my picture, but they’re helping me find my birth
father.

When school starts that day, we start
talking about Germany in freshman World History. In Historical Lit
we read a few of the Grimm fairy tales and I assign them to write a
two page paper on one of the characters, going over their strengths
and weaknesses.

The bell rings and students file
out.

I pull out my planning folder and
marvel at how I’ve already almost made it through my first two
months of teaching.

“
Miss Ray?” a small voice
asks.

I look up and find a young girl
standing a few feet from my desk. She’s the only freshman in the
class. This is generally only a junior’s class, since lower levels
of English are required before enrollment. Only very motivated
freshman and sophomores are allowed.

“
Hey, Hannah,” I say with
a smile as I set aside my binder. “Can I help you with
something?”

She chews on her lip for a moment and
I can see indecision on her face.

“
It’s okay,” I encourage
her. “What did you want to talk about?”

Finally, she sinks into a desk on the
front row, closest to me.

“
Is it true that you and
Mr. McCain broke up?” she asks.

Everything in me sags with her
question. It’s a constant struggle to keep myself upright, to keep
myself moving forward, to put on that smile and to act like a
normal human being. It’s been just over three weeks now since my
romantic life ended, but it’s only gotten fractionally easier to
deal with.

So when anyone even mentions his name,
it feels like a bag of bricks is laid over my shoulders.

“
Yeah,” I say after what
is probably too long of a delay to seem like I’m okay. “Yeah, we
did.”

She shakes her head again, her eyes
sad and serious behind her glasses. “Why?” she asks. “You two being
together was like, the most romantic thing I’d ever heard of. You
both teach history, he’s still all boyish faced, you’re the cutest
little woman who ever existed. And the way you two looked at each
other…” Her voice has turned wistful and dreamy.

I try to give her a little smile, but
it doesn’t quite work. “We didn’t quite get the fairy tale ending I
wanted,” I admit. “Sometimes real life gets in the way.”

“
What happened?” she asks.
From the tone of her voice I can tell she’s not trying to be
prying, she just wants to know what could tear apart something so
right.

“
It’s personal,” I say out
of respect for Drake’s privacy. “But it wasn’t anything he did
intentionally to hurt me. This isn’t a case of the guy being a
jerk. He did the right thing.”

Hannah shakes her head and her
expression is sad. “It’s too bad. You two were kind of my
inspiration.”

“
What do you mean?” I ask
her, tilting my head to the side a little.

She sighs and leans back in the desk,
folding her arms over her chest. “So there’s this boy,” she starts,
as I suspected she would. “He’s basically made to be my other half.
I’m a painter, he’s a genius with charcoals. We’re in advanced art
together. He makes me laugh and I make him laugh. We’re both
considered nerds and weirdo’s at this school.”

“
But he doesn’t see
you
that
way,” I
guess. Just talking about this makes my heart ache for her. I
remember so well what it was like to feel this way. Ricky James was
the love of my life sophomore year, but he was
so
out of my league, and never
talked to me outside of biology.

“
Exactly!” she says,
exasperated, throwing her arms up in the air dramatically. The
tardy bell rings and her eyes grow wide and panicked.

“
Don’t worry,” I say,
holding a hand up to her. “I’ll write you a slip.”

“
Thanks,” she says
appreciatively. “As I was saying, he doesn’t see me as anything
other than the girl from art class. And the drill team formal is on
Saturday, and I really want to go with him.”

A smile pulls on my face, the first
real one I think I’ve smiled in a while. Even though Hannah is a
freshman in high school and only fifteen years old, this is nice.
To feel like someone needs me for being a woman. “Sometimes men
just don’t get it. They’re full of hormones, but they don’t know
how to direct them. Is he with anyone else?”

Hannah shakes her head. “Thank the man
upstairs, no.”

“
I think you should just
be direct. Focus that scattered teenage boy-ness. Ask him
out.”

“
Just like that?” she
asks, her eyebrows drawn together like I’m talking
crazy.

“
Sweetie,” I say, folding
my arms on my desk and leaning forward. “If he can’t see a great
girl like you when you show him you’re there, then he doesn’t
deserve for you to think about him for one more second.”

“
So, make him see me, or
stop thinking about him?” she asks. She looks a bit scared, but I
can see enlightenment brightening in her eyes.

“
No sense hurting any
longer than you have to,” I say, trying to convince myself of my
words as well.

Hannah is quiet for a minute. She’s
struggling with logical wisdom and her heart. That’s never an easy
thing.

Finally, she nods and a forced smile
comes upon her face. “You’re right. I’m going to ask him. Art is
our last class of the day. I’ll talk to him after
school.”

“
Go get ‘em girl,” I
encourage as she stands. I write her up a tardy excuse slip and
hand it over. She starts for the door.

“
Thanks,” she says,
pausing with her hand on the knob. “I really appreciate you talking
to me about this. It’s just not easy to talk to your own mom about
stuff like this, you know?”

“
I do,” I say with a
nod.

“
Hang in there, Miss Ray,”
she adds. “You’ll find your ever after.”

Hannah opens the door and walks out
into the hall.

During lunch, I check the shares on my
picture. It’s up to one thousand twenty-two. Lots more comments
that take me most of the lunch break to scroll through. But no one
claiming to be my father.

After last period, I hurry and gather
my things and make a dash for the art room. Most everyone has
cleared out by now, but through the hazy glass window next to the
door, I see Hannah talking to a boy with dark shaggy hair, skater
shoes, black pants, and a vest covering some print
shirt.

Hannah talks quickly and excitedly,
using her hands a lot to suggest just how nervous she is. I can
imagine how scary this must be. Laying it all out on the
line.

I’m a hypocrite, telling her to put
herself out there and to give it a chance, when not a few days ago,
I told Armando that I’m done looking for love. And I meant
it.

But I’m glad I told her what I did
when the boy smiles brightly and I can tell his lips form the word
yes. Hannah’s smile ramps up to blinding and they both stand there
awkwardly for a minute while they talk, like they’re not sure what
to do with their bodies.

I turn, about to leave, satisfied that
I’ve done some good, when I nearly run into someone.

“
Mr. Scott,” I say,
stumbling back a step. I chuckle when he reaches out and grabs my
arms to keep me from falling over. He laughs awkwardly too and lets
go.

“
Sorry, I didn’t mean to
sneak up on you,” he says, placing his hands on his hips.
Everything about his body language suggests he’s feeling
uncomfortable right now. “I tried calling your name, but I guess
you didn’t hear me.”

“
Sorry,” I mimic him.
“Helping play matchmaker apparently dulls my other
senses.”

Duncan looks through the window when I
point at it. A smile curls on one side of his mouth and he gives a
little nod of his head. “Nice. For the dance this
weekend?”

“
Yep,” I confirm. I
incline my head toward the parking lot and he starts walking with
me.

“
That’s actually kind of
why I was looking for you,” he says, once again returning to being
awkward. “The dance committee that I’m helping with is scrambling
for chaperones.”

A rock instantly forms in my stomach
and my blood starts declining in temperature when I can see where
this is going. I know Duncan is single, but my eyes dart to the
ring finger of his left hand all the same. Yep, still
ring-less.

“
I was wondering if maybe
you’d help me out in keeping an eye on the kids? I could come pick
you up if you want?”

And there it is. It’s not exactly a
date. But he had to throw in the pick me up part.

We’ve stopped walking half way down
the hall and we look at each other for a moment that I’m not sure
how long it lasts for.

“
I…” I try to form
coherent thoughts. The thought of any man ever asking me out again
has never
once
crossed my mind since the moment I met Drake. This has pulled
the rug out from under my feet, swift and hard.

But I remember the advice I just gave
Hannah. About putting yourself out there. And here I am, in the
opposite position, with Duncan nervously asking me out.

“
I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ll
help with the dance. But I can’t… You know. I’m kind of wrecked. I
think for forever.”

I gave no consideration to where we
were when we stopped in the hall.

So my stomach drops out when the door
behind us opens and out walks Drake from his classroom.

The moment freezes and all I can see
is Drake’s face. His eyes grow wide, his mouth slightly open, that
expression of being in trouble and surprised on his face. The Drake
face that is so adorable and funny at the same time, but not in the
last bit funny in this moment.

His eyes dart from me, to Duncan, and
back to me.

And then time speeds up and that look
goes away. Drake stuffs one hand in his pocket, his other adjusting
his grip on his briefcase.

“
Mr. Scott, Miss Ray,” he
says, with a little nod of his head. He gives us a little lopsided
smile that has pain and sadness saturating every cell of his lips.
And then he walks away.

“
Like I said,” I breathe
as I watch him go. “For forever.”

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

I don’t have the money to buy a dress
for the dance Saturday. In the end, I go with a bridesmaid dress I
wore at a friend’s wedding two years ago. It’s light blue. It has a
sweetheart neckline that makes my boobs look bigger than they are.
A satin tie wraps around my waist and the skirt flows soft and long
to the floor. They had to hem five inches out of it so I didn’t
step on it. I put on a pair of white pumps and I’m almost normal
height.

This dance is nothing like the girl’s
choice dances at my high school. Those we dressed extremely casual,
if we even wore dresses. But this? This is as dressed up as any
prom. Gowns, tuxedos, the whole nine silky, glittery
yards.

But the rest of it is exactly what I
expect. Students grinding up on each other, loud music, bad
decorations. Refreshments that Principal Riker guards personally. I
keep checking the woman’s bathroom to be sure no one is doing
unspeakable things in it. Duncan checks the men’s.