Yearning yearn

Chapter3

When Monday arrived, I quickly got ready before heading to school. The day already settling into its familiar rhythm — arriving at work early, teaching, and updating student records.

The day hadn’t even started properly, but it already carried a taste of monotony. It was a repeated cycle.

My life had been just ordinary — a mundane existence, not exactly boring but quietly uneventful.

I had just finished taking a class when Mr. Patrick came rushing toward me. He stood behind me, his face carrying signs of urgency.

“Please, I want you to help me take my class,” he said breathlessly. You could tell something important had come up.

“No problem,” I replied, and he quickly left.

I often took some of his classes, so I knew which one he wanted me to handle, even without him telling me.

Mr. Patrick wasn’t a hard man. He was kind and very older than me. He always found a way to disturb me even when I didn’t give him a smiling face. At some point, you would expect him to stop, but he never did. He said I reminded him of his daughter.

“Good afternoon, Miss Shelly.”

I turned and saw Zack, one of my students.

“Good day, Zack. Hope you’re done with the essay? That better be the reason you’re here,” I said to him in a slightly harsh tone.

“Yes, ma’am,” Zack replied quickly.

I grabbed the notebook from him, and away he went.

After that, I didn’t do much. I just sat there and scrolled online quietly, waiting for the day to pass. But eventually, it was time for Mr. Patrick’s period.

Fifty minutes later, I was done with Mr. Patrick’s class, quietly walking through the hallways to return to my desk. My face showed signs of tiredness. I picked up my phone and began scrolling through old photos.

Scrolling through, I paused at Kimmie’s picture. I already missed her, even though she had left just yesterday.

Her plan was to surprise her parents in Australia, but with the whole ex-fiancé issue, she needed comfort. Since her parents were away, she decided to come see me.

The little fun we had, reminded me of the years back — and now she was gone, life going back to how it was.

I remembered telling her about the incident at the club and how the man had mistaken me for the lady screaming in the bathroom — and she smiled. I’m still trying to figure out why.

Just as I was reminiscing about Kimmie, the telephone on my table rang.

“Brrrrring! Brrrrring!” I picked it up.

“Hello, Miss Shelly. Please come to my office.” It was Mr. Harold.

“Alright sir,” I replied. I dropped the phone, stood up, and went straight to his office.

I got there and knocked three times before he told me to come in. I slowly entered, closing the door.

“Good afternoon, sir,” I greeted.

He typed on the keyboard, head still bent, as he said, “Since you seem unbothered about the transfer we previously discussed, I have decided — but only after careful consideration — that you will continue your service at another school.”

I wasn’t suprised.

“But you can’t make a decision like that without me knowing,” I protested.

I wasn’t angry; it was more of an objection.

“Miss Shelly,” he said. He suddenly sat upright, elbows on the table, his hands steepled. He lifted his face and fixed his gaze on me.

“You are talented, diligent, and very capable. But you belong in an environment that can truly match your potential. You deserve greater opportunities, and I’m confident the new school will offer exactly that. It’s hard to see you go, but I assure you, I made the right decision.”

I listened quietly and accepted what he had said without further protest.

He went back to his typing and said,

“I have communicated with the receiving school and sent all the necessary information about you. I believe a week should be sufficient for you to prepare for the move. You should have gotten an email from them.”

Just as he spoke, my phone pinged.

“That should be them. Please make sure to check with them.”

I turned around, planning to leave the office, but just then he called, “Miss Shelly.”

I turned right back, and there he stood, his hand in the air. He wanted to give me a handshake.

I raised my hand and shook his.

“Thank you for your service, and best of luck where you’re going.”

I returned home. It was as if I had been fired — but I wasn’t. Just thinking about the stress and all. But I didn’t let it ruin my mood.

New State, New Beginnings

A week passed by, and the day came. It wasn’t easy getting to the school, but I eventually did. There were just a few requirements left before I was finally done with the usual school stuff.

I had to go to the principal’s office, but because of meetings, I had to wait. I didn’t want to stand, so I decided on exploring the school premises.

It was then I came to a small field with a narrow road running beside it. On the field was a little child, and farther away stood a man in a suit, busy on a phone call.

At that moment, the little girl began walking toward the road.

I called out to the man, “Hey! Hey!” he didn’t respond. Besides, I didn’t even know his name. I was still at the doorway when I saw a car approaching.

I quickly rushed forward, grabbed the girl, and tumbled to the side of the field with her in my arms. The car didn’t even try to stop.

By then, the man had finished his call.

He ran toward me with a panicked face and immediately snatched the child from my arms, holding her tightly against him. The little girl began crying.

“Are you okay?” he asked, distressed, searching for scratches on her.

I stood up, giving him a side-eye as he focused his attention on the little girl.

I gave a light cough, cutting him off from the girl. I immediately went on my knees, trying to console the little one. The man watched me as I did that.

I brought out candy from my purse and gave it to her while checking if she had sustained injuries. She stopped crying. The man was still standing there like a fool.

A simple thank you couldn’t come out of his mouth. I was already getting agitated.

Just as I stood up, a black car pulled up by the small road. It wasn’t your average black car — it looked pretty expensive too.

Two men in suits came out; one came toward me and quietly escorted the little girl to the vehicle. The other spoke to the man. They all wore suits, but you could tell the difference between them.

I turned, about to leave, when the man tapped my shoulder. He fished out a card from his trouser pocket and held it out between two fingers.

“Reach out to them. They’ll send you an amount,” he uttered.

I paused, my eyes moving from his head to his toes, then back up.

“Are you serious right now?” I burst out.

He raised an eyebrow, looking entirely unbothered. Irritation was written all over my face.

The anger in me grew as I turned on my heel, slowly walking away.

As I walked down the hallway, I realized the principal had returned. Pushing aside the memory of what I had just experienced, I quietly knocked on the office door.

A gentle female voice called from inside.

I stepped in.

“Good day ma’am,” I said

“You must be Miss Shelly Bekett,” she said with a soft smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied politely.

She seemed genuinely excited — her expression brightened as she rose from her chair.

“You must be here for the teaching post. Mr. Harold told me a lot about you, and I’m really satisfied. Everything has already been approved, so you don’t need to worry about anything. You just have to start tomorrow. You’ll be fine with that, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I responded quickly to match her rhythm. Not giving me time to think.

She came closer to me.

“Let me introduce you to the other teachers in the staff room. After you, dear.”

I got out of the office, and after she shut the door behind her, she escorted me to the staff room.

The staff room was farther away from her office. We came along a room filled with teachers. At the door entrance, the word “STAFF ROOM” was boldly written.

I already got a strong hit of the chemicals from the markers. We entered together, and everyone greeted politely, “Good day, ma’am.”

I stood close to her as she replied,

“Good day. I have here with me Miss Shelly, and she will be joining us, so please help her get used to the place.”

She turned to me. “Welcome,” she said, then excused herself.

As I stood there, looking all awkward, I scanned the room. Rows of desks—mostly stacked with mugs, books, or stationery—were already claimed.

I tried to figure out where to place myself, just as I looked uncertain.

“That one’s free,”

a voice said beside me.

I turned my head and saw a handsome man.

“The one at the corner,” he said.

I turned to the corner and saw the empty desk. I walked over. It was quite dusty but would be alright with a little cleaning.

“Thank you,” I said.

The man stood in front of the table.

“It’s alright. It’s always like that on first days. Anyway, the name’s Jacob. Nice to meet you,” he said quickly.

“I’m Shelly. Nice to meet you too,”

I replied, wiping the table with the wet wipes I had brought out of my bag.

I was about to sit down when he asked,

“Is that blood?”

I looked at him. “Where?” I asked.

“On your skirt,” he said.

I looked down and saw my bone-colored pleated skirt stained with blood. I sat down and lifted the hem slightly.

“You’re bleeding. Let me get the kit,” he rushed.

“No need, it’s just a little scratch,” I called out.

I picked a wet wipe and brushed it over the side of my thigh. It looked like I had gotten injured while helping that little girl.

“Is that okay for you?” Jacob asked, concern written on his face.

“Calm down, it’s just a scrape. Thanks for caring, though,” I said as I smiled.

Jacob breathed out.

Just as we spoke, murmurs spread among the teachers as they gossiped.

“Have you heard? Carson is back,” one of them said.

“Is that true?” another asked.

“It’s been so long since I saw him,” a teacher added, excitement and happiness in their voices as they spoke about this Carson.

I didn’t want to listen in, but I could hear them clearly. It was like he was some kind of star.

“Please, where is the bin?” I asked Jacob.

“Behind the door,” Jacob answered.

I walked over and threw away the wipes I used, then returned to my desk. I thought to myself, It’s better to return home than stay here doing nothing.Tomorrow is another day.

I stood up and fixed my shirt.

“Leaving already?” Jacob asked.

I nodded.

“Let me see you off,” he said as he stood up.

“Thank you,” I replied as we both left the room. We lingered in conversation, growing more familiar with each other.