Leap of Faith

Chapter 1: AnikaLooking up from the ground, it hadn’t seemed that high but now, standing on the edge, the drop is positively dizzying. The topmost tree branches are several feet below me, the rich patchwork of leaves swaying restlessly in a breeze that, alarmingly, is growing stronger. “It’s a bit gusty but you’ll be fine once you get going,” says my instructor, correctly reading my hesitation. “All set?” I nod as confidently as I can and lean back, grasping the rope tightly. Looking straight ahead—not down—I ease the thin line through the cleat and drop an inch, gasping as my feet slip on mossy wet rock. “You okay?” Heart hammering, I muster a smile. “I’m fine.” “Good. Try that again and let the rope take your entire weight this time. It’s perfectly safe, remember?” Yes, I remember and I understand that the ropes are rigged so they can’t slip, but my terrified brain isn’t listening to reason. You’re going to die screams in my head. In my peripheral vision, I see Anika wave from below. I’d love to wave back but my hands are welded to the rope. Oh, Anika…How did she talk me into this? I’m an “indoor” girl who’s scared of heights. Abseiling off a viaduct isn’t something I should be doing. Of course, it’s not too late to change my mind, I’m not committed yet. Should I leave this particular adventure for another day? I make the mistake of looking down and my head spins. “Come on, Lauren, you can do it.” Anika’s voice cuts through my fear. I draw breath, hold it…exhale slowly. “If I give up now, I’ll never do it.” “What’s that?” asks the instructor. “Nothing. Talking to myself.” “Right. When you’re ready.” Okay, I’ve got this. Quivering, I cautiously slide the rope through the cleat. My pulse races as I drop. * * * * Anika intimidated me at first. She was the real deal: a teacher highly regarded by staff, pupils, and parents. On Saint Joseph’s website, students described her as “an excellent teacher who went the extra mile” and I believed them. Everyone spoke well of her. At thirty-two—six years my junior—she was Head of English and running a department whose exam results far exceeded expectations for a school like Saint Joseph’s. Most impressive. Both nervous and excited to meet her, I was shown into her office at exactly three o’clock. First impressions were good. She greeted me with the warmest smile that dimpled her cheeks and creased the corners of her dark brown eyes. With radiant caramel skin and wavy raven locks tied back in a loose pony tail, she looked younger than thirty-two and undeniably attractive. Stomach churning like a washing machine on spin cycle, I reached across the desk to shake her hand. “Do take a seat, Miss Willis…Lauren? Tell me why you want this job.” Straight to it, no small talk. I shifted awkwardly, unnerved by Anika’s confidence: her unwavering smile, the bold floral scarf draped around her neck, and smart pin-striped navy jacket. She epitomized authority. “Miss Willis?” She flipped back her ponytail and I thought I smelled lavender. Sitting up straight, I spewed out my well-rehearsed response, practiced over and over in front of a mirror. I talked about wanting a new challenge and needing a change from Lindhurst High. “A large inner-city school is exactly what I’m looking for,” I said. Lies, all of it. Lindhurst was a small school in a wealthy area with students who wanted to learn. It presented challenges of an academic kind but little else. Why would I willingly leave that? “Very good. I can see you’re committed.” “I am.” Lies. Committed to running from my old job, nothing more. I didn’t want to work at Saint Joseph’s. But I needed to—had to. “And you’ve mentored challenging pupils?” I nodded. “Oh, yes.” True, I had overseen mentoring sessions but to call any child at Lindhurst challenging stretched the truth. I was sure any “issues” I’d handled would pale into insignificance when faced with the problems I’d likely encounter at this school. “Your results are good. The kids like you, too.” Anika smiled. “I checked.” Really? My cheeks grew hot. I hadn’t expected her to ask my students for a reference. That wasn’t standard practice. “I talked to some of your year thirteens. They think the world of you.” “Good to know.” Stomach tightening, I waited for her to ask the next logical question: why was I leaving before my students’ exams? I didn’t want to answer that. Couldn’t answer that. Anika’s gaze wandered over my face and her eyebrows twitched. She inhaled as if preparing to speak, then looked away. She typed something on her laptop then clasped her hands together. “I’d like to offer you the post. Will you accept?” I stared, mouth agape until I snapped it shut. “Of course, if you have questions—” “I-I don’t.” “Good.” Anika tucked a strand of hair behind an ear; tiny diamond earrings glinted. “Then you’re happy to accept?” I should have shaken my head, apologized, and turned her down. I should have left the job open to someone who wanted it for the right reasons. But the post was temporary, only one term, so guilt was easily pushed aside. Who cared if I wasn’t a great mentor? I wouldn’t be there long enough for it to matter and there was nothing wrong with my teaching skills. Smiling, I shook her hand. “I’d be delighted.” “Great. I’m so pleased.” She held my gaze. “You’ll find it different here, but change is good, right?” I tensed. Something about the way she said change is good made my skin crawl. Did she know why I was leaving Lindhurst? Had my students told her? Had she talked to the head teacher, or contacted my colleagues? Hoping my smile hid the panic inside, I stood, hand outstretched. I hadn’t noticed Anika’s chair until she leaned forward to shake my hand again. I gawked. “Yeah, most people react like that first time they see this,” she said, slapping the wheelchair’s metal wheel rims. “Oh, goodness, I didn’t mean to be rude. I didn’t realize…” Anika laughed. “I don’t advertise it.” She pushed the chair backward and wheeled around her desk to show me out. “You must have thought me ill-mannered when I didn’t stand to greet you. Kidding,” she added when I squirmed. “I won’t see you all the way out, if that’s okay?” She pushed a green button beside the door then prodded it again. “Ah, there we go. These automatic doors have a nasty habit of ignoring me but they’re behaving today.” Thanking her again, I backed away. As the door closed behind me, a piercing bell jangled already shaken nerves. All around me doors banged and scruffy youths swarmed from classrooms into the corridor, their black and red uniforms giving them the appearance of overgrown ladybirds on the hunt for prey. My back against the wall, I waited until they’d dispersed before heading to reception to sign out. Outside, I surveyed the school. I watched boisterous teenagers barge each other as they shambled toward waiting cars, buses, and bicycles. I listened to their loud, expletive-filled banter. Different. Very different. “Yes,” I said, fist-pumping the air. I was finally free.