Just the Nicest Couple(7)

“I’m sorry, Ryan,” I say, shaking my head. “I got distracted. What were you saying?”

“The fire drill,” he says. “I said it sounded like a circus in here.”

“I’m so sorry.” I apologize again. “The kids were so wound up. I didn’t have it in me to fight them, not when the period was so close to being done.”

“Hey,” he says, “you don’t have to be sorry. I was just checking that they didn’t have you tied up somewhere.” Ryan laughs. I force a smile, but I still feel embarrassed that he could hear the mayhem all the way next door, even though my door was closed. My student teacher must think I’m an idiot. I should have made more of an effort to quiet the kids, if not for me then to set a better example of classroom discipline. I glance down at my phone again, in case I somehow missed a notification. It’s not lost on Ryan. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Yes, fine. I just need to run and see Lily, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not. Not at all.”

Ryan steps aside so that I can leave, brushing past him on the way through the door. I don’t have a class fourth period. I tell my student teacher I’ll be right back, and then I head to Lily’s room, which is in the math hall. It’s still passing periods, and the hallways during passing periods are mobbed with kids. They’re elbow to elbow and practically impenetrable, even for a teacher. High schoolers are also adult-sized. Aside from the way I’m dressed, it’s sometimes hard to tell us apart. Even at five foot seven inches, I look just like any other student. They don’t make room for me to pass in the hall.

Once I get to Lily’s room, I peek in the open door. Unlike me, Lily has a fourth period class. There is about a minute left of passing periods and maybe only a third of the desks are filled. The kids are still out in the hall, chatting with friends. They like to cut it close.

Lily stands at her desk. She’s talking to Colin Miner, a student we share. Lily is teensy, and so he dwarfs her. She’s also incredibly beautiful, wearing these plaid leggings that only someone like her could pull off. She wears a mock neck sweater that’s loose without being sack-like. She has the figure for it. The sweater hangs down to her upper thigh, her long brunette hair lying in waves down her back. She wears almost no makeup. Lily doesn’t need makeup. I’ve overheard girls say things about how pretty Lily—Mrs. Scott—is and how nice. She’s a favorite among teenagers, which is a major triumph, since teenagers are notoriously hard to impress, especially as the math teacher. It’s no secret that almost no one likes math. Almost no one likes English either—teenagers like nothing but their phones and their friends, I’ve learned—but English at least tends to come easier than algebra for most students.

Lily smiles when she sees me hovering just inside the door, waiting for her to finish up with Colin. She tips her head and waves, and I see the concern in her eyes, the question. She’s wondering what I’m doing here. Our classrooms are in different halls, though they’re on the same floor. Still, it’s not that easy to get from one room to the other, not in the four minutes the kids are allotted for passing periods. It’s not that often that I stop by Lily’s room during the day.

“Nina. Hi,” she says, coming to me as Colin Miner returns to his seat.

“Hey.” Up close, Lily doesn’t look as perfect as she did from a distance. She looks beat, as if I’m one to talk. There are bags under her eyes and she wears only one earring, the same small silver hoop with a drop pearl that she wears every day. “Can I talk to you for a quick sec? In private?” I ask.

“Yeah, of course. Just give me a minute,” she says.

The bell rings and the last few kids run in and to their seats, practically diving into them. Lily gets the kids started, and then she and I step into the hall, where she pulls the door to, but not closed, so that it doesn’t lock on her and so that she can keep an eye on what’s happening inside the classroom. “What’s going on?” she asks.

“You’re missing an earring,” I tell her.

Her fingers go to her earlobes, touching them. “Oh,” Lily says, her expression changing. She looks sad, upset I think, that she lost the earring. “Thanks,” she says, frowning as she takes the other earring out, fastens the back and folds it into her hand. “Is everything okay?” she asks, crossing her arms against the mock neck sweater.

“No,” I say, “I don’t think so.” I don’t mean for them to, but my eyes fill with tears. I’m not one to cry. But I’m so tired and the lack of sleep as well as what’s happening with Jake is a lethal combination. Lily is sympathetic and crying is contagious; for a second, Lily looks like she could cry too.

“Nina,” she says. Lily unknots her arms and reaches for my hand, squeezing it. I squeeze back. “What is it?” she asks. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t hold back because it’s Lily. Lily and I have been friends for years and not just work friends, but real friends. We tell each other practically everything. Lily isn’t one to judge. It’s not like she and Christian have the perfect marriage, because no one does. Everyone fights sometimes. Every marriage goes through hard times.

“Jake and I got into a stupid argument the other night. Stupid but nasty. I said some things I shouldn’t have said. He did too, really hurtful things. It’s not like we haven’t fought before. But this was different, worse.”