the ten years Makayla had been teaching, she had never met a child she didn’t like—until now. Only a month into the school year and Terrance Blake had been sent to the principal’s office five times. Mr. Gibson gave his support, but Makayla had a feeling he blamed her for Terrance’s intolerable behavior. In the last month she’d used all of her “tricks” but there was no change in Terrance. Extra computer time, positive reinforcement and glow-in-the-dark stickers didn’t help, either. Terrance was as bad as ever. He swiped things off her desk when he thought no one was looking, bullied his peers and lied openly.
Makayla picked up Terrance’s file. It was heavier than the Bible. She had to do something fast. Mrs. Blake had threatened to file a grievance against her with the Philadelphia school board. Still, her co-workers had assured her she had nothing to worry about. One complaint from an angry parent wasn’t going to ruin her otherwise stellar performance record.
Unruffled by Mrs. Blake’s threats, she picked up the phone and hit redial. On the third ring, the answering machine came on. How can Mrs. Blake be unavailable when she just hung up on me?
When the automated voice prompted her to leave her name and number, Makayla said, “Hello, Mrs. Blake. It’s Ms. Stevens again. Somehow our call got disconnected. I am calling to remind you that parent-teacher interviews are tomorrow night. Your appointment is at 7:15 p.m. I look forward to seeing you then. Goodbye.”
After carefully replacing the receiver, she crossed off the last name on her class list. Now that all of the parents and guardians had been called and reminded about the interviews, she could call it a day.
Pushing herself up from her chair, she rubbed her hands over her chilled shoulders. A draft of cool air rushed into the room through the partially open window. Once the window was closed, Makayla surveyed her first-grade classroom. Vivid paint, colorful posters and children’s art decorated the walls. A thick piece of red carpet sat in front of Makayla’s desk, a row of computers lined the far side of the room and three lumpy beanbag chairs sat near the overcrowded bookshelf.
The distant sound of car horns suggested rush-hour traffic was in full swing. A quick glance at her watch confirmed that it was indeed five o’clock. If Makayla wanted to be on time for karate class, she had to leave now. Shrugging on her jacket, she swung her tote bag over her shoulder and hurried out of her classroom.
“I hate men,” Makayla announced, yanking off her headband and chucking it into her gym bag. “Especially the fine ones. They cause the most trouble.”
Her best friends groaned simultaneously. The three women were at the King Bonk Institute of Martial Arts in downtown Philadelphia. Their five-thirty class was over and they were in the changing room getting dressed.
“Here we go again,” Desiree sang. “What’s the problem now?”
Makayla untied her karate belt. “What do you mean, ‘here we go again’?”
“Every time you go on a date you whine. You break into this ‘I-hate-men’ routine at least once a month.”
“What happened this time?” Brandi asked, freeing her chocolate-brown locks from their elastic band.
“First, he was over twenty minutes late to pick me up. By the time we got downtown, found parking and reached our seats, we missed half the movie. Then, when he dropped me home after dinner, he had the nerve to ask for gas money. Said something about his check being short this month and he’d pay me back soon.”
Brandi laughed. “Sorry, girl, but that’s a trip.”
“What was wrong with Reggie?” Desiree applied blush to her cheeks. “He worked for the city, had his own place and, if I recall, he was kinda cute.”
“Loose Lips Reggie? No way. That man was way too affectionate for my liking.” After a year of man-less days and nights, Makayla thought she was ready to jump back into the dating pool. But like her decision to cut her hair and grow it natural back in university, she’d been wrong.
Brandi frowned. “Too affectionate? Most women beg for romance and all you do is complain.”
“Who said anything about romance? Reggie’s idea of romance is day-old flowers, a six-pack and Steven Seagal movies.” Makayla blew out the air in her cheeks. These days she had a better chance of being struck by lightning than finding a good man. She’d had adolescent dreams of the man she loved sweeping her off her feet. But, at thirty-three, she’d settle for him walking her through the front door. Forget romance, candlelit dinners and wild, passionate sex. All she wanted was a single, gainfully employed man who didn’t live at home with his momma. “I’m through with the male species. I’m going to take a much-needed break from the dating scene and just concentrate on me.”
Desiree shrugged. “Suit yourself. That leaves more men for me.”
Makayla rolled her eyes. Desiree Hill could have any man she wanted—celibate, engaged or married. Men paid special attention whenever she was around. Her short, flirty boy cut drew atention to her oval-shaped eyes, and her pecan complexion had a soft, natural glow. Makayla landed a position at Springs Park Elementary School fresh out of university, and later that year Desiree joined the staff. Her quirky sense of humor and their mutual love of Jackie Brown movies bonded them instantly.
Makayla eyed Desiree through the mirror. “Like you don’t have enough men beating down your condo door.”
“A single woman can never have too many options.” Wiggling her hands under Makayla’s nose, she said, “Do you see any rings on these fingers?”
“But you said you’re not ready to get married.”
“I’m not, but it would be nice if Elliot proposed.”
Desiree had been dating Elliot Parker for three years, and even after all of that time Makayla couldn’t figure out what the attraction was. The corporate pilot was ultraconservative, reticent and, quite frankly, boring. Last Saturday, at Desiree’s birthday party, he didn’t say more than five words the entire night. Makayla didn’t care much for the man, but as long as he treated her friend well she had no complaints.
“Twinkie, you’re too picky. Stop being so hard on these men.” Brandi put a hand on Makayla’s shoulder. “You don’t want to wake up one morning and realize all you have for company are stray cats, do you?”
“How many times do I have to tell you to quit calling me Twinkie?” Feigning anger, she spread her hands out at her sides. “I lost sixty pounds, remember?”
Brandi stuck out her tongue. “Show-off!”
The two women had been friends since high school, and aside from Makayla’s weight loss, little had changed between them. Every time Makayla thought about how they met, she cringed. It was her first day at Lincoln High and she couldn’t have asked for a better day. She had a light schedule, made a friend in biology class and her sandals were holding up just fine. Her mom had given her enough money to buy a back-to-school dress, but she’d decided not to press the issue by asking for new shoes, too.
Makayla was shuffling through the cafeteria holding a food tray when she felt her right heel give way. Within seconds, she was sprawled out on the slick tile floor. Cream-of-mushroom soup dribbled down her cheek, gravy-soaked French fries stuck to her sundress and her bare legs were smeared with vanilla pudding.
A riot broke out across the room. Kids chortled until tears coursed down their cheeks. Some
