2. The Smug Mastodont

2

THE SMUG MASTODONT

LONG LIVE (TAYLOR’S VERSION), TAYLOR SWIFT

May 31st - Now

Cara

“I’m going to miss you too, sweetie girl,” I tell Azalea, the little girl I’ve worked with longer than any other student. “I’m sure you’ll have the best summer ever.”

Teaching Special Student Education, or SPED as we call it, doesn’t give me a traditional classroom with students. Every county and district do it differently; where I work, I have my own room, but my students are more long term instead of saying goodbyes after one school year. Azalea, for example, has been on my caseload since she was four, and now she’s about to start fourth grade. I would have had her for two more years, but moving to Baker Oaks means I won’t be coming back to my current school. It’s also too far for me to visit frequently, so this week has been bittersweet, to say the least.

It’s not like I’ll stop teaching in general, but my heart is drowning in sorrow from leaving all my small people behind. I know they’ll move on and they’ll have another teacher who will love, teach, and support them—but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m heartbroken. This is the first school I taught at after graduating college. The first group of students I’ve grown with. The littles have helped shape me into who I am today, regardless of how crazy they drive me sometimes.

Azalea gives me a huge hug before running across the cold SPED classroom to her mom who’s waiting for her by the door. Her mom waves at me before walking away, leaving me with Luke. Luke has been my bestie boy for the past year. He joined our school after getting kicked out of another elementary school due to fighting. He had no social-emotional skills and couldn’t identify his zones of regulation. He would go from zero to a hundred in a heartbeat without even being able to identify his trigger or how to regulate his body. We worked hard, and now everyone else sees the sweet boy I know he is. He carries his little ring of emotion cards to cue him into what some of the feelings are. Right now, he’s holding it in his hands with the worry card facing him.

I slide onto the ground next to him and ruffle his hair. He might be a big second grader now, but he will forever be my little Luke.

“Hey, bud, are you okay?” I ask, softening my tone so he can see that I’m here if he needs to talk. It’s so important for kids to know that we care about them and that we have big feelings, like they do, while also modeling for them how we can be strong. Show them with our actions what we convey with our words.

“Who’s going to believe in me, Ms. Thompson?” Be still my heart, this chicken nugget.

“Oh, pumpkin! Tons of people believe in you. Your mommy, daddy, everyone at our school. I will always believe in you even if I’m far away. But you know what, Lukey?”

“What?” he asks, looking up at me with glassy eyes. It’s taking everything in me not to tear up right along with him.

“Do you know the most important person who should believe in you, buddy?”

“Who?” he asks, his little lip trembling.

I hold his hands in mine, dropping the cards on the floor and touching his nose before saying, “You, sweetie. You have to believe in yourself. You have all of us in your corner. Always. But you must believe with all your heart you can do hard things.”

I offer him my pinkie and he wraps it with his. Tentatively at first but as soon as he hooks it with mine, it’s a confident squeeze. We both repeat at the same time the phrase we say every morning before starting school.

“I am strong. I am bright. I am brave and I can do hard things.”

He drops my finger and wraps his arms around me, hugging me tight and making me consider every choice I’ve made about not coming back next year. Maybe he does need me here. Who will take care of them when I’m gone?

I hear a throat clearing and looking up, I see Luke’s mom standing by the door, wearing a soft smile and warm eyes. I smile and wave at her and when she nods at me, I know she understands.

“Come on, sweets. It’s time to go home. I’ll give your mommy my phone number, okay? Maybe we can chat sometime,” I tell Luke, squeezing him tighter before I get up.

“Okay,” he whispers, standing up and grabbing his backpack. He runs toward his mom and hugs her tight.

The dim fairy lights cast a soft glow in the room, mingling with the lemon scent that usually brings comfort. But today, instead of feeling warm and reassuring, it feels like a bittersweet goodbye.

“I know, baby, I know,” his mom says before looking at me and smiling softly. “Thank you, Ms. Thompson, for everything you’ve done. Luke grew so much this school year. We’re happy that you’re following the path you need to take but we’re definitely sad to see you go. You’re a gem and any school would be lucky to have you.”

Well, shucks. This will bring the tears out for sure. I take a deep breath, bracing for the hurt. Just as I feel them about to fall, I catch a glimpse of someone standing behind her and have to blink twice to make sure I’m not imagining it. Luke’s mom looks over and smiles when she turns back to me, probably curious about who’s there. To my surprise, it’s none other than Manuel Zabana standing there, looking like a damn snack with his fancy suit and tie, and a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“I’ll let you go, Ms. Thompson. Have a great summer, and please send us your phone number through the parent app. We’d love to stay in touch,” she says.

“Bye, guys,” I add, still in shock at what I’m seeing. I’m torn between feeling annoyed and being utterly surprised, not quite sure which emotion should take the lead.

“Manny, what are you doing here?” I snap at him, trying my hardest not to look at the beautiful flowers in his hands. I don’t usually like flowers as gifts. I think that they look better planted or carefree in a field somewhere, and the prices in some arrangements could buy me things that will last longer. But these flowers., These right here are a mix of all my favorite flowers—gerberas, Calla lilies, and hydrangeas. All in beautiful bright colors form a bouquet that has my full attention.

“Congrats on finishing another school year, Ms. Thompson,” Manny says with a warm smile, handing me the bouquet of colorful flowers. He leans casually against the door frame, his presence filling the space with his relaxed confidence.

“Thanks?” I reply, my voice trailing off as I try to process the unexpected gesture.

“Don’t look so surprised, Carita,” he chuckles, clearly amused by my reaction.

“Manny, this is my place of work—” I start, but he cuts me off with a grin.

“Not anymore,” he interrupts, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Not after today.”

“If you would let me finish talking,” I snap. “If this wasn’t my place of work, I would have said a couple of grown-up words. But I guess what are you doing here will have to do.”

“I told you I’d see you in June, but then Allie informed me today was your last day, so I came a day early. I didn’t want you to think I was going to break my dare.”

What in the actual fuck? He can’t be for real. It was just a game. “What are you talking about?” I ask, pretending I don’t remember the dare he agreed to months ago. If it wasn’t for the perfect flowers in my arms, my body language would be very different from what it is now.

“Allie’s dare? I’m supposed to drive you back to Baker Oaks,” he quips and I’m sure my face looks as astonished as I feel right now. I’m going to kill her.

I turn around to grab my bag and the last box of supplies I need to pack. I wish I could carry everything, but the damn flowers—no, I didn’t mean to say “damn,” beautiful flowers, I’m sorry—just won’t fit. I’m on the verge of throwing a tantrum like one of my students when Manny steps in and takes the box and my bag from me.

“You can just hold the flowers, Cara,” he insists with a reassuring smile. “Come on, let’s go.”

“‘ Let’s’ is one too many people, Manny. I’m going. You can go back to corporate America where you usually live.” I try to take the box and bag from him, but I can’t. He holds both above him. I look up at him and his giant self, and I know he is too tall for me to try anything. Add the extra height of his arms, and it’s worse.

I stomp my foot and roll my eyes at him. “Agh, ‘kay. Let’s go.”

He follows behind me as I walk past some rooms and wave to the teachers who are finishing up their day. I go past Beth, our school’s mom. She’s really our school’s secretary but I don’t know how any of us would survive without her.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to do my end-of-the-year checklist and return my keys, okay?” I ask and she walks around her desk, wrapping me in a hug.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetie. I’m soaking up all the hugs I can get today,” she replies, her voice warm and affectionate. “Are you going to the end-of-the-year dinner tonight too?” She looks at me with those earnest eyes that make it impossible to refuse her.

I hadn’t planned on going because I’m running on empty and would prefer to indulge in s'mores pie while binge-watching One Tree Hill. But now, with this mastodon standing here looking insufferably smug, my plans might change.

“I’ll be there, Ms. Beth,” I reply, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I feel.

“Well, hello there,” she coos, turning her attention to Manny. Her gaze softens as she takes in his smile.

Manny places the box gently on the floor and extends his hand toward her with a confident smile. “Manny Zabana, nice to meet you.”

“I’m Bethany, but you can call me Beth.” She shakes his hand, but her eyes are on me, smiling mischievously.

Great. Just great .

Now everyone will be asking me about this guy.

“Ms. Beth, this is Manny, my best friend’s brother. He was just leaving,” I explain, pulling Manny by his arm and trying to walk out of this place.

“I’ll see you tonight!” I shout before stepping through the double doors and out into the hot day.