Chapter 8

After the meeting, Diana sat cross-legged on the floor of her classroom, classic novels fanned out in a circle around her. She ran her fingers over a worn collection of poems by Robert Frost, trying to decide which one to read on the first day of class.

“Hi there.”

A voice at the doorway startled her.

A man in tight shorts and a whistle around his neck leaned casually against the doorjamb. Everything about him screamed ‘gym teacher’.

“I’m Irv,” he said. “Didn’t get a chance to introduce myself this morning.”

“Nice to meet you.” Diana smiled politely but kept her hands on the pile of books, hoping he’d take the hint that she was busy and not in the mood to chat.

Irv sauntered into the room and propped his foot on the nearest chair. “Livingston said you’re from Denver. Do you live near City Park? You know the one with the old pavilion?”

Diana didn’t look up. “No, I’m actually from the suburbs. But it’s easier to say Denver—everyone knows where that is.”

Irv bent down, resting his hands on his knees. “I’ve got a picture of myself at that pavilion on my desk in the gym. You should come see it sometime. Afterward, maybe we grab something to eat?”

Diana looked down at her hands. “I ... um...”

Amelia’s loud, exaggerated cough as she entered the room saved her from answering.

“Leave her alone, Irv,” she said. “She just got into town.”

Irv shot Amelia a look that could curdle milk, and then turned back to Diana with a dazzling smile. “If you change your mind about dinner—or want to see that picture—you know where to find me. I’ll be testing the weight room for the next hour or so.”

As soon as he disappeared down the hall, Amelia doubled over laughing.

“Promise me you won’t fall for Irv the Pig. Anyone but him, okay?”

Diana fought back a grin as she started loading books into her canvas bags. “Is he always like that?”

“Oh, sometimes he’s worse.”

They both laughed hard.

“I’ll keep my radar on,” Diana said, winking.

“Good. There are plenty of cute, single guys in town. I wouldn’t want you judging all of Middletown’s bachelors based on Irv.”

“As far as I’m concerned, they can all be like him.” Diana hoisted the overstuffed bags onto her shoulder. The strap immediately bit into her skin.

“Too many books,” she thought. But she couldn’t part with a single one—every title felt essential for her lesson planning.

“I promise they’re not all Irvs.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Diana crossed to the windows she’d opened earlier to let in the late-summer breeze. One by one, she shut and locked them. “Believe me, dating is not even on my list.”

Amelia’s voice softened. “Someone back home?”

That familiar ache twisted in Diana’s chest. “No.”

“Well, if you ever reconsider, I’ll be your wingman. Wingwoman? You get the idea.”

Diana offered a faint smile. “How about you tell me the real rules of working here? You know—the ones they don’t print in the handbook.”

“Deal.” Amelia popped a stick of gum into her mouth. “Parents here work crazy hours—most of them run shops or tourist spots. They’re out the door before five and don’t get back until after dark. They rely on us to keep their kids busy. After-school activities are huge.”

Diana nodded, picturing Steve—sweaty from basketball, confident, relaxed. The image flashed in her mind before she could block it.

“What club are you in charge of?” she asked.

“Moi?” Amelia placed a dramatic hand over her heart. “Show choir.” She sang the words, laughing.

Diana laughed with her. “Can’t help you there. I’ve heard dogs howl better than I sing.”

“Well, think of something. They’ll want everyone involved.”

“I played volleyball in college. I could probably coach.”

Amelia winced. “Yeah ... about that. Georgina is the head volleyball coach. And something tells me you don’t want to be her assistant.”

Diana shrugged. “I don’t even know her. For all I know, she’s nice. Maybe we’ll be friends.”

Amelia snorted. “Keep dreaming. See you tomorrow!” She gave a playful wave and skipped off toward the bike rack, dumping her stuff into the basket on her handlebars.

Diana gathered her binder in one hand and the heavy canvas bag in the other. The walk home would definitely be a workout—thankfully, she’d worn sensible shoes.

If she finished planning early, maybe she’d reward herself with a walk down to the lake. She could already imagine the breeze on her skin, the hush of the water lapping at the shore.

Maybe, just maybe, Middletown won’t be so bad after all.