Chapter 10

Haley’s turn:

Add another happy student to our mix. Deena’s friend Emily, like I said, was also no dummy. She and Deena both took the tests as part of a program by some university to spot gifted students.

“How’d Emily do?” I asked Deena.

“Twenty-seven,” Deena replied. “Her mom ‘n’ dad are gonna be proud.”

“So will yours, you know...”

“Dad, for sure,” she said. “Mom will be excited because I’m excited, but I don’t think she sees all this school stuff as that important like Dad does.”

I thought about that. My Bill’s up into his game. I’ve heard him talking on the phone when he gets calls at home about one issue or another. I love listening to him discuss technical issues with others. He’s confident and he’s not one of those imperious-sounding, self-important types. When he’s working with others, he’s friendly, patient and helpful.

Some of my teachers, the good ones, are like that most of the time, but a classroom full of my contemporaries is enough to scratch through that layer sometimes. Still, seeing and hearing Bill like that, first, it’s one reason I’m attracted to him, and second, it’s something I want people to say about me.

“I see that,” Deena said, shaking me off the tracks of my train of thought.

“See what?”

“The gears turning. You’re thinking.”

“Guilty,” I said.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“Your dad. My husband. How I got him to sort of help me with school stuff...”

Deena does these thoughtful moments. “That’s why you two’ll last forever. It’s deeper than just some sex fling.”

“Took us a long time to get here,” I said.

We got home and the laptops came out. I had an essay to write for my AP English class. Deena denies the existence of homework, so she’s surfing.

“What’re you looking for?” I asked.

“Just started at the university’s home page and seeing where I can get,” she said.

Our local university offered a pretty full slate of programs. No, the name wouldn’t carry the weight of Ivy League or even second or third tier universities but Bill’s got a degree from here and a BSEE or whatever from the place has put a lot of food on the tables for a lot of people.

They do quite a few community programs, too, leisure learning, day camps and summer programs and such. I just haven’t seen anything that grabbed me, though. Maybe it’s because I was being too busy being grabbed by Bill. Of course, I grab right back, don’t I?

I tapped away at the keyboard until I heard Bill’s car in the driveway, jumped up and met him at the door. I like kissing him after he’s been at work for a day.

“Are we going out like this?” he asked

“Unless you want a coat and tie. Deena ‘n’ I could wear ballgowns.”

“Nuh-uh,” Deena laughed. “I wanna wear a gym suit.”

The concern was that tonight was the ‘open house’ at the middle school. Deena’s in middle school and she expects to be there with her dad and her step-mom.

Bill had already discussed who’d attend on Deena’s behalf with Deena’s mom.

“She’s not going,” Bill told us. “She says that since I’m going with you, that should be enough.”

“You told her I was going, right?” I asked.

“Yes, I did. After all, it’s your old school, too.”

“And...” I prodded.

“I don’t think she thinks that showing up with me and you is something she wants to do.”

Privately, Bill and I had talked. “Sad,” I said. “Her daughter...” Inwardly I was thankful. I didn’t want a confrontation. We had none up to this point, Deena’s fitting well in this, her new home, and I’d like to keep things going along.

“I told ‘er we could switch off on family events, but...”

“Let’s just see what shakes out. Gonna bother Deena a little, maybe.”

So today the three of us freshen up a bit and head out for a dinner before the event. Deena and I had already decided on a favorite Mexican restaurant. Bill didn’t kick over it. He likes the place, too.

After the meal we headed to the middle school. Bill’s nervous. I’m a little nervous, too. The news about Deena having her teenaged best friend married to her dad is old now, but that just means that it’s no longer the hot topic of discussion. A few of our contemporaries, both hers and mine, have seen us out and about. Unlike a lot of teens, Deena didn’t particularly mind being seen in public with a parent.

That’s one thing. The other is that she and I have been seen every day when I drop her off and pick her up at school, and occasionally we do trips to the mall or we do grocery shopping, just her and me, and we bump into classmates. Or classmates and parents.

Tonight, though, is a public appearance that is sure to get us exposure to students, parents and faculty. We’re expecting everybody to be civilized, but I’ve been wrong before. Some kids can be just plain mean and petty.

I’ve gotten over some pretty snotty, nasty remarks because I consider myself to be above that sort of thing now. I’m thinking about Deena and my husband.

When we got to the school, the parking lot was almost full. We grabbed a spot. It was far from the front of the school, but none of us gets scared by a little walking.

Of course, that puts the three of us walking through a crowded parking area and a crowd at the entrance to the school and I’m holding one of Bill’s hands while Deena has the other. That’s kind of strange, really. No, not ME holding Bill’s hand, but Deena holding her dad’s hand. Just isn’t cool, you know. Parents are the peak of uncool and no middle schooler would EVER deign a public expression of affection for a parent.

We’re watching the crowd and it’s almost like there’s a legal minimum distance that must be maintained. Oh, well, there ARE a few other cases where that rule is violated, but we’re exceptions, you know.

Plus I have that little wedding band. And I know a lot of kids know.

Deena’s into this. She sees one girl looking at us, just short of staring, really. Deena waves. We’re walking towards the path into the school auditorium as are they, so our paths merge.

“Hi, Kaylee,” Deena said. “This is my Dad and my STEPMOM!”

I didn’t know she’d pull that. I thought that we’d let people draw their own conclusions. Not with Deena around. It’s out on the table now. Bill smiled. Let’s see how it plays out.

The man stepped toward Bill, extended his hand. “I’m Rick Zimmer. This is my wife Nicole. And you’ve been introduced to Kaylee.”

“Happy to meet you,” Bill said, shaking Mister Rick’s hand, then Mizz Nicole’s.

“Stepmom?” Mizz Nicole said to nobody in particular.

“Yes, ma’am,” I owned up. “Married Deena’s dad. The title goes with it. Also big sister, study buddy, friend to Deena.”

“Oh,” she said. Her eyes flicked toward Kaylee. “You said...”

“I know, Mom,” Kaylee said. “I told you...”

“Problem?” Bill asked.

“Nooo ... noooo...” Mizz Nicole said. “Just because somebody TELLS you something doesn’t mean that it isn’t surprising in real life.”

“Just looks different,” Mister Rick said.

“I can imagine,” Bill answered.

“Kaylee says Deena’s a straight A student...” Mister Rick said.

“We’re proud of ‘er,” Bill said. I caught the ‘we’. “So’s Haley.”

“Haley’s ... college?”

“No sir. High school. Two years ahead of Kaylee and Deena. But we’re looking at early college,” I inserted.

“We are,” Bill said. “Haley’s ACT is in the 98th percentile. Deena’s in the 88th, but she’s two years behind in school.”

“Deena took the ACT?” Rick blurted.

“Oh, hon,” Mizz Nicole said, touching his arm. “You remember – so did Kaylee. That gifted student program.”

“Oh, yeah.”

We continued walking, now a group, towards the doors.

We met three other friends of Deena, one with her mom, two with both parents. I’m seeing a pattern here. The ones who show up for this are, as a general rule, among the better students. I surmise that if a parent cares enough to show up for a child’s after-school functions, he’s likely to be engaged further in the child’s education.

I’ve discussed some of this with Bill before, after a letter was sent home with each student ahead of a tax election. ‘The school needs more money, ‘ the letter said, ‘for better facilities and more teachers.’

“The school doesn’t need better facilities, baby,” he’d said. “It needs better students.”

We talked about what he meant. I KNOW. If I hadn’t had a certain bit of incentive, at first just me wanting to impress my friend, when Bill and I were just friends, then I could’ve slipped into the middle of the pack as a student.

I knew kids who were whizzes at video games and who knew every fact imaginable about one media star or another or the best place to score a little bit of recreational chemistry. I wasn’t one, but I knew some. And they weren’t the ones whose parents were joining them for the open house or anything else school-related.

We got inside the auditorium, found seats, Deena locating Emily and HER parents, then sitting with them. We sat through a short speech by the principal and a school board member, listened to the school band and the school chorus, then they cut us loose to go visit classrooms.

This is where it got a little bit surreal. You have to realize that two years ago I was in this school and these were MY classrooms and MY teachers and if you’re a top-level student, teachers tend to remember you.

Of course, being in the company of ANOTHER straight A student just adds to the effect.

Mizz Claussen – English teacher. Mister Chessman – math. Mizz Bateman – science. Mizz Solomon – history. They all remembered me and they all doted over Deena.

“She’s going places, Mister Simon,” Mizz Bateman said. “Of course, Haley will be a couple of years ahead of her.”

“I’m proud of both of them,” Bill said. “Very proud.”

It’s nice to be remembered by the principal, too.

“Hello, Haley,” Mizz Anderson said. “I’ve heard that you’re doing well in high school.”

“Yes ma’am,” I said. “This is my husband, Bill Simon. And you already know Deena.”

“I do know Deena. I haven’t met Bill yet.”