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Yeah, ’cause it worked so well for your parents. A nagging tingle stung the back of Georgie’s nose. “Being with you once, maybe twice a year?” She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be enough, Ollie. Not for me.”
Nodding, he glanced down with a frown and scuffed the tarmac with his shoe. “It’s not what I want either.” His throat bobbed as he met her gaze again. “So what does this mean?”
Georgie let out a staggered breath, sending hot tears down her cheeks. “I don’t know.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
GEORGIE
Three days later, Monday, March 22, 1993
Leafs record: 38 wins, 25 losses, 9 ties (in overtime)
The first day back from March Break couldn’t end quick enough.
With three classes down, only Georgie’s free fourth period stood between her and an evening curled up in pyjamas in front of the TV. But as much as she craved time to decompress at home, she wasn’t fooling herself. Most of the night would be spent missing Waffles and mulling over her heart-wrenching situation with Oliver. They hadn’t come to any sort of post-August arrangement while away, and she feared they never would.
The wheels on the audio-visual cart squealed as she pushed it into Eden’s classroom.
“All yours.” Georgie parked the TV tower near Eden’s desk. “Should warn you, the rewind button sticks.”
“I envy you, having a free period,” Eden mumbled as her Canadian history students nattered and hurled paper airplanes across the room. “Is it me or are the kids more feral this year?”
“Worst I’ve seen them,” said Georgie.
Eden whispered, “When I get home, I’m having a glass of wine and a bubble bath—in that order. How ’bout you?”
“Dropping off my London pictures, grabbing takeout, then watching the late news to catch up on trade deadline day.”
“Not seeing Oliver?” Face pinching, Eden followed the flight of another paper missile with her eyes.
“He’s having dinner with Will.” Georgie patted her friend’s arm. “Anyway, hang in there. If I don’t see you before you go, have a large glass for me!”
* * *
Fifteen minutes into planning a lesson on the Battle of Waterloo, a visitor came knocking.
“Georgina, got a moment?” A sunburnt Principal Laporte leaned on the doorjamb.
Walking down the hall, they made small talk about how they’d spent March Break. Laporte hogged the conversation, blathering on about baseball and Florida. Once in his office, he pointed out a new framed photo of himself smiling alongside Jays’ slugger Joe Carter at their spring training facility in Dunedin.
“Very cool,” said Georgie, impressed. “Now back to real life with a thud, huh?” She sipped her tea.
“Yeah, flew by far too fast.” Laporte gestured for her to sit down.
“Well, on the plus side, opening day for the Jays isn’t far off and the playoffs begin soon.” Taking a seat, Georgie smiled. “We’re so close to clinching our spot. I’m actually looking forward to spring for a change.”
“Same here. It’s been a long winter.” Laporte shuffled some typed correspondence. “So I wanted to touch base with you on several things.”
Leaving her mug on the edge of his desk, Georgie sat back. “Okay.”
“First of, I want to thank you. Your efforts this year have not gone unnoticed. The high exam scores, the inspired lessons—really impressive. I also wanted to let you know I received an amazing promotion reference from the museum’s chief curator of Egypt. She mentioned a presentation you were involved in, something I wasn’t familiar with, so I went to see it before March Break.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh?”
“I shadowed a class from Newmarket and was bowled over by what I saw and how the students reacted. They were enthralled and asked questions, not like a typical field trip.” He flashed a grin. “And to think one of our own was the brains behind it, I couldn’t be prouder.”
“Thank you.” She smiled to herself.
