Newbie by Jo Noelle

lesson-planning materials spread over my desk, the little table and a few student desks. Official disaster. “We could go to the faculty room.”
    Reaching for my hand, he pulls me to the rug in the middle of my room. “Let’s just picnic.” We eat right from the boxes using chopsticks.
    He also has fortune cookies, which we crack and read aloud. His fortune says, “Happiness may be beside you.” Okay—I know immediately I’m reading way too much into that as my face warms. My cookie says, “Your hard work will be rewarded with a new perspective.” I want his fortune.
    “I guess you’re going back to hard work now—the fortune cookie has spoken.” He throws the containers into the bag and stands to leave, reaching for my hand. We walk across the room, still holding hands. This time, I know he’s going to kiss my cheek, so if I just turn…no, he’ll kiss my lips when he feels the way I feel. I can wait. Without dropping my hand, he pulls me into a hug and kisses my cheek. Yup—called it. Even that little kiss makes my stomach tumble and my face blush. Or it could have been how strong his arms were around me. Maybe I can wait.
    A couple of hours later, I can finally leave. The lessons look good, and the one for my evaluation is tight. I’m starting to get the hang of how to use Beth’s calendars for lesson planning, but it still takes so much time. Note to self: Lavish Beth with gifts for sharing her calendar with me.

R ule for the week—do not answer the door at home at all. School fund-raiser starts today. I completely do not need wrapping paper.
    Upon entering the front doors early on Monday morning, some moms from the parent organization are erecting a giant thermometer for totaling the fundraiser profits. This afternoon, I’ll distribute the sales packets to all the kids in the class so they can pester their parents, aunts, grandparents, neighbors, and anyone else they can talk into buying some.
    Beth leans through my threshold. “Came by to wish you luck on your observation today. You’ll do great. When is it?”
    “You’re back! Your kids are going to be nuts.” I rush to the door and hug her. “My evaluation is right after recess.”
    After welcoming my students, I let them know that Mr. Chavez will be visiting our class today. “He’s going to love being in our class and seeing your great work. Just keep working while he’s here.” Hint, hint. Keep working. Keep quiet.
    The morning speeds by, and right before recess, Mindi passes out cupcakes while we all sing a birthday song to her. A few minutes after recess, Mr. Chavez enters our classroom and sits at my desk with a clipboard. A few kids wave at him, then we finish reading a poem, and students begin choosing independent activities to work on. I call a few students to come sit with me at a small table near my desk. “Mark, Jason, Kyra, Ellie, and Sol.”
    “Jason, sit beside me today and whisper read until I ask you to stop. Everyone else, please choose a book.” Jason begins reading, and I take some notes. Once or twice, I look around the room—all’s well. Mark is slouching in his chair on my other side, and I remind him to sit up as he reads.
    When Jason finishes, I invite the students to look at the new book for today. Mark is slouching again, and I motion for him to sit up. We’re about five minutes into the observation, and Mr. Chavez has had no expression on his face whatsoever. Is that good or bad? He’s writing furiously and looks toward the rest of the class as much as he watches my reading group.
    The students in my little group put their books on the table in front of them as they practice making new words with magnetic letters.
    Mark, who was slouching again, sits up, his eyes wide and terrified—and then he vomits. Not just a bit oozing down his shirt, but weapons-grade projectile vomit, covering the books and magnetic letters with slimy pink throw up. There are traces of cupcake on the table, on the floor, on