“But it’ll be cool to see everybody,” Tabitha argued.
“And we’ve already missed two days. I wouldn’t want
to get farther behind in my classes.”
“We won’t in Ms. Mac’s!” several voices caroled.
“Do you suppose they had a substitute teaching your
classes?” Kelli asked.
“Friday, sure, but there might not have been any school
today. Remember, it snowed heavily down there, too.”
“Yeah!” Dieter cheered. “We can go home and
build snowmen!”
“You are such a little kid,” Amy told him dismissively.
In the rearview mirror, Fiona saw him laugh, but she
thought Amy’s put-down had stung. She wasn’t the
only one to think so, because Willow smiled at him and
said, “I like to build snowmen, too.”
He grinned at her. “Hey, cool. Where do you live?”
Fiona tuned them out again. She felt amazingly ill-
prepared to teach classes tomorrow. It was going to
take some thought to remember where she’d left off last
week. She’d have to grocery shop before she went
home, or there’d be no breakfast tomorrow. And, oh
goody, laundry tonight, too, since she’d meant to do it
Saturday. As if she hadn’t done nine hundred loads of
laundry this weekend, trying to keep up with the towels
and wet clothes for ten people. Of course, her housework had been waiting for the weekend, too, but it could wait again until next Saturday.
Real life was such fun.
The kids got out their cell phones and called
parents and friends. Fiona waited until she stopped
for gas and for everyone to get a chance to use a rest
room and get drinks. Then she phoned Dave Schneider, estimating how long it would take them to arrive back at the school and promising to call when they
got closer.
They pulled into the parking lot by the gymnasium
at Willamette Prep just before dark. Cars clustered by
the building. Fiona was surprised to see how much snow
still lay on the ground, although the roads and parking
lots were now bare except for occasional thin sheets of
ice. Her neck and shoulders ached, and she was grateful
to pull into a slot, set the emergency brake and turn off
the engine.
The principal, middle-aged and balding, broke away
from the group of parents and came around to Fiona’s
side of the van as the kids flung open the side sliding
door and bounded out. He looked so relieved to see her,
she realized how much pressure he’d been under as the
responsible school official here.
As they talked, Fiona was vaguely aware of excited
voices and parents embracing their offspring. The only
ones whose parents hadn’t come were Troy and Erin,
who had both left their own cars in the lot. She’d noticed
them—with snow still piled atop roofs, hoods and
trunks—as she’d pulled in. Her own in the faculty
parking lot would look the same. Scraping the windshield was just what she felt like doing.
Fiona handed over the keys to the principal, who
nodded toward the group of students and parents. “Doesn’t
sound like any of you suffered too much at this lodge.”
“No, I think the kids actually had a really good time.
We were lucky,” she admitted. “If we hadn’t been able
to reach the lodge…” An involuntary shudder ran
through her.
“It was a bad decision on both our parts,” he said
frankly. “I’m as responsible as you are. I looked at a
map, too. It seemed logical.”
“What I didn’t see on the map is that the pass closes
for the winter.”
He grimaced. “I did notice. But it’s only November.
I never dreamed…”
“Apparently it often closes in late November.”
He shook his head. “Next time conditions look worrisome, I’ll authorize you to put up in a hotel instead of trying to make it home.”
She gave a weak laugh. “Thank you.”
“Do you need some time off? I can get a sub for
tomorrow.”
The idea was tempting, but she shook her head.
“We can’t expect the kids to show up tomorrow morning if I don’t.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded.
“Ms. MacPherson?” Dieter’s mom had come around